Solitude as the greatest happiness, remoteness from the world as an opportunity, closeness to nature as inspiration.
At least one person firmly believes that we can emerge stronger and morally renewed from the crises of our time: Henry David Thoreau.
He doesn't give interviews as a matter of principle, just as he is otherwise a rather shy sort. However, the prominent social distancing expert and advocate of the right to civil disobedience has now made an exception for his German publishing house. From his retreat, a cabin on Lake Walden in the US state of Massachusetts, he is surprisingly positive about what is currently gripping our world - and about the time afterwards.
A (fictional) interview by Horst Lauinger
Lauinger: "Mr Thoreau, many people are currently struggling with the general situation. All the crises in the world - more and more people are struggling with the drifting apart of societies and their isolation. You have been living alone in the forest for almost a year now. What is your formula for happiness?"
Thoreau: "The main thing is to celebrate the day. Why let yourself get down and go with the flow? ... For my part, I find it beneficial to be alone most of the time."
Lauinger: "You live in seclusion, where the fox and the hare say goodnight to each other. Every journey and every change begins with the first step. What was the beginning of your retreat?"
Thoreau: "Towards the end of March I borrowed an axe and went into the forest where I intended to build my house on the shore of Lake Walden; nearby I began to cut down a few slender, tall, still young silver firs for lumber. It's difficult to get started without borrowing something, but maybe that's a good thing, too; it gives people a stake in the endeavour ... So I spent a few days felling and hewing trees, making pillars and rafters, all with my narrow axe."
Lauinger: "That sounds like hard physical labour and calluses on your hands."
Thoreau (laughs): "For one to build his own house seems sensible; after all, the bird builds its own nest."
Lauinger: "What enriching experience did you have during your months of splendid isolation?"
Thoreau: "My experiment taught me at least one thing: if you let yourself be guided by your dreams and try to live the life you have in mind, you will have unexpected success in everyday life. You leave all sorts of things behind you, you cross an invisible boundary and new, general and more liberal laws come into force within you and around you; or the old laws are interpreted in a more liberal sense and you live among creatures of a higher order. The more you simplify your life, the clearer the laws of the universe become, and loneliness is then no longer loneliness, poverty no longer poverty, and weakness no longer weakness."
Lauinger: "Didn't you get bored without human company at some point?"
Thoreau: "Boredom cannot arise in such a way of life ... As I sit by the window on this summer afternoon, hawks circle over the clearing; wild pigeons swoop by in twos and threes or perch on the branches of the silver firs behind the house and lend a voice to the still air; an osprey ripples the crystal-clear water and brings up a fish; a mink sneaks out of the reeds in front of my door and grabs a frog on the bank; the reeds bend under the weight of the waterfowl fluttering to and fro ..."
Lauinger: "And you really never feel lonely?"
Thoreau: "Why should I feel lonely? ... Loneliness is not measured by the distance between us and others."
Lauinger: "A remarkable insight. But hand on heart, aren't there sometimes moments when you are tired of your loneliness in the forest?"
Thoreau: "There was only one time when I was oppressed by a feeling of loneliness, and that was a few weeks after I had moved into the forest. For an hour I was in doubt as to whether socialising with people was not essential for peace of mind. Being alone seemed unpleasant. At the same time, however, I was aware that my mood had something morbid about it, and in a way I foresaw it subsiding. In the midst of a gentle rainfall, I was struck by these temptations and suddenly realised how beneficial contact with nature is; the patter of the rain and everything that could be heard and seen around the house enveloped me with such boundless and incomprehensible kindness that the supposed benefits of human contact faded into insignificance, and I haven't given it a second thought since."
Lauinger: "That sounds like a special kind of self-awareness and a genuine closeness to nature."
Thoreau: "Every little pine needle opened my heart."
Lauinger: "Do you have any principles or commandments that you live by?"
Thoreau: "Simplicity, independence, generosity and confidence are the commandments."
Lauinger: "Who exactly is your celebration of simplicity aimed at? To those who despise civilisation? To workaholics in midlife crisis? To capricious nature lovers? Or adventurers in search of the last undiscovered spot on earth?"
Thoreau: "I have no intention of laying down rules of life for strongmen who, in spite of all circumstances, assert themselves and perhaps build more grandly and spend money more lavishly than the richest, without becoming inwardly impoverished because they do not think about how they live - if there are any such strongmen you read about. Nor am I writing for those who draw their courage to face life from their existing circumstances and cling to them with the fervour of lovers - in a sense, I count myself among them. Nor do I address myself to those who are absorbed in a useful occupation, which the people concerned are best placed to judge for themselves. I write primarily for the many who are dissatisfied and idly struggle with their hard fate or the difficult times, even though they could improve both."
Lauinger: "With your counter-proposal, you fundamentally question the capitalist system, the work ethic and our meritocracy. What do you think people are doing wrong?"
