ON VACATION AND CIVILIZATION (2005)

We, as members of the human race, are active and willing participants in what we so proudly and lovingly refer to as “civilization”. We speak of it with pride. It is the absolute sum of our ancestors’ toil, tears, premature deaths, and bloodshed. It is the culmination of years and centuries of trial and error, mistake and solution, shame and retribution, and also careful calculation. Thus, silently, we insist that it works. Not only do we stand behind its effectiveness, but we seem to stand behind the notion that it is the only option. Our reasons for this do not seem to have to do with necessity, but rather they seem to be built out of pride and the desire to have some sort of larger whole on which to cling. We seem to seek society and civilization’s support and encouragement and acceptance of our selves in the same way that we seek the same from our own peers and family members. We even fund it, through our tax dollars, and in doing so we put our trust into it. And so why should we not uphold it? Has it not served us well? Most would say yes, but how can this be known when none of us have any knowledge of what our existences might be like were it not present? And, despite the words that seem to show our support for it, do we actually love it as we really should, considering how much we put into it and how much we are a part of it (though perhaps not in the ways that we should be)? Naturally, we like to believe that we do not simply speak well of it because we have to. We like to convince ourselves that we truly are willing to stand behind all the praise that we allot to our society; that we believe it and that this belief is instinctual. Perhaps we need to believe that we do, in fact, think highly of it, because we need to be able to justify our participation in it, our work for its cause, and our lack of retaliation against it. Truly, the fact that it is so instinctual is what scares me a bit. The word “instinct” connotes a lack of premeditation on a topic, a lack of careful thought (or any form of thought at all), and a reliance on tradition without regard to situation or tangible evidence of cause and effect.
Not all of us participate in Civilization in the commonly-recognized way. There are the Amish. There are the Menonites. There are those who choose to live alone in cabins in the mountains, if they are fortunate enough to find property that they can afford in such rustic locales, or if they are sly enough to make their home on public land and somehow avoid the governmental radar and Eviction Man. There are those of us who choose an alternative route, in an attempt to remove ourselves permanently from civilization, but even in the act of refusing to be a part of it, we are further promoting it, for we are strengthening the line between it and that-which-is-not it, and making it more present and apparent simply by giving it something to be in contrast with. There are, too, those of us who leave one civilization in favor of another (or one country in favor of another), but in actuality, this seems to actually help that civilization which is left (and, presumably, despised or disliked) to flourish all the more, for it removes those members who would pose a threat to it (those who might be able to provide balance through their own defiance, or those who would dull the blade of that which they do not support) and it increases the predominance of the sort of mind that supports and creates the very entity that they so loathe. Furthermore, those Creators of the Loathed will have less of an awareness of the fact that their actions or ways are not fully supported, and because this lack of awareness denies them of their very conscience – one allotted to them only to their extreme dismay, but present nonetheless – and as a result of this, there might be less of a moral presence involved in their actions, and they might feel more able to do what they had done before (and what they had done that caused those who left to do so) since they will then face less criticism and anger in doing so.
It seems to me that there is something lacking in our civilization. This conscience, of which I just spoke, is part of this void, and the other part of it seems to be tangible products created by those who compose this conscience (when I speak of a “conscience”, I mean a collection of individuals, emotions, ideas, publications, teachings, etc. that counteract that which is predominant and keep in check the decisions made by those who support this predominant way of being): art, literature, love, philosophy, etc. These things do exist, but their importance seems to be too often ignored, or they seem to be too often turned into commercial objects used to in fact support the economy and, subsequently, the part of civilization that they originally were created in order to counter. Many things could be held responsible for this phenomenon (this commodification): Andy Warhol, because he mastered (and preached to others) just how an artist might turn himself into a brand or a product and make money by doing so, or the media, for blurring the line between entertainment and criticism/news. It is odd that the attachment of money to these armies of the conscience (do excuse) has, in many cases, lessened their influence and effect. It seems that the opposite should be the case. Instead, it seems that the result has been this: some artists, writers, and thinkers make a great deal of money, and get a lot of attention. Because of this, others are ignored, and therefore this conscience is less accurate, for it is representative of a smaller number of individuals/groups. Sickeningly, those of which it is representative must, therefore, also be those who are best at stepping on others to reach the top, those most concerned with money, those most conscious of what the targeted audience wants to see (and therefore much less likely to be controversial in any way), and those most willing to kiss ass. I’m not sure how most of us feel about this, but I certainly do not find this sort of person to be the sort best suited for the job of countering such large establishments/entities as the government or society or lazy, conformist modes of thinking.
