Labels
I have a thing for labels. I get granular, trying to find the perfect fit. It’s almost a compulsion – be it philosophy, religion, politics, or whatever.
Lately, as seen in some of my recent posts, I’ve been going down a political rabbit hole. Much of the underlying motivation has been the desire to properly define (read: label) what I actually believe.
Today was yet another day of pretending to work. I tried to ‘work from home’ due to heavy rain, but my boss straight up told me to deal with it and get to the office. I had one Teams meeting today. One. First thing in the morning. What did I do for the rest of the day? I made our IT department nervous by digging around obscure corners of the internet, indulging my aforementioned compulsion.
And from that perspective, it was a successful day. I found a couple of labels that fit like a glove. I feel better. So, without further ado, here they are:
Anarcho-Pessimism
The human animal is an animated alimentary canal. He has evolved from and differs from the worm only by the appendages which have developed on him.
–Laurance Labadie, Individualist Anarchist (1898 ‐ 1975)
Historically, anarchism is highly optimistic — it assumes that if we just remove the state and capitalism, human nature will default to beautifully organized, voluntary mutual aid.
Anarcho-pessimism (most famously articulated by the 20th-century American individualist writer Laurence Labadie) throws out that optimism. It views civilization as a terminal diagnosis.
While it agrees with the anarchist critique of authority, the state, and capitalism, it has zero faith that humanity has the capacity, wisdom, or inclination to actually build and maintain a free society. If there were two people left on earth, one would insist on taking charge. We just can’t seem to help ourselves.
It recognizes humanity as a repetitive cycle of domination and degradation. It asks us to be honest, to admit that global revolution is a pipe dream. The only logical step in this short life is to withdraw, seek personal autonomy, and extricate oneself from the machine.
This resonates with me on a fundamental level. I want to give up on grand designs and focus on immediate realities, cultivate peace and personal ethics, leave the world to do as it pleases.
Voluntary Exile
What exile from himself can flee? To zones, though more and more remote, Still, still pursues, where'er I be, The blight of life — the lonely thought.
—Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage
Before stumbling upon this term, I viewed my upcoming plans as merely an early retirement. I’ve been framing it in terms of geoarbitrage and adventure. On some level, I knew there was more to it than that, but I couldn’t articulate exactly what. Now I see.
Exile is inherently tragic. It suggests a loss of belonging and identity. To embrace that loss as a voluntary act speaks volumes about the underlying motivations. It becomes a rejection of one’s own home – its culture, politics, and place on the world stage.
Leaving the workforce in my 40s, shrugging off the expectations and norms of modern western life, is an act of self-preservation and quiet revolt. What I gave was never reciprocated; what I thought was real was always a farce.