Hell is Other People: An Interview with Dylan Evans

What would you do if you thought that society was about to collapse? In 2006, worried by the possibility of imminent resource depletion, the author and academic Dylan Evans decided to find out what post-apocalyptic life would be like. Selling his home and quitting his job in Artificial Intelligence research, Evans set up a commune in the Scottish Highlands, to beging what he called The Utopia Experiment. Along with a group of volunteers, the experiment was designed to simulate the effects of a catastrophic global collapse. The commune would produce its own food, shelter and clothing, avoiding any supplies which would be unavailable in a post-crash world.

His new book, The Utopia Experiment, chronicles the life of the commune, and the intense mental stress which Evans experienced during his time in the Highlands, which led to his being sectioned under the mental health act. A fascinating insight into the mentality which leads people to embrace survivalism and the problems of communal living, the book is part memoir and part Jon Ronson esque investigation into the fringes of society.

Here, Dylan Evans discusses rewilding, the possibility of catastrophe, and his vision of utopia.

The Utopia Experiment is reviewed here.

At the start of the book, you explain that you began thinking about societal collapse whilst visiting the Mayan ruins in Mexico. You’re now based in Guatemala - what is it that draws you back to Latin America?

I love Latin America – and especially Guatemala – for lots of reasons. While studying Spanish at University, I fell in love with Latin American literature, from Jorge Luis Borges and Miguel Angel Asturias to Octavio Paz and Gabriel Garcia Marquez. When I first went to Latin America, in 1989, I discovered that the reality was just as magical as the fiction. I also find the people a lot friendlier than in the UK, and I’ve made a lot of friends in Guatemala. The good weather helps a lot too, as does the great food and the low cost of living. Personally, I also like the lawlessness of some parts – it’s nice not to have the nanny state breathing down my neck all the time, and I’m happy to pay the price of greater insecurity, though I admit that’s not an opinion that many of the locals would share. Last but not least I’m fascinated by the history of the great pre-Columbian civilizations, such as the Aztecs, the Maya and the Inca.

Did you ever feel that it would be difficult to return to reality after being part of the Utopia experiment for eighteen months? How did you adapt, when the time came?

During the first eight or nine months of the Utopia Experiment, I didn’t give any thought to what might happen when it was all over, or how difficult it might be to return to civilization. Then all of sudden it struck me that I had no idea what I would do afterwards. And this realization precipitated a mental breakdown that eventually landed me in hospital. When I did finally get back to civilization, it all seemed very unreal. I remember walking down a pedestrian street in Reading, looking at the stuff on display in the shop windows, and marveling at the abundance of it all, like some tribesman who has never been out of the jungle before. An anthropologist friend of mine remarked that I seemed to be suffering from the same kind of culture shock that he felt on returning home after a year of fieldwork in Papua New Guinea. But somehow this didn’t seem right to me. How could he compare the two experiences, when I had merely been in another part of my own country (the UK), and he had been to the other side of the world? Don’t be fooled by geographical distance, my friend replied. It’s the experiential distance between one form of life and another that matters.

It’s interesting that your cat, Socrates, failed to adapt to life in Utopia - in retrospect, should this have been an early warning sign? And do you think it tells us anything about the problems of rewilding?

Socrates was much smarter than me. He saw no value in subjecting himself to the wind and rain. He had nothing to prove. He just wanted to be warm and cosy. So he spent most nights enjoying the hospitality of some local farmer or other, probably curled up by an open fire, far away from the privations of Utopia. In a way, this shows not just how difficult it is to reverse the process of domestication (i.e. rewilding), but also how silly it is to even try. 

You’ve spoken about civilisations collapsing as they exhaust their supply of natural resources. Do you still see this as a present danger? And how do you deal with that worry now?