What evidence, you ask, do I cite in order to conclude that civilization is lacking in some way? I suppose one primary form of evidence to this fact is this: such a thing exists as a vacation. If we lived in a society in which we were perfectly content, would we still feel the need to get away from it? Vacation seems to not only be an escape from the workplace, for again and again we hear the catch-phrase, “get away from it all”, when people speak of their reasons for vacation. They do not say, “get away from my job,” but “it all”. Unless I am mistaken, this means all of it, nothing excluded: everything! Does this mean that there is not one thing in our lives that we are able to consistently participate in without feeling the need to leave it? Is it simply that we require an outside perspective in order to make sense of the sphere of existence that we normally dwell in? The most likely explanation of the need for vacation seems to be this: we are not comfortable or satisfied with our society or our civilization.
Since we built society (we being the human race), should not we have built it in a way that we might be content with? Since we built it, does that not mean that we have (and have always had) absolute control over its form and its purpose? Why is it not enough then? Or is it too much? I am only able to draw from these questions the suggestion that perhaps we, even when given complete control, are not able to create what we want or need for ourselves. This leads me to assert that we must be unaware of what exactly we do want and need.
Perhaps we are better off creating for ourselves a world that is not comfortable for us anyway, and perhaps, then, my complaints are counterproductive. Additionally, perhaps we know this, and we are subconsciously doing what is best for ourselves as a human race. This could be the result of that concept of the collective unconscious shining through, and the presence of a care and compassion for the human race and for the future of the human race, existing within this collective unconscious. Let me explain myself. A state of discomfort could be a good thing for both the and for humanity as a whole, in quite a few ways. First of all, discomfort keeps humanity active. Think about a chair in a restaurant: If the chair is uncomfortable, we eat faster and leave the restaurant more quickly, or we seek a more comfortable chair with which to exchange the awkward one. If the chair is comfortable, however, we remain in it for long periods of time, even after we have become bored of it or idle in it, as long as we want, sometimes even long enough to fall asleep in it, just because it is more comfortable than most. Using this metaphor, we, as a society, have no other “chairs” to go to (aside from other civilizations or countries, something I already discussed, and many of which are very similar in make to the original), so we simply take breaks from the “chair” that is our society, and return to it again and again. What happens between turns in the chair seems to be essential and important, for we keep doing it. We seem to be sitting in uncomfortable “chairs”, and by my logic this would lead us to believe that we make more progress, and are less stagnant: we “eat faster”. But this metaphor seems to be almost too appropriate, for quick eating also brings to mind something else: poor digestion. We are, perhaps, working harder because we are not comfortable, but we don’t seem to be analyzing or justifying the work that we do. This seems to be a dangerous hypothesis.
Don’t we need to be uncomfortable in order to move forward; in order to progress as a society? Do we intentionally build ourselves a hell, so that we feel the need to leave it, solely because leaving it is the only thing that might keep us moving? Is not the movement out of a place a more desperate form of motion than any other? When we have something we feel strongly to be bad, are we not more motivated to change it? Discomfort makes us aware of the areas that desperately need attention and change, and it does so in a much more effective way than comfort ever could, doesn’t it? If we dwelled in a Utopia, we would see nothing that needed to be changed, and we would become bored, and it seems inevitable that this Utopia would be more of a Hell than Hell ever could be, simply because in Hell (that is, in a place of discomfort), we are able to be optimistic and we are able to have hope. These are two things that may be more important to all of us than the present actually is, and more important to us than comfort. In this so-called Utopia, all we are left with is fear and pessimism: pessimism, which exists due to the fact that the only direction we have to go is downwards (into a more negative, horrible state), and fear, because we have something that is as good as it can be and therefore we fear the loss of it. Any individual, it seems to be true, would rather be consumed by hope and optimism and upward progress than fear and pessimism and a feeling of lack-of-control and inevitable-decline.
But what if stagnancy is a good thing, and not a bad thing? What exactly takes place between turns in the “chair” of society (that is, during vacations), anyhow? Is it something more along the lines of rest and respite, or is it something more along the lines of mobilization: mobilization of thoughts, emotions, and needs, and the putting-into-order of these things? And what if the breaks taken from the “chair” (the vacations) are just turns sitting in other, more comfortable “chairs”? What if mental action requires physical rest? And what if the contrary is true? Do we not, then need both work and vacation, action and idleness; time to sit in a chair and time to be away from it? Perhaps balance is the key, and not a preference towards mobility or immobility? If this is the case, still something is awry, for the time that we spend on vacation is not remotely equal to the time spent laboring.
