The Human Resistance Manifesto

Beyond the Digital Servile State

Grub Street In Exile

Jun 23, 2025

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Preamble: The Question of Home

In an age when algorithms know our location but not our longings, when corporations track our movements but cannot map our souls, when artificial intelligence can predict our purchases but cannot fathom our prayers, we find ourselves confronting the most ancient of human questions: What does it mean to have a home?

This is not merely a question of real estate or geography, but of the deepest human need for belonging—to a place, to a people, to a purpose larger than ourselves. The digital revolution has promised to connect us all, yet has left us more isolated than ever. It has offered us the world at our fingertips, yet has stolen the ground from beneath our feet.

We write this manifesto not as Luddites who reject all progress, but as human beings who insist that progress must serve human flourishing, not replace it. We write as people who have tasted both the bitter fruit of digital servitude and the sweet possibility of authentic freedom.

Chapter I: The Theft of Place

The Problem: Everywhere and Nowhere

The digital economy has created a peculiar form of homelessness—not the absence of shelter, but the absence of place. We can work from anywhere, which means we belong nowhere. We can connect with anyone, which means we are intimate with no one. We can access everything, which means we treasure nothing.

This is not accidental but intentional. The global economy requires a rootless population—workers who can be moved like chess pieces, consumers who have no local loyalties, citizens who identify more with brands than with neighbors. The destruction of place is the prerequisite for total market penetration.

The Resistance: The Radical Act of Staying Put

We propose the revolutionary act of choosing a place and committing to it—not because it is perfect, but because it is ours. This means:

Choosing locality over mobility: Investing in the place where you are rather than always seeking the place where you might be
Building relationships that cannot be digitized: Knowing your neighbors' names, their stories, their struggles
Participating in institutions that require physical presence: Churches, community organizations, local governments that meet in actual rooms
Supporting businesses that serve the community: Choosing the local bakery over the global brand, even when it costs more or offers less convenience

The goal is not isolation but rootedness—the kind of deep belonging that allows for genuine hospitality to strangers.

Chapter II: The Recovery of Time

The Problem: The Acceleration Trap

Digital technology has not saved us time; it has stolen time from us. We are busier than ever, more connected than ever, more informed than ever—and more exhausted than ever. The promise of efficiency has delivered only the demand for constant optimization.

Every moment must now be productive, every experience must be documented, every thought must be shared. We have lost the art of contemplation, the luxury of boredom, the gift of silence. We have become human doings rather than human beings.

The Resistance: The Discipline of Sabbath

We propose the radical discipline of regular rest—not as laziness but as resistance to the tyranny of productivity. This means:

Observing digital sabbaths: Regular periods of disconnection from all digital devices
Practicing the art of doing nothing: Sitting without purpose, walking without destination, thinking without agenda
Choosing depth over breadth: Reading fewer books but reading them more carefully, having fewer conversations but making them more meaningful
Honoring natural rhythms: Working with the seasons, resting with the darkness, celebrating with the light

The goal is not inefficiency but humanity—the recognition that we are more than the sum of our outputs.

Chapter III: The Restoration of Work

The Problem: The Gig Economy Lie

The modern economy has convinced us that freedom means having no boss, no schedule, no security, no colleagues. It has rebranded precarity as flexibility, isolation as independence, anxiety as entrepreneurship. The result is not liberation but a new form of servitude—one where we are simultaneously worker and manager, employee and employer, never able to rest because we are always responsible for our own survival.

Meanwhile, meaningful work—the kind that serves human needs and builds human communities—is devalued in favor of work that generates data, captures attention, or optimizes efficiency.

The Resistance: The Dignity of Craft

We propose a return to work that serves human flourishing rather than algorithmic optimization. This means:

Choosing craft over career: Developing skills that create beauty, solve real problems, or serve genuine needs
Building rather than extracting: Work that leaves the world more beautiful, more functional, or more just
Collaborating rather than competing: Joining with others in common purpose rather than treating everyone as a rival
Serving the local before the global: Meeting the needs of your community before trying to scale solutions worldwide

The goal is not to reject all modern work but to insist that work serve human dignity rather than diminish it.

Chapter IV: The Defense of Privacy

The Problem: The Surveillance Economy

We live in an age of unprecedented surveillance, where every click, every purchase, every movement is recorded, analyzed, and monetized. This is not merely a threat to privacy but to the very possibility of human development. How can we become who we are meant to be if every stage of our becoming is being watched, judged, and manipulated?

The surveillance economy depends on our data exhaust—the digital traces we leave behind simply by living in the modern world. But it also depends on our consent, our participation, our willingness to trade privacy for convenience.

The Resistance: The Practice of Opacity

We propose the deliberate cultivation of privacy—not because we have something to hide, but because we have something to protect: the sacred space of human becoming. This means:

Choosing analog alternatives: Using cash instead of cards, books instead of screens, maps instead of GPS when possible
Practicing data minimalism: Sharing only what is necessary, storing only what is meaningful, connecting only when it serves genuine relationship
Creating spaces of sanctuary: Places in our homes, our schedules, our lives that are free from digital intrusion
Supporting privacy-respecting alternatives: Businesses and technologies that serve users rather than harvest them

The goal is not paranoia but preservation—maintaining the conditions necessary for authentic human development.

