My father, as an artist and media man, used to like to come into the City to take pictures of people’s faces. I haven't seen him come in much anymore. Everyone is looking down at their phones.
This raises an essential point: the loss of random encounters that are the basis of being what the French call a flâneur.
What is a flâneur and where did this kind of person come from? It simply means a wanderer. When the term flâneur was coined by Charles Baudelaire in the 19th century, it was done so in direct opposition to capitalism’s encroachment on humanity’s spare time and space.
Human identity has always been intertwined with flâneurism. We were born wanderers. Our prehistorical predecessors covered dozens of miles a day, sometimes in search of game. Sometimes looking for a warm place to sleep. But often times just simply to move across the territory and observe. To be in consistent motion, head up, eyes and ears attuned to serendipity, was and should be, our natural state of being.
To wander aimlessly, to stumble upon random encounters, to improvise upon those encounters is the real stuff of life; properly executed, a flâneur’s days should be lived as notes are played in a jazz ensemble. But today, capitalism is seizing our space, it began stealing our time. The rise of the factory pulled labor from more whimsical, artisan pursuits and institutionalized the working day. It does not tolerate “free” time and space.
And, so, at last, we have the smart phone – a device that forces us to look down and ignore changes in light. We have the airpods, a blindfold for the ears which encourages us to disregard the whispers of the planet. And of couse, we have 'Waze and Google Maps' which conspire to take our time and space at the same time.
No longer does one simply roll the dice and go. Instead, one chooses a destination and walks toward it. Along the way, the route is commodified. Restaurants suggested instead of found. Parks are digitally delineated instead of outlined by the contours of our promenades.
Taking up Philosophy and being in the Seminary for almost a decade has taught me that we sometimes, we need to walk. But more importantly, we need to wander. To wander without intent, without surveillance, without the anticipation of acquisition and without any expectation that the walk might benefit anything else than our own freedom of spirit.