Thoreau: ".... Man toils under the impression of an error. His better part is soon ploughed under the ground as fertiliser. Because of an apparent destiny, commonly called necessity, he labours to gather treasures which moths and rust devour, and which thieves dig up to steal. It's stupid to live like this ..."
Lauinger: "But surely it's hard to deny that many of your fellow Americans have made their fortune that way?"
Thoreau (clears his throat): "Even in this comparatively free country, most people, from mere ignorance and delusion, are so occupied by artificial cares and by superfluous hard labour, that they do not get to pluck the finer fruits from the tree of life. Their fingers are too clumsy and shaky from excessive toil. Working life does not leave people enough time to organise their everyday lives in a humane way; they cannot afford to act humanly towards other people, as it could affect the market value of their work. They don't have time to be anything other than a machine."
Lauinger: "In your book 'Walden' you write: 'A new generation abandons the doings of the previous one like a ship that has run aground'. What advice would you give to young people today who are taking to the streets and protesting in favour of a resource-conserving way of life?"
Thoreau: "If you try something that the old people thought was impossible, you will realise that you can do it. Old doings and doings for old people; new doings and doings for new people."
Lauinger: "And what advice would you give to the old?"
Thoreau: "Old age is not fit to be the teacher of youth, for it has gained less than it has lost. One would almost doubt that even the wisest man has learnt anything of absolute value by living. As a guide for life, the old have nothing of relevance to offer the young; their experiences were self-serving, their lives were a miserable failure, for special reasons, as they must assume. And perhaps, despite all their experience, they have retained some courage to face life and are just not as agile."
Lauinger: "But haven't you also learnt from the old people?"
Thoreau: "I have lived on this planet for a good thirty years and am still waiting for the first useful or even worthwhile advice from an older person. I have been taught nothing, probably cannot be taught anything useful. I consider most of what my neighbours consider good to be profoundly bad ..."
Lauinger: "Does it actually bother you that you are regarded by large parts of the world public as a forest goblin who is hostile to pleasure and enjoyment?"
Thoreau: "Public opinion is a tired tyrant compared to our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself determines his fate."
Lauinger: "The crisis year 2023 is drawing to a close. Your motto for 2024?"
Thoreau: "Every change, when considered, is a miracle, but the miracle is happening all the time."
Lauinger: "Dear Mr Thoreau, thank you very much for this interview."
(All of Thoreau's answers are verbatim excerpts from his book "Walden", a kind of green bible, which was published in a new edition by Manesse Verlag in 2020).
At least one person firmly believes that we can emerge stronger and morally renewed from the crises of our time: Henry David Thoreau.
He doesn't give interviews as a matter of principle, just as he is otherwise a rather shy sort. However, the prominent social distancing expert and advocate of the right to civil disobedience has now made an exception for his German publishing house. From his retreat, a cabin on Lake Walden in the US state of Massachusetts, he is surprisingly positive about what is currently gripping our world - and about the time afterwards.
A (fictional) interview by Horst Lauinger
Lauinger: "Mr Thoreau, many people are currently struggling with the general situation. All the crises in the world - more and more people are struggling with the drifting apart of societies and their isolation. You have been living alone in the forest for almost a year now. What is your formula for happiness?"
Thoreau: "The main thing is to celebrate the day. Why let yourself get down and go with the flow? ... For my part, I find it beneficial to be alone most of the time."
Lauinger: "You live in seclusion, where the fox and the hare say goodnight to each other. Every journey and every change begins with the first step. What was the beginning of your retreat?"
Thoreau: "Towards the end of March I borrowed an axe and went into the forest where I intended to build my house on the shore of Lake Walden; nearby I began to cut down a few slender, tall, still young silver firs for lumber. It's difficult to get started without borrowing something, but maybe that's a good thing, too; it gives people a stake in the endeavour ... So I spent a few days felling and hewing trees, making pillars and rafters, all with my narrow axe."
Lauinger: "That sounds like hard physical labour and calluses on your hands."
Thoreau (laughs): "For one to build his own house seems sensible; after all, the bird builds its own nest."
Lauinger: "What enriching experience did you have during your months of splendid isolation?"
Thoreau: "My experiment taught me at least one thing: if you let yourself be guided by your dreams and try to live the life you have in mind, you will have unexpected success in everyday life. You leave all sorts of things behind you, you cross an invisible boundary and new, general and more liberal laws come into force within you and around you; or the old laws are interpreted in a more liberal sense and you live among creatures of a higher order. The more you simplify your life, the clearer the laws of the universe become, and loneliness is then no longer loneliness, poverty no longer poverty, and weakness no longer weakness."
Lauinger: "Didn't you get bored without human company at some point?"
