Downgrade is only real when shared
Intro-The-Wild
I’ll be quoting Jon Krakauer throughout this essay. He wrote “Into the Wild” in 1996 — we are just 28 years away. This book is an expansion of a 9,000-word article by Krakauer on Chris McCandless titled “Death of an Innocent”. Chris was someone real, someone who rejected society and the lifestyle humans took, assuming the name of Alexander Supertramp to distance himself. He died inside an old abandoned bus in Alaska, poisoned by a potato seed he shouldn’t have eaten. I’m someone who wants to question how innocent (meaning: not affecting others, thus not connected) is our life — not our death — if we put it in the hands of the digital realm.
“Don’t settle down and sit in one place. Move around, be nomadic, make each day a new horizon. You are still going to live a long time, Ron, and it would be a shame if you did not take the opportunity to revolutionize your life and move into an entirely new realm of experience.”
When I was younger, I dreamed of becoming “Alexander Supertramp.” I wanted to wear a backpack, stare at the horizon, leave society behind and point to where I wanted to go, all while singing, “It was an early morning yesterday, I was up before the dawn, And I really have enjoyed my stay, But I must be moving on.”. From there, the world would be mine. Time wouldn’t matter, and meeting real people, sharing experiences, stories, laughter, and tears, would be my everything. No money, no digital distractions — was this even a concept then? -, no attachments, just pure happiness, made real through sharing. By sharing I mean being aware of animals, knowing plants and trees, staying submersed in cold waters, navigating by the stars, identifying edible berries and mushrooms — this one would have been crucial to avoiding the fate of “Alexander” — and learning how to build a canoe. Most of all, to be able to connect with nature and others, earth to heart. To get emotional when saying goodbye to a group of new friends, but to smile, while not looking back, in the certainty of making new ones.
It all started with a life, an article, then a book, that eventually turned into a movie and later into a fashion. Fashion, you ask? Yes, everyone wanted to live the romantic dream of going “Into the Wild”. The only thing a whole generation wasn’t counting on, was a big and exponential digital revolution, that would also turn our will to connect into “beepers”, then into “phones with the snake game”, into “phones with a blurred camera” and all of a sudden, just out of nowhere, we are “sharing” through a small LCD that depends on the touch of our fingers and pays our bills. Abrupt, wasn’t it?
“Alexander” would probably be disappointed to know that the bus — Woodstock 1969 style — where his life ended, would in a few years probably be an SUV with Wi-Fi integrated, camera sensors, and automatic lights, where a teenager would be streaming live, via TikTok, the meal with artificially farmed shrooms to simulate the end of his life, generating an NFT that would be sold at an enormous price on some other platform. Ufffffff… just writing this cost me a part of my soul, only because unfortunately it’s real — maybe a bit exaggerated. Never mind, as I said, this is not a pessimistic text, I just wanted you to picture how we went from one paradigm into another, almost without realizing it.
In this fast-paced and rapidly evolving world, it’s easy to become overwhelmed by vicious revolutions that enter our lives almost without asking for permission, covering our dreams. Well, let me be clear, technology and the digital realm are not these monsters that took away the walk on the wild side of life — though “everybody had to pay and pay” -, nor are they superficial. I’m writing this text because I feel they are the ones who will bring this “degrowth” will back. After years of obsession and overwhelming explorations, it’s time to remind ourselves to be aware of it. When you think about it, ironically, if “Alexander” had an app to identify types of eatable seeds, he would have never eaten that one. See how it all can work with moderation?
Super Apple
“You are really good. I mean, you’re like, a hundred thousand times better than like any apple I’ve ever had. I’m not Superman, I’m Supertramp and you’re super apple. You’re so tasty, you’re so organic, so natural.”
I forgot about going into the wild but I’m reminded each day of the importance of finding balance in my daily life. Once again, balance, some years ago, would be about surf or skateboards, not eating so much chocolate, or crossing a river in a tree’s old trunk, today when I think of balance, I mean the measurement of how many digital inputs I’m taking on a single day, compared to the rain drops I observed crawling down my window.
Now, before delving more into this topic…I’m curious about what a kid today thinks when reading the quote I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter: “Super apple”?! Oh, super Apple, of course, iOS, Iphone, Icloud, Istation, Itree, Iwater, Istone, I, I, I, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII.” ARGH! That’s not it! “Alexander” was living a touching moment of gratitude and prayer, a real moment of awareness, when recognizing that an apple can be a Super Apple, just for being it, naturally, with no artificialities, just for being there for him. Well…balances, are we even noticing how we tend not to be connected to this simplicity anymore?
