Being human together

Reflections on our Doomer Optimism Gathering

Last weekend Brandon Daily and I—with our friend Ashley Fitzgerald of Doomer Optimism—hosted a gathering in Ligonier, PA. It was a two day event that featured keynote addresses, panel discussions, and lots of convivial fellowship including drinking, singing, poetry reading, and feasting. We were blessed to have lots of very, very good writers join us including Ruth Gaskovski, Peco, Oliver Bateman Does the Work, Autonomous Truck(er)s, Suzy Weiss, Dominick Baruffi, Tessa Carman, Joe Allen, Farahn Morgan and James K. Hanna.¹

Brandon Daily and I have been to several Doomer Optimism events in the past, and they are always deeply refreshing for our souls. These events are for “people who realize there are lots of challenges ahead but try to find movement for positive solutions despite it all.” We want lots more people to be connected to the Doomer Optimism network and come to the events.

To that end, we asked a few of the attendees tell a bit about their experiences at the gathering. Hope you enjoy these and they convince you to come to future event. We have already had a few folks write their reflections for the own Substacks here , here, here, here, here, here, and here. We start with Brandon Daily’s reflections on the importance of Doomer Optimism events more generally.

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Brandon Daily of The Savage Collective:

In his seminal work Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville makes this observation of the American people:

“Wherever, at the head of some new undertaking, you see the government in France, or a man of rank in England, in the United States you will be sure to find an association.”

We proved Tocqueville right this past weekend in Ligonier, PA—in the foothills of Appalachia.

Fifty or so of us gathered together around lectures and discussions, food and drink as a continuation of the Doomer Optimism gatherings around the country hosted by Ashley Fitzgerald. I have been privileged enough to attend two— in the Catskills of NY and in the vast expanse of Wyoming. These get-togethers draw the most curious mix of people: the old and the young, the environmental Right and the old Left, skilled tradesmen and tech pioneers, those that lean a little more doomer and those that lean a little more optimist.But if Doomer Optimism (DO) is our association, what exactly is our undertaking?

While we heard many different presentations this past weekend—from stories of a Pittsburgh nun and a lifelong coal miner, to human health and fertility, to the hot topics of AI and transhumanism—one question we all seemed to be asking, and were united over, was this: What does human flourishing look like in this modern age? Or alternatively : What is the “good life” and how do we live it?

This is not a new question. Every age has asked it. And while this has led many of us to philosophy or to religion or to the ancient texts and creeds, it has also led us to one another.

So, we gather together for two days and we drink coffee together and split up for lunch. We host potluck dinners and fill tables with more food than we can finish. We get cheery on beer and wine. We share poetry and songs, sing to someone playing guitar or hymns a cappella. We trade all-important information so we can stay in touch, and we all head out when it is over, taking something a little extra with us as we return home to our individual places and lives.

Did we solve all the puzzles and riddles over two days? No. But perhaps the good life cannot be answered so succinctly as a quadratic equation. Perhaps it is answered through the very medium of our lives—how we spend each of our days; the things we pay attention to. And perhaps it really is the friends we made along the way.

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Peco Gaskovski & Ruth Gaskovski, authors of School of the Unconformed and Pilgrims in the Machine.

You can tell an experience is powerful by what stays with you after it’s over. This is how we felt about the Doomer Optimism gathering in Ligonier where we delivered a keynote speech. There were stimulating lectures and panel discussions on how to stay human in the machine age, ranging from Appalachian folklore and home economics to trades and transhumanism; and there was food, conversation, laughter, families, toddling babies and scampering children, high-brow debates and comic debates, spontaneous barn-dances, all in a cozy meetinghouse amid the sun-burnished hills of the rust belt. It was wonderful. But what we most appreciated were the real-world connections that we made with other people, and the energy and hope we took away when we left.

As Substackers with a digital presence, we were especially moved by the people who made their way from far-flung places (one couple even flying in from California!) to connect in person. This was more meaningful than tens of thousands of “followers” or “likes”. The gathering affirmed to us that it’s when ideas are incarnated that they reveal whether they hold mere vibes or true value.

