Decoding Tomorrow:
Futurism and Foresights Today

Burning Man and Analogue Escapism: reconnecting by disconnecting

The Nevada desert dust is kicking up a desert storm. It's dusk. I have been driving for 10 hours and I am 511 miles north of Las Vegas. No GPS signal. Off road. I am in the middle of nowhere. I am greeted by signs encouraging 'radical self-expression', 'leave no trace', and 'don't be an observer, be a participant'. I am in a Ford recreational vehicle, and like 56,149 other people I have made the pilgrimage to Burning Man at Black Rock City, Nevada.

The mutant art cars, RVs, and SUVs in front of me are driving at 5 miles an hour, yet their tires are disturbing the Playa's finely cut sands, and the winds pick up the fine grains and cover everything in sight in a  grey mist. I am greeted by Burner officials in seriously weird outfits. Cyber bunnies. Dreadlocks. Magic wands. This is Mad Max meets Woodstock meets TED. In August of 2012. Fur, neon, leather, bandanas, and Oakley goggles - and gas masks. For the dust. The theme - Fertility 2.0. Strange, yes. Wonderful, kind of. Connected, absolutely. 

Connected, not in the technological sense, but more in the human sense. You know the type that your strange Californian aunt will speak of, the one your cousin told tales of from an Indian ashram, or the one your astral friend from Byron Bay, Australia, will fondly romanticise about. Batique, flower power, polyamorism, expression, incense, yogis, that kind of thing. For those of you who are not familiar with Burning Man, let me bring you up to speed. Each year an increasing number of Burners descend on Black Rock City, Nevada, a town that only exists for one week a year. The location is a vast dry lake bed wedged between two imposing mountain ranges.

Each year Burners from around the globe pilgrimage here in an expression of community, artwork, absurdity, decommodification and revelry. The city's street and block infrastructure is a half moon shape, with concentric circles forming avenues with names like Alyssum, Begonia, Dandelion, Hyacinth extending in alphabetical order from the main drag - the Esplanade. The streets are named after the 12 hours of the day, and oriented and aligned similar to a sun dial, and the city is accordingly arranged to align with solar angles. Very hippie, I know. Upon arrival, I am told that my camp, Palace of Balunsia, is located in the right fallopian tube at 4:15. The city of Black Rock, once conceived of on a beach by 20 burners setting an effigy alight, has now become an annual Mekka for people wanting a week's escape from digital connectivity, the rat race, commercialism, social norms, and traditional structures, and seeking to reconnect with themselves and others in an alternate dimension. Human connectivity, no broadband required. 

I think I am prepared for this. I have decided to do Burning Man in style. My Apollo rental RV is decked out with airconditioning, shower, water closet, fridge, a double bed, DVD player, and a TV - just in case. On my last city visit in Reno, 3 hours from the gates of Black Rock City, I stocked up on gourmet food, microbrewery beers, and supplies at Wholefoods for my 5 days in the Playa. Some Burners look at RVs in disgust from the safety of their hardcore tents, but for me, I'll claim the RV is part of my radical self-expression and certainly an expression of my desire for some level of comfort. I head in the direction of 'the right fallopian tube' and arrive as one of only 2 RVs in camp Palace of Balunsia, "an ever-shifting Beduin nation far far away, who hold strong the notion of perfect unbalance".

Balunsia is a place for "kings and sultans, gnomes and fairies, musicians and philosophers, historical figures and sparkle ponies, fireflies, butterflies & all the creatures of the sea". I wonder whether I as a futurist and innovation strategist will fit the bill.

Last time I checked I was not a sparkle pony.

Therese, my first ever girlfriend from Sweden who is also a "Balunsian", and her tent friends Scott and Emma, had encouraged me to pick out some weird gear in Reno to wear - and to err on the side of the absurd. I come ready with a big furry top hat, long leather jacket, neon buttons, green leggings, cyber sailor gear, silver wrap-around sun googles, and glow sticks. The beach cruiser bike in turqoise from the Vegas Walmart is in the back. By Anders' standards this would be the weirdest I have ever looked. No cell reception. No wifi. No way back.

This is my creative break in 2012.

A way of escaping the fast pace of everyday life. A way of seeing something totally different from board rooms, hotel suites, tailored suits, strategy maps, and airport lounges.

Totally outside of my regular comfort zones. I have no idea of what to expect.

I have been told the principles in the cashless economy of Burning Man are: radical inclusion, gifting, decommodification, radical self-reliance, radical self-expression, communal efforts, civic responsibility, leaving no trace, participation, and immediacy.

And that nudity is common, but not required.