Furthermore, it seems that the exclusive focus on one kind of labor, or one facet of one specific branch of work, is limiting, and limited. Vacation (I dislike using this term because it implies that what happens during this time consists only of slacking, schmoozing, and wasting time), if participated in for longer periods of time, would lose the stigma that it has of being a time of idleness, for the human mind dislikes idleness, and individuals would fill this free time with work and action, therefore rendering this time not very idle after all. Even better, the work done here would be, perhaps, more meaningful, both to the worker and to the world as whole, for in his relaxation, the vacationer might contemplate where he might best apply his vacation-time work. Because it is entirely up to the vacationer, he is most likely to choose a vacation occupation that is most necessary, fulfilling, applicable, relevant, and useful. I do believe that each member of a society, if respectful of the society, and if optimistic as to the society’s potential, has in him a desire to better this society, and to work for the good of all. We need a break from society in order to possess this respect for it, and we also need a break from it in order to use this respect and apply it to whatever work we might do to fill our time. If the respect is great enough, the work will most likely be something that gives back to the said society, and in this way the exchange between individual and society will continue to flourish and be beneficial to both. If, however, the individual does not have a break from society (or “civilization), and if he is unable to find time to step away from it and see any importance that it has in his life, he will come to loathe it with all his might. My logic runs in parallel lines to a basic psychological principle that states that, when given a reward (such as a vacation), the recipient of the reward will gain respect for the person or thing that bestowed the reward upon him (in this case, society). I suggest that our civilization does not do enough in the way of rewarding the individuals that make up its whole being, and as a result these individuals are somewhat ambivalent towards it or even unappreciative of it, and feel no desire to give back to it or improve it, even though it is something that is truly theirs to use and possess and improve. Even worse, perhaps, they seem to take on the attitude that civilization, as though it were a human being in and of itself with emotions and personality all its own, feels entitled to something that each individual must give to it, as if in payment. The individuals, having not had time to reflect on why it might be respected and why it might actually deserve such payment, are not eager to fulfill this assumed entitlement, or even grow spiteful of the fact that Civilization seems to feel entitled, and they, therefore, do the minimum to give back to Civilization, or do nothing (if they can get away with it). It seems that they do not realize that they are unknowingly making the world in which they must dwell a more miserable and less inspiring/fulfilling place to be, which greater increases their desire for those much-too-short-vacations which are not what they should be and do not allow the individuals time to use them for what they really could be used for and certainly not time to gain a respect for that which they are vacationing from. As a result, this cycle continues, and the loathing of civilization continues, and the workers become more begrudging and irritated, and both Civilization and Individual feel that they are not receiving that which they want and that to which they are entitled. The outcome of such a cycle can only be a drab society, perhaps sprinkled with individuals who feel passionately that they must fight to keep it from being drab, yet these individuals also feel intense frustration, for they are surrounded by other individuals who, instead of sharing this passion, look at it as a weakness, or perhaps look at it as a respect for something that does not deserve respect (because it does not give them enough time of their own).
If we are, as we seem to feel, truly in control, why would we build ourselves something that we must run from? Is it simply because we are bored? Are we masochistic by nature, with innate desire to inflict pain on ourselves, because this pain gives us something to react to (and we react more strongly to pain than to joy)? Is the action of reaction the only way in which we feel truly busy or productive or useful?
Here I bring up another possibility. It seems that we build civilization in the image of ourselves, in order to accurately reflect ourselves. Is this because it is our selves that we most love to gaze lovingly upon, but this is not considered something that we should do, so we transfer the torch-bearer of the Self to that thing which is Society? What does it say about our feelings regarding ourselves if we must escape from that which represents us? It seems to say that we feel we must escape from ourselves, and in fact we do seem to feel this way (hence the use of alcohol and drugs and the existence of irresponsibility, tendency toward accusation and finger-pointing, and other means of escapism). Perhaps we intentionally build a civilization that serves as a reflection of our flaws, that we must escape from, so that we can deal with the acceptance of our own flaws in a way that lets us treat these flaws as something very much removed from ourselves. If this is the case, then it seems logical that we should keep doing so, unless it is healthier for us to deal with the recognition of our own flaws in a more personal way, acknowledging their attachment to our selves and acknowledging the fact that faults are our own. But perhaps we would not deal with these faults at all if we did not build ourselves reflections of them to gaze upon and run from. I suppose the danger lies here: the way we perceive ourselves differs from the way that we are in actuality. Because of this, we might build a society in a false representation of ourselves, and therefore our analysis of this society and its errors, and the relation of this society to the self (whether this happens on a conscious or unconscious level) might turn out to be misleading and also counterproductive. Also dangerous seems to be the fact that, since the conscience of society is impaired (as I said above), we tend to focus on the praise of our society. If we are praising a false representation of ourselves, we are being delusional and ignoring issues that must be addressed. However, if we are praising accurate representations of ourselves, this is just as unhealthy, for we are being entirely narcissistic.