Thoreau: "Boredom cannot arise in such a way of life ... As I sit by the window on this summer afternoon, hawks circle over the clearing; wild pigeons swoop by in twos and threes or perch on the branches of the silver firs behind the house and lend a voice to the still air; an osprey ripples the crystal-clear water and brings up a fish; a mink sneaks out of the reeds in front of my door and grabs a frog on the bank; the reeds bend under the weight of the waterfowl fluttering to and fro ..."
Lauinger: "And you really never feel lonely?"
Thoreau: "Why should I feel lonely? ... Loneliness is not measured by the distance between us and others."
Lauinger: "A remarkable insight. But hand on heart, aren't there sometimes moments when you are tired of your loneliness in the forest?"
Thoreau: "There was only one time when I was oppressed by a feeling of loneliness, and that was a few weeks after I had moved into the forest. For an hour I was in doubt as to whether socialising with people was not essential for peace of mind. Being alone seemed unpleasant. At the same time, however, I was aware that my mood had something morbid about it, and in a way I foresaw it subsiding. In the midst of a gentle rainfall, I was struck by these temptations and suddenly realised how beneficial contact with nature is; the patter of the rain and everything that could be heard and seen around the house enveloped me with such boundless and incomprehensible kindness that the supposed benefits of human contact faded into insignificance, and I haven't given it a second thought since."
Lauinger: "That sounds like a special kind of self-awareness and a genuine closeness to nature."
Thoreau: "Every little pine needle opened my heart."
Lauinger: "Do you have any principles or commandments that you live by?"
Thoreau: "Simplicity, independence, generosity and confidence are the commandments."
Lauinger: "Who exactly is your celebration of simplicity aimed at? To those who despise civilisation? To workaholics in midlife crisis? To capricious nature lovers? Or adventurers in search of the last undiscovered spot on earth?"
Thoreau: "I have no intention of laying down rules of life for strongmen who, in spite of all circumstances, assert themselves and perhaps build more grandly and spend money more lavishly than the richest, without becoming inwardly impoverished because they do not think about how they live - if there are any such strongmen you read about. Nor am I writing for those who draw their courage to face life from their existing circumstances and cling to them with the fervour of lovers - in a sense, I count myself among them. Nor do I address myself to those who are absorbed in a useful occupation, which the people concerned are best placed to judge for themselves. I write primarily for the many who are dissatisfied and idly struggle with their hard fate or the difficult times, even though they could improve both."
Lauinger: "With your counter-proposal, you fundamentally question the capitalist system, the work ethic and our meritocracy. What do you think people are doing wrong?"
Thoreau: ".... Man toils under the impression of an error. His better part is soon ploughed under the ground as fertiliser. Because of an apparent destiny, commonly called necessity, he labours to gather treasures which moths and rust devour, and which thieves dig up to steal. It's stupid to live like this ..."
Lauinger: "But surely it's hard to deny that many of your fellow Americans have made their fortune that way?"
Thoreau (clears his throat): "Even in this comparatively free country, most people, from mere ignorance and delusion, are so occupied by artificial cares and by superfluous hard labour, that they do not get to pluck the finer fruits from the tree of life. Their fingers are too clumsy and shaky from excessive toil. Working life does not leave people enough time to organise their everyday lives in a humane way; they cannot afford to act humanly towards other people, as it could affect the market value of their work. They don't have time to be anything other than a machine."
Lauinger: "In your book 'Walden' you write: 'A new generation abandons the doings of the previous one like a ship that has run aground'. What advice would you give to young people today who are taking to the streets and protesting in favour of a resource-conserving way of life?"
Thoreau: "If you try something that the old people thought was impossible, you will realise that you can do it. Old doings and doings for old people; new doings and doings for new people."
Lauinger: "And what advice would you give to the old?"
Thoreau: "Old age is not fit to be the teacher of youth, for it has gained less than it has lost. One would almost doubt that even the wisest man has learnt anything of absolute value by living. As a guide for life, the old have nothing of relevance to offer the young; their experiences were self-serving, their lives were a miserable failure, for special reasons, as they must assume. And perhaps, despite all their experience, they have retained some courage to face life and are just not as agile."
Lauinger: "But haven't you also learnt from the old people?"
Thoreau: "I have lived on this planet for a good thirty years and am still waiting for the first useful or even worthwhile advice from an older person. I have been taught nothing, probably cannot be taught anything useful. I consider most of what my neighbours consider good to be profoundly bad ..."
Lauinger: "Does it actually bother you that you are regarded by large parts of the world public as a forest goblin who is hostile to pleasure and enjoyment?"
Thoreau: "Public opinion is a tired tyrant compared to our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself determines his fate."
Lauinger: "The crisis year 2023 is drawing to a close. Your motto for 2024?"
Thoreau: "Every change, when considered, is a miracle, but the miracle is happening all the time."
Lauinger: "Dear Mr Thoreau, thank you very much for this interview."
(All of Thoreau's answers are verbatim excerpts from his book "Walden", a kind of green bible, which was published in a new edition by Manesse Verlag in 2020).
