I’ve written briefly, or maybe not so briefly (and things are about to get significantly less brief), of my love of the modern ruins of the Romania/Bulgaria. The more I see of these structures, the more I like them. The factories with no remaining windows, signs faded but still towering above the building face. The foundry (or somesuch, it was far away) at the foot of a mounting, nothing left but the five story concrete skeleton of a building and nearly unidentifiable stretches of steel equipment. The countless hangers by the railyard, gutted of everything and slowly rusting to nothing. The crumbling red brick chimneys, and their stoic, improbably tall concrete brethren, emerging from piles of rubble. It’s stark, and it showcases such a waste of effort that all of these things were painstakingly built and are now left to fade slowly into nothing, but they are so beautiful. I may be reading too much into it, but I think part of the appeal is the same as that feeling of seeing, as we did yesterday, two men waking down the hillside carrying bundles of sticks, or the glimpse of a shepherd and his flock walking through the forest. These are windows back into a simpler time, and I think the feeling of attraction to this sort of lifestyle is common in the more developed world, or at least among people I’ve talked to about it. There are probably lots of reasons for this, but two shine brightest for me – first, it’s simple. Ours is a time and generation faced with nearly limitless choice. We’ve been told since forever that we can do Anything, go Anywhere, be Anyone. There are so many opportunities, which is wonderful, but every path taken is two untaken, and given all our advantages, and the incredible knowledge of the scale of those advantages that modern communication affords us, we know we Should be happy.

This, I think, can be overwhelming. And to see the simple life, to imagine knowing each day what you should do, indeed what  you have to do if you want to be warm and have food, is so different from the life that most people live. The pressure of long days of physical is so much more straightforward than the pressure of finding happiness among the millions twisting paths that could be a life in today’s world. This is part of the appeal, I think. These structures are a visual turning-away from modern society, they’re specialization’s end, swallowed by the forest and the traditional farms.

But beyond that, and this is much less a generational thing, I think modern society fundamentally fails to make people feel fulfilled and happy in their role. There is happiness in your friends and family, and there is pleasure in the fantastic escapism that is the entertainment industry, but I think many people are left wanting more, without knowing exactly why. With some big exceptions (doctors and what have you) the super-specialized knowledge economy abstracts our work so incredibly far from the essentials of life that it can be hard to see the fundamental value. And while there’s pleasure in being good at a thing regardless of what the thing is, this is different from doing a thing that is demonstrably good at a basic level. I think this lack effects people.

And it’s not just that. Besides work, we’ve (largely) lost religion, and all the certainty of action and greater purpose that it provides. Spirituality is a fuzzy term which I hesitate to use, but I think people need to feel a purpose, and without religion, modern society can’t really fill that hole.

I have a pet theory that this is a big part of the current appeal of zombie mythology and the whole world of the post-apocalyptic. Sure, it’s fun and lighthearted to make silly plans for the coming of the zombies, to think about what you might do and what you know that might be useful. But underneath this there’s something more. These scenarios have a real pull, and I think it’s because people feel a real lack in modern life. As much as we all know rationally that any such thing would be almost constant suffering, truly terrible, this fantasy continues to entertain. Picture yourself and your loved ones, together in whatever place is most appropriate – the roof of a highrise, your living room huddled around a tv, in a tent with a generator and a radio in the woods – wherever you are, you’re together and safe, and all there is to do for the moment is sit back and watch the world burn.

The end of civilization as we know it. This should be the worst thing that could happen to humanity. And yet… and yet.

Maybe they’re really just pretty, and all of this is making mountains of molehills… but the rusted steel and filthy brick is so far from any classic idea of beauty that it feels like there’s more going on.