If we do, in fact, create civilization in our own image, do we believe ourselves Gods, or like to think of ourselves as Gods? Just as God created Adam in his image, we create cities and systems in ways that seem to reflect ourselves. We seem to worship society, and in turn worship ourselves, and thus we practice idolization on a daily basis, but not simply idolization: idolization of the self. Nothing can be learned by looking only at the self. Since we do not truly understand the nature of society, nor do we like it (as is confirmed by the concept of vacation), we seem to be basing emotions as strong as those of faith on concepts that are unstable, and we seem to be building our lives and goals and heroes upon concepts that are convoluted.
This brings us to another point. It is apparent that vacation itself is often an escape not only from the social and mental aspects of civilization, but also from the physical manifestations of civilization: tall buildings, crowded streets, traffic light, loud noises, and similar entities. That is, we often go escape to nature. Since vacation seems to exist primarily to supply us with that which we are lacking, at least for a short while, it seems that nature must represent all that civilization lacks. If we build civilization in our own image, it seems that we must like to be surrounded by our own image. What if, then, nature represents or reflects some part of the self that we are unable to fully portray in the part of civilization over which we have control and artistic license (this part being our cities and social, political, or economical networks)?
Perhaps this is wrong and the opposite is true: we go to nature because it does not remind us of ourselves. Perhaps being in a place less like the self allows us to more clearly see the essence of the self, for in seeing what we are not we are able to better understand what we are. Perhaps nature serves as a marker which we are able to examine and with which we are able to measure just how much we have deviated from it; how unlike it we have become. This would explain why vacation often leaves us not rested but instead more depressed than prior to the vacation. Does vacation just remind the individual of how unnatural he has become, and how little he is able to relate to the natural world from which he sprung and from which he was born?
There is a different way to interpret our reasons for escaping to nature. Maybe we escape to the wilderness because something in each of us is aware of the narcissism of society and aware of the falseness of society’s portrayal of the self (existing because of the discrepancy between perception of the self and actuality of the self) and subsequently the convolution of this narcissism. If this is true, and if we are aware of this, it seems likely that we might feel the desire to go to nature in order to see a portrayal or the self that is not created by us, or by one of us, and is therefore completely honest (this is if nature is seen as a reflection of the self), or perhaps simply as something other than narcissism: something entirely unrelated to the self (this is if nature is not viewed as a reflection of the self).
Sometimes, we vacation to places that are not actually more natural than the place from which we come, but simply different from it: sometimes different to a very small degree, but just different enough to make us feel as though there has been a change. Taking into account this, and also taking into account our frequent vacationing into nature itself, it appears that the desired destination for vacation is, above all else, any place that is different. This makes sense, for a place that is different allows us to examine the self in a new way, or to perhaps get back in touch with the self. It is similar to the act of viewing a paper cutout of a certain color against a background of another color (or of the same color, if the surroundings were fashioned to represent the cutout). When the color of the background is changed, the cutout is emphasized and altered because of the now existent contrast where previously the contrast was different.
It is difficult to determine whether civilization or nature might better reflect the self. In both, we see ourselves in parallel form. In both, also, we see something that is not us, and this simple perception and the recognition of this dissonance, in a backwards way, also helps us to better understand the self. It must, therefore, be possible to get to know the self better in either the city or the country; in civilization or in nature. It also seems that an important factor in getting to understand the self is just the change of environment (the frequent instances of getting up from the uncomfortable chair and taking a break from its pain). How might the city man’s way of knowing the self differ from the country or forest man’s way of knowing the self? Are these two types of men able to coexist? What of the man who exists in both the city and the country: does this man understand the self better than either the city man or the country man?
If nature does, in fact, reflect man, by an equal degree to that by which civilization reflects man, then it must be concluded that nature is the most accurate reflection of the human race. I say this because nature is something not created by men, and therefore it is not built upon distorted or inaccurate views of the self or, even, overly-prideful or egotistical views of the self which are extremely inaccurate and cause the “reflection” to be something other than that. It becomes less of a reflection or a parallel and more of a foolish portrayal or twisted lie.
Perhaps we can learn more from nature, whether it reflects us or not, because we learn more, about our selves and about the world around us, when we are not simply gazing at our own reflection, no matter how distorted the reflection might be. What can be gained by looking at only what we are already familiar with (the self)? Nature provokes us to do otherwise.

Thus, we are not only active participants in the human race, but also in a long-standing tradition known as escapism, which is perhaps becoming less infrequent and more essential.