In other words, Burning Man is creative escapism. And that's totally ok. I am here to reconnect by disconnecting. I arrive at the camp site, walk to the main tent, past the grey water evaporation site, and the camp's kitchen. I see Therese and Emma in their neon wasp outfits, and strange head gear. I have arrived, and I am ready to radically self express. Let Burning Man begin. 

Burning Man is a reminder for me that the more some things change for real, the more other things stay exactly the same.

The more teched-up, tuned in, and mobile enabled we become, the more we crave to escape this digital speed. The more our blackberry connects us technologically to the rest of the world, and particularly to work, the more we seek to escape its pinging, reminders and vibrations. Our tech devices tend to wind us up, while we seek to wind down. We crave the stimulus of knowing how many likes our recent holiday post got us on Facebook, whether our latest Tweet garnered viral reception, and whether our Klout score improved overnight. Digital distress. 

Digilogue Balance

Ironically, we crave the human connection of a digital Christmas SMS, yet sometimes forget about the analogue people we actually spend Christmas with. While technology has fundamentally shifted our behaviours, and enabled us to text or tweet someone, while sitting next to that someone, we are also becoming push notification stimulus addicts. Simultaneously, we derive increasing value from analogue escapist experiences like Burning Man, Yoga, meditation, holidays, religious groups, slow cooking, farmers markets, and yes - cross-generational family time. The more technology changes our communication patterns and our attention spans, the more other things stay exactly the same - our need for touch, for timeless patience, for community, and for meaning. As human beings we are constantly balancing the fast and convenient of the digital world, with the deep and meaningful of the analogue world.

Let us canvass our digital connectedness.

• In the UK, Britons spend 128 minutes a day on their smart phones.
• Mobile internet traffic increased 100% between Q3 2011 and Q3 2012.
• Mobile internet traffic is projected to increase 40 times by 2016.
• Swedes looked at their smart phones on average 150 times a day in 2011.

But let us balance this by canvassing analogue escapism:

• Between 2000 and 2011, the total US private job market shrunk by -1.5%, while the American Salon and Spa job market grew by 18.3%.
• Over a decade, the number of US spa locations has grown from 4,140 in 1999 to 19,900 in 2010, with industry revenue growth from $5 billion in 1999 to $12.8 billion in 2010.
• In 2008, the 6.8% of Americans who practice Yoga spent $5.7 billion on yoga classes and products, including equipment, clothing, vacations and media. This figure represents an increase of 87% compared to the previous study in 2004.
• US mega churches (Protestant congregations that draw 2,000 or more adults and children in a typical weekend) continued to increase in the number of people they drew between 2000 and 2008. Their average rate of growth for 5 years is around a 50% increase in attendance.
• Between 2002 and 2007, the number of American farms increased by 76,000, compared to a decline of 87,000 in the five years before that. But half of all farms in the U.S. have sales of less than $5,000, which means many farms exist for non-financial, hobby-based, reasons.
• National Farmers Markets Listings in the US increased from 2863 in 2000 to 7864 in 2012.
• Slow Food is a grassroots, international non-for-profit organisations that  has over 100,000 members in 1,500 convivia - local chapters - worldwide, as well as a network of 2,000 food communities who practice small-scale and sustainable production of quality slow foods in a reaction against Fast Food.
• Americans spent $11 billion in 2008 on self-improvement books, CDs, seminars, coaching and stress-management programs - 13.6% more than they did back in 2005. Latest forecast: 6.2% annual growth through 2012.
• Americans spend nearly as much on snow sports ($53 billion) as they do on internet access ($54 billion).
• Americans spend more on bicycling gear and trips ($81 billion) than they do on airplane tickets and fees ($51 billion).
• The outdoor recreation economy grew approximately 5 percent annually between 2005 and 2011 - this during an economic recession when many sectors contracted.

These statistics indicates that we are more Zen than we give ourselves credit for.

I know, we are getting a bit Ying and Yang on you here. For everything there is a counter-balance. Good and Evil. Luke and Anakin Skywalker. All of that. Digital balanced by the analogue. Hearts and Minds. The rational v the emotional. Urban v rural. Global v local. iPod touch v haptic touch. If the digital lets us escape to anywhere, anytime at a time when even instant gratification is too slow, the analogue lets us escape to the nostalgic, the old school, the natural, and the slow. It helps us rewind, recharge and reconnect with ourselves, while disconnecting from the digital world. Critical. 

Burning Man, here we go...

What do you think?

*This is an excerpt from futurist Anders Sorman-Nilsson's upcoming book: Digilogue: the convergence of the digital and the analogue (Wiley & Co. 2013).