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Maia Gaskovski, student at University of Waterloo:

Although I live across from rolling bucolic fields speckled with 19th-century farmhouses where I often hear the amiable clatter of a Mennonite’s horse-drawn carriage trundling down our concession road, a false reality remains is ever-present. I attend a secular university, a ten-minute drive from my home, where I am enveloped by the world’s temporal arms every morning of the week.

Over the course of our weekend in Ligonier, I was struck by the sincere conviction of everyone with whom I interacted. The speaker panels were less like the monotone college lectures I expected, and more like a fierce assortment of modern-day Avengers striving to reclaim our sacred “humanness.”

As I scribbled notes on topics ranging from AI, home economics, transhumanism, and heritage, I was struck by the contrast to my usual environment. The impression I tend to get from peers is one of indifference and general apathy towards events that occur beyond a device or their personal past twenty-four hours. I wondered how they would respond to the ideas that proliferated in the conference hall on the hill that weekend. Would they care? Or would they even have the capacity to listen when the attention norm is the twenty seconds an Instagram reel provides us? Yet, perhaps that disposition is not born from inherent disengagement, but from the absence of experiencing truth.

Here is what you might experience if you came with me to Ligonier. As you approach the building in the early morning sun, you encounter an animated discussion between attendees that takes place on the gravel porch. Tiny, bright-eyed children chase each other through imaginary labyrinths, dodging couples deep in conversation, undeniably soaking in the atmosphere of genuine discourse and beauty. I heard so many stories, including where they traveled from, what inspired her to pursue studies in Old English, how he wanted to solve the world’s biggest problems, how she makes beef tallow for her two-year-old, and how this couple got married two weeks ago after meeting on a cruise.

People always talk about the venerated art of “community building,” but we inadvertently founded a village. The oldest attendee was in his seventies, while the youngest was a mere six months. All of the young girls became “mothers” over the gallivanting children, while the young men became their “fathers.” The wise became “grandmothers” and “grandfathers” for those who looked for guidance. All of us became a family as we sought out our mutual desire for beauty, truth, and most of all reality. Our nights were saturated by folk music, spirited mini-debates, stomach laughter, and traditional dancing.

I remember one moment on our final night, adopting the role of an observer as I sat with a baby on my lap. A voice in my mind urgently reminded me, “You need to take a photo! Don’t you want to show everyone when you get back home?” I was struck by the thought that maybe I needed proof that these days of fellowship truly transpired. I worried I would fail to convey their impact without doing so.

Luckily, I remembered that those thoughts were lies.

You don’t need documentation to retain memories. In fact, they’re more stunning when they become embellished with snapshots of mental images of how the light fell and fleeting bits of conversation instead of a 30 MB video you get to dissect at the end of the day.

If I could, I’d bring all my classmates in Psych 320 to taste the reality of those fall Pennsylvania afternoons and be just as ignited as I was. Alas, I have nothing but my words to describe our time. If someone asks for pictures, there will be nothing to say but, “Well, you just had to be there.”

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Shannon Hinkey, a member of the Bruderhof Community and an Editor at Plough Magazine

In an old barn-turned-community center, my husband and I became acquainted with a whole new community of people we didn’t know we needed. How uplifting, affirming, challenging to meet complete strangers asking the same questions, seeking on the same issues, trying to take the same gospel-centered action in their lives as we are trying to take in ours. We spent the entire 6-hour drive home just unpacking it all.

Exploring the breadth and scope of the techno agenda that is being insidiously imposed on all of us was sobering. Yet, no one gave in to nihilism. Here was the energy of people who know that in reality, the war is already won. The future is brighter for all the new resources, examples and connections we can now draw on, going forward. This is the kind of experience that confirms your bravest intuitions: that their really has been no more exciting time to be alive; that we were made to live a witness to the world here and now; that we were born neither too soon nor too late. While we feel small in the shadow of the Machine, now is our moment to mount a bold, countercultural resistance to the unfolding techno age. I’m all in.

