This post will form a rough critique of The Guardian’s “I gave it all up” series, which puts a spotlight on people who chose to quit their life and “start over again”. From the series’ homepage: “From the lawyer who became a human cannonball, to the pharmacy manager who went to live on a desert island, five risk-takers share their stories”. I don’t mean to single out The Guardian as solely worthy of critique – similar stories crop up all the time in minimalist, travel and simple living circles, as well as other mainstream publications like Time – but the emphasis implied by the dedication of an entire series offers a pretty suitable target. Effectively, I want to be able to move past the series alone in order to critique the archetype in general.
Here’s how these articles usually run: “I worked as X for £Y, but gave it up for Z and here is what it has taught me” where X is a corporate job, Y is more than you earn and Z is something that appears, on the face of it, simple, marketable and liberating. In the case of the most recent Guardian article, Z is cycling around the world with a dog.
In order to get my teeth into this I’m going to reference Louis Malle’s masterpiece My Dinner with Andre: a film about two men making conversation over a meal. If you haven’t seen it, which I highly recommend doing something about, the two characters are Wally, a struggling playwright, and Andre, a successful mover in avant-garde theatre who gave it up to travel the world. For the purposes of this critique, Andre represents the people behind “I gave it up” and Wally represents the masses who find themselves reading it.
I must begin, as everything seems to, with money. These stories rely on a background of money – after all, for the narrative to work there must be an “it” to give up, to free yourself from, and in our neoliberal, free market world the “it” can only be financial privilege, as well as the social status and maximalist lifestyle it entails. The individual can claim to be releasing themselves from the corporate world in a way that mimics “beginning again”, but that really couldn’t be further from it. Whether they like it or not, they’re rich. Both in the sense of having capital and in having the skills to create capital if they have to. Need to buy a state of the art, custom bike and fund yourself for the foreseeable future? No problem. Everything went wrong and you’ve lost everything? Don’t worry, you have the contacts, friends and experience to crawl back to 9-5 safety with minimum effort.
Not so for the poor. For one, the woman with no money faces a whole array of problems. Everything requires money, which means submitting to wage-slavery in order to fund whatever sum is required up front for the project. All this while avoiding the exhausting and positively labyrinthine range of challenges that come with engaging the careerist lifestyle in view of eventually leaving it. The poor also lack the taken-for-granted financial and social security of those for whom money has ceased to be such a pressing concern. They will be chastised for being irresponsible where the rich were hailed as inspiring, because without financial privilege it is “not their place” to take risks.
All this points to one thing, the “I gave it up” fantasy is only viable for the wealthy, for whom the risk is negligible and opportunities readily available. I’m not talking about the risk to any current career, which these articles often take to count as tangible risk to the self, but the much more pressing risk of personal danger, hunger and social exclusion, which the rich rarely have to consider.
In the opening monologue of My Dinner With Andre, Wally bemoans “when I was ten years old, I was rich, I was an aristocrat. Riding around in taxis, surrounded by comfort, and all I thought about was art and music. Now, I’m 36, and all I think about is money.”
The relevance of this quote, as far as I see it, is the wildly different circumstances in which the rich and the poor find themselves in regard to self-indulgent, “I gave it up”-esque fantasies. It is not only that the poor lack the practical means of following through with such an ambitious project, but the motivation and freedom of thought necessary to plan it. As Wally meets up with Andre, the two men – who used to be so similar – are diametrically opposed by their recent financial circumstance. As a wealthy, free individual, Andre is full of big ideas about the proper way to live and transcending the flawed society in which we find ourselves. His not-so-subtle jabs at Wally’s comparatively mundane life ignore the fact his thoughts can only come from a place of supreme privilege. Wally is poor, so has to do what is necessary in order to survive. His poverty has ground down the big ideas of youth to the painfully limited ones of financial anxiety – not through choice, as Andre would imply, but by necessity. In his position transcendent ramblings can have little application.
I do not mean to dismiss the choice of the Andres in this world completely. I think it is a great thing to leave the damaging corporate world behind and focus on what makes you happy, but these examples cannot be taken as rules to follow. They can only ever be exceptions, which taints whatever endearing optimism is contained in these stories with a kind of underhand narcissism, like gap-year blogs of the fortunate and few. Go chase your dreams, but be aware that most of us cannot follow.