Yes, I still think there is a chance that global civilization might collapse this century, and that resource depletion might play a significant part in such a scenario. But I no longer think this is very likely. When I started the Utopia Experiment in 2006, I thought there was a fifty per cent chance of a global collapse occurring by 2016. I now think there’s about a ten per cent chance of something like this happening by the end of the century. In other words, it’s still a risk, but not nearly as big a risk as I used to think. However, I don’t worry about it any longer. If it happens, it happens, and I’ll deal with it, or not, when the time comes. I’m certainly not bothering to prepare for such an eventuality. I’m focused on enjoying the present.

How has your vision of Utopia changed since the experiment?

One thing I discovered during the experiment was that I didn’t actually like being around people nearly as much as I thought I did. I think I was always an introvert, but I could never really accept this until I did the experiment. It was as if the experiment was my last ditch attempt at being sociable, and when it failed I finally gave up trying. So, at the risk of sounding misanthropic, my vision of Utopia is now largely a solitary one. Of course, this is tantamount to skepticism about the very idea of Utopia, since that typically means an ideal society. I no longer believe that it’s possible to create a harmonious community. Sartre summed it up nicely – hell is other people. Actually, that’s not completely true; I do like other people in small doses, though I prefer to spend most of my time alone. Or with just a dog for company. And maybe a horse.

Although you did find some 'doomers' who were attracted to Utopia, Survivalism seems less prevalent in the UK than the US. Would you say that’s accurate, and if so, what would you put it down to - geography, politics, or something else?

Yes, there are many more survivalists and preppers in the US than in the UK, even as a percentage of the population. I think this is down to several reasons. People in the US tend to be much more skeptical of the government than people here in the UK, and don’t trust it to protect them in times of trouble. Indeed, they may actually view the government as the enemy. This links to a tradition of rugged individualism associated with the pioneers who settled the Wild West. Differential access to guns is also probably a factor; when the state makes it harder to get your hands on guns, you have little choice but to delegate the business of security and protection to the government.

You’ve mentioned previously that Against Nature was in your mind when you were planning the Utopia Experiment, although it isn’t really mentioned in the book - can you expand on that influence?

For a long time, Against Nature was my favorite novel. It’s strange really, because it is in many ways diametrically opposed to the whole idea of the Utopia Experiment. The Utopia Experiment was all about going back to nature – growing our own food, living without modern technology, spending most of our time outdoors, and so on. By contrast, des Esseintes, the protagonist of Against Nature, dedicates his whole existence to enjoying the finest fruits of civilization, such as expensive liqueurs, classical paintings, and exquisite jewelry. He is a forerunner of the delicate aesthetes championed by Oscar Wilde, such as Vivian in The Decay of Lying, who quite rightly complains that “nature is so uncomfortable.”

But Against Nature does have at least one thing in common with the Utopia Experiment; both embody a desire to escape from the hectic whirlwind of urban life. The novel starts with des Esseintes abandoning his social life in Paris and retiring to a small estate in the countryside. Cleverly, he does so alone. He even makes sure his servants keep out of his sight. My biggest mistake was to invite other people to join me in my rural getaway.

Over the course of the book, you found yourself in two constructed societies, where you were governed by rules, and living with strangers - Utopia, and the mental hospital. Which did you find to be the more supportive? And did you see any parallels?

I found the psychiatric hospital a lot more secure and supportive than the Utopia Experiment. For one thing, there were clear rules there, and people to enforce them. If I had been well, I would probably have preferred the greater freedom of the Experiment. But for someone who is feeling very weak and fragile, a more regulated environment is a lot more comforting. There were still moments, even in hospital, when the rules would break down, and something nasty would happen, but in general it was a lot safer than Utopia.

Finally, after writing a number of non-fiction and academic books, you're now working on your first novel - why have you decided to make that jump?

Writing The Utopia Experiment was already a change of direction for me. All my previous books were straightforward non-fiction, either reference works or popular science. The Utopia Experiment is still non-fiction, but it is a work of narrative. Writing the book enabled me to discover how much I enjoy telling stories. Now I’d like to try my hand at making a story up instead of telling the story of something that actually happened.