All these thoughts tried to show how we urgently long for freedom in a world tethered by constant notifications and distorted meanings, caused by a lack of general attention. Now, from this point, I’ll leave my individual assumptions of all of this — for the sake of balance — and share my super apples. From an I, what I’ll be writing from this point on until the end of the chapter is the result of a We. What we — me and some friends and colleagues, those who still think about going into the wild — naturally, organically and consciously shared about this balance of using technology, without being ruled by it. Mostly, to show that being aware is the first step to ruling over it and sharing is the way to disseminate this feeling naturally.
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The unbelievable influx of alerts on our screens is a burden we silently carry every day (in our pockets), pulling us away from what surrounds us. It’s not (only) the money, the capitalism, the fevering pressure of everything, everywhere, all at once. This feeling that we are missing, that someone is missing us, that we need to reply, that something is waiting. It’s not a bear chasing after us, but it feels much worse than it (that’s another movie anyway). Oh, right, and as if this wasn’t strange enough, what about social media? The place where people constantly strive to please an unseen audience, chasing likes and approval. An overwhelming urge, leaving us perpetually on edge, inside an illusion. Platforms like TikTok, with their invasive voyeurism, draining our energy and making us live lives we don’t want. Each ping is a call to decide: to engage or to step back. We, for one, have chosen to step back, we pointed to Alaska and we are starting our journey there.
Instagram is absent from our phones. Instead of scrolling during our commute, we gaze out the window, though the metro’s view leaves much to be desired. After work, we walk, messages unanswered, maybe a call to a relative, savoring the solitude as if it were a task in itself. Moving apps around so they get hidden from the automatic gestures, turning off read receipts, and limiting screen time — these small rebellions 21st-century acts that create a significant impact. By night, our gadgets rest in sleep mode, far away from the pillows. Morning routines became sanctuaries, undisturbed by the digital world, carved on pieces of paper, crayons, and contemplations. Turning off the phone — activating airplane mode, even when no one is flying -, and diving into moments that are solely ours imbues this sense of compensation. Setting daily limits for app usage awakens us to the hours spent before screens, urging us to reclaim what used to be our time.
Our constant (des)connectivity births a peculiar paradox: we must stay connected to live/work/relate, yet yearn for the anti-stressness of disconnection. Cutting the digital cord brings this sense of going back into the wild. We envision this reversed process, in which the high buildings and squares full of digital screens and advertising will be soon taken by plants covering them all over. It allows us to notice the overlooked details, to contemplate simplicity, to walk above the ants without stepping on them. Real-world interactions, observing our surroundings, and drawing a clear line between lives — the real one and not so real — are the only ways we can still have hope for this shared feeling of letting go.
Embracing alternatives can significantly enhance our probability of having some hope for humanity. To encourage in-person interactions, to foster connections with the whole (eco)system. This shift from digital to physical presence is vital, especially in a post-pandemic world, where people were close to thinking that nothing was ever going to be the same thus nothing had more consequences. Guess what? We made it out of the pandemic and time is counting.
Analog activities, such as using a traditional camera, offer a unique artistic joy. The mystery of developing film contrasts with the instant gratification of immediate results of digital photos. This example highlights how the processes around creation used to be patient, peculiar, and expectative, almost like fishing — and guess what, that was educating generations on these virtues. These low-tech activities, such as reading a book, writing to a friend, making a draw, baking bread, planting a flower or simply soaking in the city’s rhythm, looking people in the eyes, and seeing how lost they are — even with google maps and shared location.
Accepting that we may miss out on trends brings a surprising peace. The pressure to engage and please lifts, allowing focus on what truly matters. Reducing the emotional weight of digital is key. It’s about not needing 200 likes to feel valued but rather 200 hugs. We must keep detoxifying these (plat)forms and reshape our relationship with them. For some, they are lifelines; for many others, they are a source of unnecessary stress. What a wonderful world.
While technology is an inescapable part of modern life, finding balance is essential. By consciously reducing our digital reliance and embracing simpler, more intentional activities, we can reclaim our time and hopefully our journey. Are we still in time?
Only Real When Shared
“I’m going to paraphrase Thoreau here… rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness… give me truth.”