Chapter V: The Cultivation of Attention

The Problem: The Distraction Machine

The digital economy has discovered that human attention is the scarcest and most valuable resource. Every platform, every app, every device is designed to capture and monetize our attention. The result is not just distraction but the fragmentation of consciousness itself—the inability to think deeply, feel fully, or be present to the people and places that matter most.

We have become a people who know everything and understand nothing, who are connected to everyone and intimate with no one, who have access to all information but lack wisdom.

The Resistance: The Discipline of Focus

We propose the intentional cultivation of attention as a spiritual discipline and political act. This means:

Choosing depth over breadth: Reading books instead of articles, having conversations instead of exchanges, contemplating questions instead of consuming answers
Practicing presence: Being fully where you are, with whom you are, doing what you are doing
Cultivating wonder: Approaching the world with curiosity rather than cynicism, mystery rather than mastery
Defending contemplation: Creating space for reflection, meditation, prayer—whatever practices help you connect with what is most real and most important

The goal is not productivity but presence—the capacity to be fully human in each moment.

Chapter VI: The Politics of the Human Scale

The Problem: The Tyranny of Scale

Modern institutions—governments, corporations, technologies—operate at scales that make genuine human participation impossible. We are governed by algorithms we cannot understand, employed by corporations we cannot influence, served by systems we cannot navigate. The result is not efficiency but alienation—the sense that we are subjects rather than citizens, users rather than persons, resources rather than souls.

The Resistance: The Preference for the Small

We propose a bias toward human-scaled institutions and solutions. This means:

Participating in local governance: Attending town halls, serving on committees, running for local office
Supporting human-scaled businesses: Choosing companies where you can know the owners, influence the policies, and see the impact of your patronage
Building mutual aid networks: Creating systems of support that depend on relationship rather than bureaucracy
Practicing subsidiarity: Solving problems at the most local level possible, escalating to larger institutions only when necessary

The goal is not to reject all large institutions but to ensure that they serve human communities rather than replace them.

Chapter VII: The Economics of Enough

The Problem: The Growth Imperative

The modern economy is built on the assumption of infinite growth on a finite planet. This impossibility drives the relentless extraction of resources, the constant creation of artificial needs, and the treatment of human beings as either consumers to be manipulated or workers to be optimized. The result is not prosperity but anxiety—the constant fear that we do not have enough, are not enough, will never be enough.

The Resistance: The Practice of Sufficiency

We propose an economics based on the radical idea of "enough"—that there are limits to what any person needs, what any community can sustain, what any planet can provide. This means:

Choosing quality over quantity: Buying fewer things but buying them well, making them last, repairing rather than replacing
Practicing gratitude: Recognizing the abundance that already exists rather than focusing on what is lacking
Sharing resources: Building libraries, tool libraries, community gardens—institutions that multiply access while reducing individual ownership
Measuring success differently: Valuing health over wealth, relationships over achievements, beauty over efficiency

The goal is not poverty but abundance—the recognition that we already have what we need for human flourishing.

Chapter VIII: The Technology of Liberation

The Problem: The Myth of Neutral Technology

We have been told that technology is neutral—that it merely amplifies human intentions without shaping them. This is false. Every technology embeds certain values, enables certain possibilities, and forecloses others. The technologies that dominate our age are designed to extract data, capture attention, and generate profit. They are not neutral tools but active agents of a particular vision of human life.

The Resistance: The Choice of Appropriate Technology

We propose the deliberate choice of technologies that serve human flourishing rather than diminish it. This means:

Asking better questions: Not "Can we build this?" but "Should we build this?" Not "Does it work?" but "What does it do to us?"
Choosing convivial tools: Technologies that enhance human capability without creating dependency, that can be understood and repaired by their users, that serve the common good
Supporting open alternatives: Software, platforms, and systems that are owned by their users rather than by corporations
Practicing technological fasting: Regular periods of disconnection to remember what life is like without digital mediation

The goal is not to reject all technology but to choose technologies that enhance rather than replace human community.

Conclusion: The Great Work of Our Time

The great work of our time is not technological innovation or economic growth or political revolution. It is the preservation and cultivation of human dignity in an age that treats human beings as problems to be solved rather than mysteries to be encountered.

This work requires no special skills, no advanced degrees, no technological expertise. It requires only the courage to be human in public, to choose the difficult path of freedom over the easy path of servitude, to insist that efficiency serve humanity rather than the reverse.

The work begins not with grand gestures but with small choices: where to live, how to work, what to buy, whom to trust, how to spend our time, what to pay attention to. Each choice is a vote for the kind of world we want to live in.

We are not optimistic about the future, but we are hopeful about human beings. We have seen what happens when people choose community over isolation, craft over consumption, presence over productivity, love over efficiency. We have tasted the possibility of authentic freedom, and we know it is worth fighting for.

The digital revolution promised to liberate us, but delivered only new forms of servitude. The human revolution—the choice to remain human in an inhuman system—offers the possibility of genuine liberation.

This is our manifesto, our declaration of independence from the tyranny of the algorithm and the dictatorship of the data. We choose to be human. We choose to be free. We choose to be home.

Written in the fifteenth year of the twenty-first century, in the quiet rebellion of afternoon tea, in the name of all that is human, particular, and gloriously inefficient.

May it serve not as the final word but as the first word of a conversation that continues around kitchen tables, in coffee shops, in churches and community centers—wherever human beings gather to remember what they are for.

This Manifesto is introduced in