This is a sentiment echoed in the daily life of the Guardian’s most recent subject. The small amount he requires to live is raised by his blog, sponsorship and through “selling his story” to The Guardian et al. There’s no mention of how he plans to be able to tackle significant, unforeseen financial hurdles like vet fees, but I’ve already discussed why this might be so will not parrot on further. I have read some of his blog, however, and something else becomes clear.
Funding this lifestyle through media fascination underlies the fact that what we’re looking at is a spectacle instead of an example to follow. Its continuation relies on our interest in a life we cannot lead. Were it the fact that this life were readily available and feasible to us, his funding would not exist. If anything, the presence of this media interest further distances us from viewing an alternative way of life as possible because it is made to seem like some kind of notable achievement worthy of, effectively, free money. If everyone could do it, who would care and who would give money?
This also introduces the further point that whatever idyllic picture is painted of this life always seems to dodge the realities of emails, social media management and the constant treatment of a lifestyle as an exhibit. After all, it would ruin the narrative to admit that this particular kind of escapism from corporate drudgery is one that keeps one foot in the door of marketability; that one must wake up with “how will I enjoy today?” as a second thought, where “how will I sell today?” is the first. This is a lifestyle that is not only self-defeating in its aims, but one made sustainable through the fickle interest of others – viable for just a select few people lest the interest and money is diluted, and hardly a rewarding or stable pursuit in itself.
As a result, we – as the readers – are discouraged from “giving it all up” because the model that is offered to us is, firstly, unsustainable because every successive person to mirror it reduces the revenue of those who currently do it and, secondly, self-defeating because the world of self-marketing, complete with stat-gazing and Facebook likes, is just as ghastly as the one we all want to leave. If anything, it reveals that such people have barely “given it all up” at all – they have given up their old job, sure, but the problem must have extended further or they would simply have moved jobs instead of claiming to begin again. As it is, their continued interaction with (and dependence on) a world of people trapped in what they wanted to leave behind suggests they are far from transcending it, as is implied.
Again, this isn’t so much of a problem if you have enough money already, but not all of us can be Andre.
What would be much more worthwhile is an account from one of the Wallys of this world, who somehow managed to create a rewarding, simple life for themselves within the limitations imposed on them as the non-aristocratic tier of society. The fledglings of an idea begins to make itself known in the film: “I think if you could become fully aware of what existed in the cigar store next door to this restaurant,” Wally splutters “I think it would just blow your brains out!” Paired with Andre’s insistence that we must concentrate on every moment of life as we live it, we get to a compromise between the two men that hints at making the most of all that is available to you. One that ignores the drudgery of Wally’s day-to-day without submitting to the forced fantasy and desperate fabrication of the Andres who would misrepresent the great “I gave it up” narrative in order to justify an indefinite gap year funded by media interest.
A sustainable, rewarding lifestyle is a much more personal, difficult to recognise change than these articles would suggest, and one this blog will look to explore over the coming weeks. Most importantly, the matter should not be a financial one or one that would frame freedom as a kind of holiday, because this confines it to the financially privileged or those who would rely on the charity of others. We have to start from the ground up, which means questioning how we view the world and what we want from it instead of leaping to an escape that reveals itself as another form of what we would leave behind.
As it is, the “I gave it up” series only amounts to shallow entertainment that ends up being harmful to anyone wanting to live a simple, happier lifestyle. It is interesting for the same reasons we are interested in MTV’s Cribs: the lavish presentation of a lifestyle we cannot hope to emulate; only made possible by money we do not have. As far as these articles are concerned, freedom is for them, and not for you.
In other words, they lie.
Having recently read more than a few of these gap year, true-passion, gave-it-up narratives I think your comments are extremely poignant. I plan to take a gap year myself at some point, but am fully aware I do so as a privilege of my status, career foundation and savings. Glad I found your blog, keep writing.
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Thanks Greg, I hope you enjoy the gap year. I was a bit doom and gloom here but a gap year in itself is a great thing to do if you can do it 🙂
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I always found “Gap-Year” stories very hollow and unsatisfying. I could not point out why, until I read your thoughts on the subject.
Thank you, fellow human.
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Excellent examination of the issue. It is true that some people have vacation lives and simply choose a new locale. They often cannot relate to the less fortunate because they do not believe there is an element of luck in their success. And yet they wise to dictate what the rest of us are doing wrong.
