Low-Tech Solutions, or, In Praise of the Scythe

[Full disclosure: I have DSL in my house. I share a laptop with my partner Sara. We share a solar and wind power system with Tamar. We have lights in our house, plus a stereo and a water pump. We own a digital camera and a photo printer, and some electric power tools. There are a few other minor devices, but those are the biggest ones for us.]

Heretical as it may sound to some in the modern world, I don't think high-tech is going to save us. I'm not the first to say it, but it seems as though this country is deaf to the idea: the root solution to global warming, peak oil and any other global environmental concern du jour will not come wrapped in neat plastic packaging or be produced in a high-tech factory. Any technological solution will fail unless we accept one basic premise: we have to learn to live with less, individually and collectively, and to live more simply in general.

I'm not suggesting we return to the Stone Age, as skeptics tend to sneer about when this topic comes up; I'm talking about reorganizing our collective lives to put more people back into agriculture, manufacturing, and other basic staples of human culture and daily existence. Instead of spending hundreds or thousands of times the energy and money to build machines to do our work for us and to transport specialized goods from far to near, I suggest we look to ourselves and our land and communities to provide for us, wherever we may live. As recently as a century ago, this kind of self-reliance was the norm almost everywhere. It keeps our wealth in all its forms all around us instead of repeatedly sending it away to enrich others.

Dancing Rabbit is partly a demonstration project; we experiment in doing things for ourselves that most in the developed world erased from their collective to-do lists decades ago. We build our own houses, often using reclaimed lumber. Our best information sources are often our neighbors. Growing food is not a hobby but an essential task of sustenance; what we do not grow ourselves we buy as much as possible from local sources, and make most of the rest from scratch from bulk organic staples. We entertain and exercise ourselves by interacting with each other, from potlucks and Ultimate frisbee to cobbing, building, singing, and no-talent shows.

My mother once repeated to me a saying she remembers from growing up during World War II: Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. With so much energy and material going to the war effort, and in a time when most consumer goods were still sourced here in the US, it wasn't just a patriotic slogan; it was necessity, reality.

Here at Dancing Rabbit, despite the presence and use of some higher technology, the sentiment in that saying holds relevance. One of the songs we sing most often when we gather before group meals is the Shaker tune “Simple Gifts” (“'Tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free...”). Much of our material sourcing amounts to waste stream diversion: the majority of the dimensional lumber used in construction here comes from deconstruction of derelict structures in the area; bricks and concrete blocks are often recovered as well; straw bales are a byproduct of local grain production; construction often makes use of clay dug out of our foundation trenches and cistern holes; most of our clothing is bought second-hand; and some very fine tool collections on farm have been built through local flea market shopping. Some of us keep an eye on the local Freecycle list.

There is still plenty of room for simplification here (especially our reliance on email for lots of communication), but we try to demonstrate a minimal dependence on things like the public water supply and grid power, with their attendant energy costs. Forty-five of us share three vehicles, and many of us rely on bicycles for basic transit and hauling. Some of our common snack foods are wild berries, tree fruits, popcorn, and homemade granola with milk from the dairy a mile away or yogurt made from it (or the soy versions if you prefer). When you need some poison ivy removed, you ask the people who aren't badly allergic to participate in a few work parties to rip it out. When you need to put up your roof trusses, or move your new cistern from a delivery truck to your construction site, or stomp up a mess of plaster to plaster your kitchen, you call out a handful of people to help. Ye Aulde Barn Raisin' Society ('yabbers') can take all these forms here: cooperative labor helps everyone who asks for it.

So what does all this self-help count for? There is an empowerment in what we do: we support each other in meeting our collective needs, and we demonstrate another form of sustainability, both of which contribute to Dancing Rabbit's mission. Intentional culture values the collective good of both people and planet. Our efforts also show that if you have enough people working together, you can often substitute human power for petro-power. In the process we incidentally save ourselves a lot of money and the earth some of its finite resources while keeping our bodies fit. Our bodies run more on current sun power; most machinery runs directly or indirectly on ancient, non-renewable sun power in the form of various fossil fuels.

What it comes down to is this: high-tech isn't always the best option, and some solutions cannot be bought. In an uncertain world, the simpler the technology you rely on, the more readily you can fix it yourself or find an alternative when the mass market option is more than you need or when the mass market ceases to exist. Your own labor and expertise (or willingness to experiment and learn) cost you only the value of whatever else you could do with your time. When we also value the pleasure and satisfaction of self-reliance, the DIY (where 'yourself' includes your friends and neighbors) equation looks ever more attractive. Instead of working for more money to afford to pay someone to build or create something for you, do it yourself. Lack some essential skill? Find a friend who's willing to show you the basics, perhaps in exchange for some skill you possess, and then take it from there. Want something you can't find for sale? Try making it yourself! Need to build something that requires mechanical assistance? Simplify the plans so you can do it with people power.

As an example of “good” technology, I offer the scythe: no moving parts, except as impelled by human power; durable, maintainable; elegant and highly functional; quiet; consumes no fuel and belches no fumes; built on centuries of experience and refinement. In the past five years Dancing Rabbit and our neighbors at Red Earth Farms have accounted for the purchase of at least 15 scythes, mostly European straight snaths (instead of the S-curved American version, which is less ergonomic). With a 1950's-era John Deere tractor on hand that often won't run anymore, scythes have become essential land maintenance tools in our grassland home. Even that aged tractor represents orders of magnitude more embodied energy and complexity than a whole herd of scythes. Should the petroleum-fueled economy of the past century continue to break down, we can keep the scythes running; the tractor will be hastened to its destiny as yard-art, or, more likely, melted down to become a multitude of new scythe blades and other simpler, more essential items.

Here's to the future of low-tech! May our scythes and their sibling tools help mark the path to a more sustainable hereafter.

March Hare Summer/Fall 2008 Issue 57

The Road Home		It’s a Foundation!
Low-Tech Solutions		Urine Composting
The Life of Brian		Representing Water
Popcorn, My Love

Come see our past issues for lots of Dancing Rabbit information.