“We meet people who have crossed deserts, floated on icecaps and cut their way through jungles – and yet in whose souls we would search in vain for evidence of what they have witnessed.” Alain de Botton, The Art of Travel
Why do we travel? Could we be as happy and fulfilled if we were to travel less? It is interesting to consider these questions in their own right; and it is imperative to do so for the sake of the environment.
In a world of specialisation, few ‘experts’ are willing to tackle such broad questions. Politicians, economists, business analysts, sociologists, and psychologists may tackle aspects ranging from the impact on national GDP to company sales to individual well-being; but it is unusual for anyone to attempt holistic answers. For instance, the business analyst leaves the assessment of personal motivations to the psychologist, who in turn leaves analysis of the impact on national growth to the economist. But specialisation has its drawbacks given the severity of global climate change: holistic answers need to be attempted. Matters are urgent; and time is short.
Commercial rationale
An oft-repeated argument in the world of business is that in order to do business it is necessary to meet people in the flesh. Despite significant improvements in communication technology over the last decade, you cannot really get to know them, the argument goes, unless you have a face-to-face encounter. And anyway, it’s a natural human thing to do – shows interest and a caring touch, crucial to winning work.
Know them? This is a widespread delusion in the corporate world. Having lunch with someone and talking shop does not translate into getting to know him or her very well. Working relationships are largely quite superficial at a personal level, existing as they do within the narrow context of a particular workplace endeavour. In Great Expectations, the novelist Charles Dickens described a relevant archetype in the character of Wemmick: a cold and austere lawyer by day, with a trap-door mouth that allows no entry or exit of emotion or caring; and by night a warm and generous family man, tenderly loving towards his old father back in his ‘castle’. Many are we who have something of Wemmick about us.
But even if we accept for the sake of argument that we may not get to know our business partners deeply, isn’t it still true that a physical meeting is necessary to strike up a working relationship? What of those non-verbal clues, so rich and varied in comparison with the mere words in a conversation, and hence so crucial to a successful transaction? Surely it is necessary to meet in person to pick up those clues?
This used to be a strong argument, but such has been the advance of technology that modern video-conferencing can capture most non-verbal information – the aural clues, such as tone of voice, pattern of breathing, tapping of hands and feet, and the visual clues, such as furrowing of brow, impatient fidgeting, eye movements – as faithfully as (or rather, more faithfully than) human ears and eyes. Admittedly, there may be some sensory data – the smell of sweat, the temperature of the room, the touch of someone’s palm – that is not relayed in a video-conference, but are these remaining clues so important that it is really necessary to travel hundreds or even thousands of miles to collect them? Even when there is an evening’s entertainment with the host (often dispensed with in the current time-pressured world), it is hard to see how a trip abroad is essential to gain insights not obtainable by electronic means.
De facto, more and more business is agreed without physical meetings – and this in spite of a continuing international reluctance to include the environmental cost of travel in the price of a flight. In our company, most sales are now agreed electronically, and the trend is growing. The biggest deals still involve jetting about, but this seems to have more to do with culture and precedent than with necessity.
Personal rationale
I was brought up by parents who believed strongly in the cultural and moral benefits of international travel. Trips from a young age to see Aztec ruins in Mexico, the Parthenon in Athens, European cathedrals, and a few months’ attendance at a Benedictine monastery school in Trinidad, were expected to broaden my outlook, and to make me a better person.
Judging by the trips planned each year by schools in Reading, this viewpoint is widely and enthusiastically shared today by the educational mainstream. Trips are planned to Africa, Asia and South America – often involving some social contribution to be made by the school children, one which (inevitably) does not require a particular skill. A trip to paint public buildings in a town in a relatively deprived part of England is arguably just as socially useful as a trans-oceanic pilgramage to paint them in Lima, but does not make it on to the curriculum.
Given that I grew up in Ontario in the 1970s, my parents were probably correct in their judgement. Britain in 2016 is somewhat different: there is the internet, world news readily available on our mobile phones, cosmopolitan culture in Reading let alone in London. And given this social diversity and ubiquity of global communications, the prevailing attitude of schools appears to be anachronistic. It is unnecessary to travel great distances in today’s world to learn how people really live in countries far away. The correlation between those who have travelled extensively on holiday, and those who show the greatest sympathy towards and understanding of the plight of people in developing countries, appears to be weak at best.
At the very least, schools which make a claim to be doing something socially useful by transporting unskilled adolescents across an ocean to paint buildings should at the same time teach those adolescents about the environmental impact of the trip. The latter is less open to dispute than the justification put forward.
So why travel?