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Hello there,
I left my job as an Engineer a few years back. I ended up travelling through South East Asia, hitch-hiking and the like mostly. With my background of privilege and wonderful generousity of the people, it was easy to live spending very little money (A dollar or two a day, or less). Even with my very modest savings, it seemed plausible that I could extend my travels out virtually indefinitely. I returned home, and waxed lyrical about my experiences – how the promised land was just around the corner and all that. Unsurprisingly, for a variety of reasons, including those you’ve discussed, I didn’t get very far convincing others.
Eventually, as I used up my credit in the gift economy (Combined with beginners luck, karma etc) and the journey absolutely kicked my ass on one particularly harrowing night. It took me a while to get over that – I had a lot of growing up to do. All the same, having picked myself up, I continued on with my journey and am currently living in Thailand having carved myself out a little niche helping people who pass through. We’ll see what the future holds.
You’re right to call out the “I gave it up” narrative the Guardian presents as unrealistic for the vast majority of people. As I suspect you’re going on to talk about – I believe there’s plenty of room for “I gave it up” stories, though they’re typically less sexy than the blogging human cannonball variety. How about the person who gave up their high flying corporate job to become a kindergarten teacher? The world is filled with Yoga teachers, tiny house builders, community gardeners and countless others who’ve stepped away from the consumer lifestyle (Or in the case of many locals around these parts, never entered into it in the first place) and done well for themselves. Of course, none of these people got where they are without, firstly, a lot of hard work and sacrifice. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, their activities are firmly rooted in serving a need of their community that was going unfilled. By contrast, these Guardian types are little more than self-serving parasites feeding off the rest of us.
P.S. I don’t judge the individuals of course, I was like that myself not too long ago – we’re all on our own journey. The narrative and the exemplar being set is what is at fault here. Thanks for your work, it was a good read.
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These are all things that have been on my mind lately. I’m glad to have stumbled across this – thanks for writing
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Very good post. This is essentially the Situationist critique of the way genuine ways to live are ‘recuperated’ and sold back to us as ‘lifestyles’. Arguably, anyone really living ‘a simple life’ has been at it for decades and is not interested in publicising their attempt beyond the small circle who may naturally get to hear about it, who will doubtless regard it as eccentricity although perhaps inspiring in some way. But what is inspiring exactly? Probably a certain disdain for much of the junk that passes for ‘minimalism’ and ‘simplicity’.
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Thank you so much for this article. Have bounced around a bit on the Minimalists lately, I was left with the same impression. It’s one thing to leave a six-figure corporate job and write books and do tours “without routine”, quite another to leave your minimum wage job to pursue your ambitions. As a woman and a writer from a poor background, which is still incredibly privileged compared to some, I face Wally’s challenge every day. To take up another part time job or to spend five hours writing as I am want? What do I want more: children or financial independence?
The completely self-sustaining farm in the picturesque countryside is only nice if you can afford it.
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I’ve been travelling around the world for nearly a year and your post inspired me to write a response.
I also dropped a “my dinner with Andre” quote.
https://gnarlytravels.wordpress.com/2015/07/25/why-travel/#more-1578
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People have no idea why they do what they do. They have no idea why they don’t travel the world when it seems like an attractive life. They also don’t know whether those who rave about travel really find it so brilliant, since they probably remember times themselves when travel didn’t seem all it was cracked up to be. But people always like to look on others seemingly in better circumstances than they are. These examples serve either as inspiration or they evoke a certain amount of jealousy because these others are apparently doing what they would like to be doing but for some reason aren’t.
It is natural to dislike those who are not only doing what you want to be doing but having the gall to be enjoying it and also being ‘in your face’ about it too. But really who cares? So some people have a brilliant lifestyle travelling the world. So what? You’re just doing what you’re doing just as everyone else is doing what they are doing. You may think you’ve chosen this and need a pat on the back for making such a good choice, but no-one chooses anything. It all just happens. So it’s pointless being bothered what anyone else is doing. If they brag about it a lot they’ll probably get anally raped in Karachi and beaten to a pulp in Istanbul, and the shine may go off travel and other stay-at-home types can say ‘I knew there was something about travel I didn’t like’. So fall off a cliff or something, so couch potatoes can feel good about themselves.
As for ‘social capital’, everyone knows that other people’s travel stories are the most boring thing in the world. And when you return, in just a few days it’ll be like you never left. They say travel broadens the mind, but I think it just makes people smug.
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