“Alexander” resorts to this powerful thought to make clear his belief of how the pursuit of truth and self-realization transcends material possessions and external recognition. He understands that personal growth emerges from living in alignment with one’s (another) inner truths — not what forcibly the world is considering. Through this introspection and communion with nature(s), we can uncover the deeper layers of human existence. Simplicity, self-reliance, and a harmonious relationship with the natural world, to be able to foster a profound understanding of ourselves and our surroundings. Silence. Quietness. Water running.
Thoreau’s emphasis on truth continues to resonate with those seeking meaning in their lives. But isn’t this path started by first being able to develop awareness? A W A R E N E N E S S, collective, beautiful and actionable consciousness.
Look at how we can access and see everything — every monument, every wonder of the world — through our computers or phones, with 3D technology, immersive experiences, or virtual reality, all without leaving the comfort of our screens. How convenient! Yet, there’s something irresistibly magical that calls us humans to urge to experience things live. That’s why we travel, attend shows, and go to theatres, events, and restaurants. However, when we finally reach these live experiences and destinations, what do we do? We immediately pull out our phones to capture videos and photos to share online. Is this about sharing, or is it about our ego? We are so contradictory. It seems we’re more mesmerized by the desire to share rather than living the experiences. In our quest to document every moment, are we even aware of it? I think there’s no way you don’t notice the 43.976 raised phones standing between you and the stage and you don’t find it ridiculous.
Now, Empiricism — just as a reference — explains that knowledge arises from sensory experiences. Isn’t this the short way to align this journey of disconnection with awareness? It wasn’t me who said it, it was the philosophers who thought for centuries about it. By stepping away from digital interfaces and immersing ourselves in the tangible, sensory-rich real world, we are able to understand our reality. On the other hand, when we then share these experiences, we create a collective truth forged through shared sensory encounters. This communal exploration and exchange of insights are what deepens our sense of unity. Healers, elders, witches, sailors, shepherds, farmers — those who knew the land, the sea, the animals, the earth, the plants and their properties intimately — passed this knowledge from generation to generation in a profound and human way. This ancestral wisdom was transmitted through practical demonstration, careful repetition, and genuine admiration, not through a reminder on WhatsApp or an “Instastory”. It was the richest treasure, to receive these teachings and to be responsible for passing them on.
These figures were the guardians of natural wisdom, respecting and valuing every detail of the environment around them. Through their actions, they taught with love and reverence, ensuring that the knowledge remained alive, rooted in practice and direct experience. This mode of transmission, imbued with lived experiences and stories, used to create a deep and lasting connection between people and nature (and people and people), something that modern technologies are not properly being inspiring at. Just as Empiricism values direct experience as the foundation of knowledge, the act of sharing these experiences amplifies their significance, transforming individual truths into a shared narrative. And for them to be direct, they can’t be digital, otherwise they are already processed. This interconnectedness through shared (real) experiences cultivates a more empathetic world where truth is not only discovered but also co-created, reinforcing the profound impact of collective awareness and communal living. Isn’t this what’s been lacking, I mean, in general?!
This contemplation inside a contemplation about the delicate balance between our digital lives and the natural world that calls out to us. Downgrading, degrowth, detoxing and disconnecting from technology isn’t just about escaping for Alaska with a backpack, it’s about thinking, it’s about where you place your head. The journey into the wild, whether literal or metaphorical, must be a journey toward genuine connection. Imagine a world where we step back from our screens and truly see each other, where conversations are not filtered or interrupted by a ringtone, where we don’t ignore what’s happening around us just because a screen can take us to another place and where the secrets of a hidden beach are more captivating than any viral video revealing them.
In the end, the call to downgrade isn’t about rejecting technology entirely. It’s about choosing when and how to engage with it, ensuring it serves the greater good. It’s about finding that sacred space where we can listen to the wolves howl and maybe get to understand them. It’s about climbing a mountain so we can see the moon closer and hopefully analyze its seas with a greater lens. It’s about being able to provide filtered water to an old couple that inhabits an old village by themselves. It’s about helping bees with a structure that can monitor their temperature so they can survive summer. It’s about fear…are we afraid of the digital? If we are, I see some hope, because it was this fear of what is real that made us evolve until here.
While I close this file.doc, on my computer, on my digital screen, to post it online, in a digital platform, so you can read it on your screen, I’m pondering about it being my last one. I’ll go back to my pen and paper, maybe I can send it to you in a postcard. I’m not sure if I’ll have the strength to fulfill it but I’ll certainly, at least, think about it. Find me in Alaska, I’m aware now, I went back, I thought about it, I’m fearful, I’m ready.
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Bye,
Finally, Into the wild.
This article was written by our Communication Coordinator, João Moreira.