If travel is no longer essential to broaden our horizons, perhaps it nevertheless fulfills our need for adventure and romance. Unfortunately, flying is anything but romantic: being processed in a sitting position across unseen continents has some similarity with a previous century’s transportation of convicts in ships in terms of passivity and obliviousness to the journey itself. If romance and adventure are sought, then a trip across a country on a bicycle, staying with local people en route, would seem to be more appropriate.
Other merits of travel? The opportunity to speak another language? Europe can be reached on Eurostar. The chance to do something bold, and a little challenging, as a means to develop one’s character? White water rafting in Wales is nearby. Experiencing different cuisine? London has it all.
There are, indisputably, benefits to travel (not to mention a basic appeal, even if it is exaggerated by our culture) but these benefits are much less significant than they used to be. And the problems – the environmental damage, the spread of pests and disease – have become much more prominent. Quite simply, if the prevailing view of the world’s climate scientists is to be believed, we cannot as a species all engage in intercontinental travel unless we develop solar-powered or battery-powered planes. There is no sign of that (and it is debatable whether it is even physically possible): meanwhile, isn’t the socially responsible approach to reduce our travel until such time as there is?
To a large extent, we travel because we are restless. Some people (a fairly small proportion it would seem) are also curious. So if we travel less, we need to find alternatives to sublimate our restlessness and our curiosity.
We are easily bored. Travel holds the allure of a change in climate and scenery, an escape from the tedious daily routine, a reprieve (in some instances) from an onerous sense of responsibility or guilt. The trouble is this can be self-reinforcing: the more we travel, the more easily bored we get at home, and the more we want to travel.
Noticing afresh
Instead of seeking a refuge from the daily grind through foreign travel, it might be more productive to see how we can re-invigorate our normal life and relationships. Can we learn to re-read old books, re-learn old lessons and songs, see our homes and friends and loved ones with fresh eyes and new actions? Samuel Johnson thought that most people are in greater need of being reminded of what they already know than trying to learn ‘new’ things. Friedrich Nietzche was an admirer of the Xavier de Maitre, an eccentric Frenchman who once described his ‘holiday’ spent touring his bedroom, re-discovering the furniture: he was, wrote Nietzche admiringly, a man who could gain much from little, unlike so many of us who gain little from much.
It does not pay to overload. We can live much richer lives if they are not too rich. In the view of Albert Einstein, the best thinking can be done only when we empty our minds of unnecessary clutter. Charles Dickens had a related thought with his character M’Choakumchild in Hard Times: “if only he had learnt a little less, how infinitely better he might have taught much more”. We appreciate possessions all the more if they are not too extensive or lavish. We appreciate a special foreign trip all the more if it really is special – to be savoured, reflected upon, discussed with friends long afterwards – not just another name to be ticked off an extensive list of places to visit.
As I write, David Attenborough’s latest series of Planet Earth is showing on television. It reminds me of a conversation with a barber recently: Attenborough was his hero, he said, and he wanted to travel to all the world’s wild places as a result. Surely the beauty of programmes like Planet Earth is that we can have access to the world’s beauty without destroying it by rushing to experience it all first hand for ourselves.
Importance of being active
But even if we are persuadable that widespread travel is not essential to improve our stature as human beings, how can we overcome the yearning? On the premise that this yearning often arises from dissatisfaction, or at least temporary boredom with our normal life, how do we re-discover a zest for it?
Part of the answer lies in being active, or as active as we can be. There is a paradox in that physical inertia increases the desire to travel. Being outside and taking exercise, whether able-bodied or handicapped, and whether it be walks, sports, gardening, DIY, or just moving about and breathing fresh air, makes us not only healthier but also less restless.
It is not just physical exercise that is necessary. All of us need to use our minds – to stretch them by doing things that are difficult for us – either at work or at home if the former is too easy. And it is not just our bodies and minds, but how we handle our feelings also, and the way we interact with other people. Everything about us is muscular and needs proper exercise for our well-being and that of those around us. Unfortunately, we are naturally lazy, so all of this takes effort. But we can help each other – and in doing so, reduce our restlessness, increase our happiness, reduce our wanderlust.
How can we re-notice things we are no longer seeing? I do not know the answer, but the habit of reflection and a change of attitude towards repetition would seem to be crucial. Alas our culture and our education system treat repetition with a degree of contempt. Re-reading a book, for instance, is largely seen as a waste of time … but why? Most of us retain a tiny fraction of what we read, and notice only a small proportion of the beauty in a work of art, at the first attempt. A difficult idea cannot be assimilated quickly. Repeating an endeavour – be it physical, mental or emotional – does not mean simply going over old ground; it means discovering aspects that passed us by initially, and thereby increasing both our understanding and our appreciation. Like M’Choakumchild, if we try to take in a little less (be it consumables, facts, or foreign holidays), how infinitely better we may appreciate so much more.