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Meredith Thornburgh, PhD student in History at Princeton:

What a joy it was to spend some time with such wonderful, inquisitive people at the recent Doomer Optimism Gathering hosted by the The Savage Collective. I am an academic, so I am privileged to discuss ideas for a living but not accustomed to such discussions feeling so instantly familial and warm (while still maintaining a high degree of intellectual seriousness). This was so much the case that the transition from organized panels to a potluck-style dinner felt only right: two other attendees and I seamlessly continued the conversation from the previous session as we worked side by side to set up 40 taper candles for dinner, while others busied themselves in the kitchen or at the grill. As a mother, it was also a delight to see young children, toddlers, and babies there—my family couldn’t attend with me due to some unexpected medical issues, but to have the future present with us in such an embodied way as we discussed our society’s past and prognosis was lovely and inspiring.

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Anonymous PhD Student in Psychology²:

My first Doomer Optimism gathering was encouraging and imagination-expanding. It can hard in my daily context to live within my good, human limits and to reject (or even recognize) technologies that make me less of myself, and it is nearly impossible to swim upstream alone. At this gathering, I met folks who are also seeking to resist cultural forces that tempt us toward self-determination for its own sake. They shared with me wisdom they’ve gained through study and experience.

The transhumanism panel, in particular, continues to resonate with me. The speakers challenged “soft transhumanist” ideas that take a purely utilitarian approach to determining whether technology is good (i.e., does it serve me? Do I like it?). Instead we asked: on what basis should we adopt one technology and reject another? How can we tell if a technology is degrading us in accordance with our wayward desires or simply restoring us in accordance with our nature? What is human nature, anyway? How do we know? The atmosphere in the room allowed for amicable disagreement. I experienced the freedom to disagree as refreshing, unusual.

While the adults discussed the perils of transhumanist technologies, the kids plucked shafts of wheat twice their height in the yard and waved them around like swords. Children were welcome at this gathering, because parents were welcome, and families are good. I’ve recently become interested in the question of what truly pro-family intellectual spaces could look like, because I perceive a tension between the facts that 1) certain activities and topics are truly best-suited for adults only, and 2) many adults have children (this is good!), and children depend on their parents and are relatively adaptable. When I attend academic conferences, children are nowhere to be seen. The structure of our recent gathering suggested that a strict separation of adults and their children in intellectual spaces is not always necessary. As I observed the dance of co-parents taking turns to soothe and supervise the children that weaved in and out of our space, I felt affirmed in my hope to someday cultivate an intellectual life with littles in tow, and I suspected that those children were themselves a result and a source of our collective (doomer) optimism.

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Tom Ianova is an entrepreneur, operator, and venture investor.

Last weekend I experienced the joy of meeting old friends for the first time at the Doomer Optimism/Savage Collective Gathering in Ligonier Pennsylvania. Ashley of Doomer Optimism and Grant of the Savage Collective created a container for camaraderie and conversation in a barn nestled in the hills of the Laurel Highlands. All of the conversations revolved around practical means of resisting the dehumanizing effects of technological, economic, cultural and political blobification arising from neoliberal hegemony. Speakers introduced topics ranging from transhumanism, to the decline of the trades, to digital detoxification, to how proximity improves justice in Appalachia. In the midst of the heady conversation, the room was always full of laughter as the children of families were playing underfoot. Participants came together to share meals in a common potluck and the evenings were capped off with mini-debates, sing-alongs, and dancing. It was an eclectic lot with almost nothing in common but openhearted concern, curiosity and a commitment to intentional living for the common good.

1. Special thanks to the Loyalhanna Watershed Association who let us use their educational center—a finished barn— free of charge.

2. This PhD student is appealing to rights under Chatham House rules to remain anonymous. Good idea —she already knows that academics can be conformist and vindictive.