Modern life for those of us in the West is lived at breathtaking speed, a speed which would have made little sense in previous epochs, and which still makes little sense to many other cultures around the world. Time is money, and as such Western society seeks to eradicate those portions of time which are not spent productively. Our society is built upon what Charles Taylor has called a principle of ’simultaneity’; society runs like a vast, time-tabled machine of extreme temporal and spatial co-ordination, where many different things (e.g. the turning on of streets lights, opening of shops, collection and delivery of post etc.), must happen simultaneously in many different places for society to function. The speed at which all this takes place has been and will continue to accelerate until we can squeeze the very most out of our 24 hour days. As a result of this, our lives are also lived amidst tremendous noise. As the speed of life increases – as more and more things happen, simultaneously, at faster and faster rates, in more and more places – the background noise which accompanies our lives rises to a deafening clamour. It is hard for us to conceive of life separate from the incessant speed and unyielding noise of modern life.
Ivan Illich, the Catholic social theorist and theologian, was a fierce critic of developments such as these. His work suggests that they are symptoms of the way in which we have become subject to the very tools, processes and institutions which were intended to serve us. For example,
“It has taken a century to pass from an era served by motorised vehicles to the era in which society has been reduced to virtual enslavement to the car.“
[Tools for Conviviality, 1973, p.7]
Our tools and institutions have caused us to become domesticated. From school onwards, our society breeds individuals intended to fit like a cog into the clamourous mega-machine of modern society. And for most of us, we cannot even envision anything different. For Illich, we have been dehumanised, and the only way to rediscover what has been lost is through a process of selective asceticism and renunciation. Asceticism is something of a dirty word these days, but Illich did not mean it in the sense of the needless renunciation of good things (such as sex, certain foods and drinks etc.), of which Nietzsche (and Paul) were critical. Rather, he advocates an asceticism which does precisely the opposite, and enables us to experience and appreciate the good things more fully:
“We have to engage in the asceticism which makes it possible to savour now-ness and here-ness – here is a place, here is that which is between us, as the Kingdom is – in order to be able to save what remains in us of a sense of meaning, of metaphor, of flesh, of touch, of gaze.“
[1986 interview - to get the full weight listen HERE]
Our modern way of living has caged us in a world of breathtaking speed and deafening noise. For Illich, in order to live with hope, meaning and depth in our age, we need to make certain renunciations. Renunciations which enable us to withdraw from the speed and noise and clamour of our modern lives to a place of solitude and quietness, within which the voice of God can be heard (and the voices of our neighbours and friends), and within which the beauty and goodness of life can be properly savoured and reflected upon – and lived.
Ivan Illich was a remarkable man who, though a high-profile academic, sought a simpler existence. He was a traveller who, in an era of jet-age transportation, preferred the measured speed and humbler energy efficiency of the bicycle. He never wore a watch, believing it needlessly forced an artificial structure on life. And towards the end of his life, he sought more traditional treatments for a serious facial tumour, so as not to become a cog in the medical machine. These kinds of renunciation may not be for everyone, but for those of us who sense that the modern ‘rat-race’ drains and degrades life, Illich offers a different way. I get the sense that there is a profound wisdom to Illich’s asceticism, that deliberate and occasional acts of renunciation can give us the space to rediscover and reflect on the ordinary goodness and beauty of life.
Amidst the speed and the noise of modern life, in order to have hope, perhaps what we need is stillness, simplicity and silence.
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[Before reading Illich, I seem to have been echoing these sentiments in this post on the value of Evensong.]
Very good, Simon. I imagine that many of us would immediately resonate with what you’ve written. Nevertheless, I wonder why most of us make no move toward a simpler existence. Perhaps we are so embedded in the cultural pace (or rather it is embedded in us) that we have difficulty imagining anything different.
If I may ask, are there any particular applications of this concept that you are considering? What so you think might be some of the most common products of noise for our generation?
Personally, and ironically given I’m writing this on a blog, I’m trying to spend less time on the internet (especially Facebook). Last year Katie and I stayed with her Aunt and Uncle just outside Grand Rapids, and they only had very slow dial-up internet. In some ways that was a pain, but in another sense it was great. When we were there, I could feel myself physically relaxing, just because I was more isolated and disconnected from things. It gave me more space to simply ‘be’, whereas at home I’m usually on the internet during my spare time, doing something. So I’m trying to recreate that space a bit more in the everyday.
This other is weird, but I’m also trying to use more ‘natural’ things – like natural foods (fruit etc.) rather than processed stuff; or using less artificial light and using more candles instead; or even drinking something like Scotch, which smells and tastes like the Scottish countryside and has sat in a barrel in the Scottish countryside for 10-12 years, or herbal teas, rather than Coca Cola or something like that.
Finally, re. noise, I’m listening to more classical music. Most of the rock/pop stuff I listen to is pretty short (like five minutes per song), the hooks are really easy to pick up, and they have pretty driving beats. Obviously classical isn’t like that – it’s more considered, complex, less obvious and each piece is usually longer and slower. So when I put that on, I find I have to listen harder and more carefully to be able to appreciate it, which naturally slows me down.
Those are all without having put much thought in. But I agree with you that it is easy to agree with these sentiments, and not really do anything practical. Any ideas yourself?
I agree that the internet is a key area. Like Illich refers to cards, the internet can easily be a slave-master rather than a useful tool to me. I think I do need to address that.
I also very much enjoy being outdoors, but often am so busy that I do not spend any significant amount of time outside. That is something I’d like to correct.
For me, doing more focused things with my family I think is a big one. It is easy to spend time together without really spending time together.
It is great that you and a few others are writing about and reviewing Ivan Illich’s work…I think he is one of our more important thinkers…and consider myself to have been very fortunate to have met him…
Ooh, when did you meet him? How was he? I’ve heard some interviews with him – he sounds like a fascinating guy to spend time with.
I met Ivan in 2001 in Berkeley at the house of an old friend of his. This friend was a mentor to a small group of men, we met each week, cooked dinner, and then discussed the book we had been asigned to read. There were about 5 of us in this group.
We made Mexican food for Ivan – sorta of a tip of the hat to his days in Cuernavaca.
As fascinating as his books are, they are very dense, and they take a while to get through.
At least for me.
He must have been a very beautiful man, because even at an advanced age, and with the growth on his face, he was still striking.
I wrote a poem for him and I read it to him after dinner. Here is a link to the poem – http://1poet4man.wordpress.com/2007/08/19/mirrors-and-other-illusions/
I again met Ivan closer to the time of his death at Jerry Browns house in Oakland. I met privately with him and Lee Hoinacki, where we discussed this poem…
Poet Man
That’s awesome. From everything I’ve read and heard about him, it seems he had a heavy impact on everyone who spent time with him. A remarkable, luminescent kind of man.