Community over self-sufficiency
Why Emerson was wrong in many respects
For many young environmentalists, Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essays, especially Nature and Self Reliance, are staples in the classroom or on the bookshelf. In our home, it sits next to the toilet, alongside other short works like Timothy Snyder’s On Tyranny and various poetry collections. I was in my junior year of college when I first read Emerson, in a class appropriately called “Literature and the Environment.” I recently stumbled across a notebook from that time with the following Self-Reliance excerpt:
I cannot break myself any longer for you, or you. If you can love me for what I am, we shall be happier. If you cannot, I will still seek to deserve that you should. I must be myself. I will not hide my tastes or aversions. I will so trust that what is deep is holy, that I will do strongly before the sun and moon whatever inly rejoices me and the heart appoints.
Poetically assertive, there are beloved nuggets of wisdom in this quote-worthy work; it’s guidance on nonconformity, conviction, and integrity are valuable whether coming of age or having a mid-life crisis. In so many ways, Emerson had it right; society dislikes when we stray off course and prefers we meet its outlined expectations. Embracing uniqueness is far more exciting than imitation and obedience, and we should learn to trust our instincts and seek out our own strand of individuality.
But this is where I have been scratching my head for years. Individualism is not only somewhat of a myth but, if gone unchecked, a problem. First, the myth: in what world does one evolve in isolation from external influence? On our quest for originality, we have been modeled nonconformity by the rule-breakers and hipsters who came before us. Taking charge of our own existence, as Self-Reliance encourages, does not happen in a vacuum. I’m not suggesting we depend solely on others—physically, mentally, emotionally—but it is inefficient and unsustainable to avoid help or support. It’s 2025, and we all know what burnout feels like.
And yet, breaking apart the term “self-reliance” causes us to feel we should fend for ourselves. Let’s not forget that Emerson was Thoreau’s mentor, and owned the land where Thoreau built his Walden Pond cabin. It’s here that Thoreau lived alone for a little over two years in “solitude”—and I use quotation marks here purposefully, because there are claims that he accepted outside help during his time at Walden Pond, including having his mother do his laundry.
I’m not throwing shade. This arrangement clearly worked for Thoreau, allowing him to access his authenticity and produce an important piece of literature. But it proves that we should be careful not to prescribe isolation for personal development. Being a strong individual may in fact require a collective effort, and this, my friends, is a real privilege, as we don’t all have community (more on this in a bit).
The myth only deepens when we do what transcendentalists like Emerson and Thoreau did best—look to the natural world. Nothing in nature exists without directly impacting and/or being impacted by its environment. Ants live in impressive colonies. Wolves work in packs. Mycelium are well known for their vast networks that communicate knowledge and share resources—not just with themselves but with the entire forest ecosystem. While independence may be viewed as a virtue, interdependence is in fact our truest state of being.
So what happens when we don’t have the ironically necessary connections to achieve self-reliance? Well, in the United States, we are seeing firsthand how rugged individualism can be extremely problematic. While contemplative solitude is delicious to indulge in from time to time, it is well documented that loneliness is an epidemic. A 2023 study found that Americans lack a sense of community when compared to other nations. Another found that 8% have no close friends—which is almost 1 in every 10 people. Meanwhile, Americans are more politically, socially, and economically divided than ever. And individualism seems to be the fracture widening this gap. You can see it driving down the streets of many neighborhoods, keeping an eye out for colorful signs and stickers; one side of the spectrum idolizes the idea of freedom and independence, while the other clings to the promise of social support and inclusion.
All of this makes great sense. Independence is hot dogs on the Fourth of July and standing at the start of a high school football game with your hand to your heart. That is to say, it’s incredibly American. Just yesterday I scrolled through a New York Times Magazine piece about the booming panic industry. Americans at almost all income levels are investing in bunkers, secret at-home gun ranges, and, on the extreme end, a $100 million compound surrounded by a moat that can light on fire. Protecting our individual selves (or our individual families) has become popular no matter your political stripe.
So much of this I understand. We live in an age of information overload, and the media cashes in on stories that keep us up at night. Incessant content fed to us via TV or algorithm is enough to make anyone want to slow down and assess their safety—to become more self-sufficient and less reliant on seemingly unreliable systems.
I can relate. At home, we are currently in the process of installing solar panels. We have chickens and my husband won’t commit to goats until we’re feeling settled-in enough to raise (read: breed, birth) them for milk. As of recently, we own a shotgun—something I never thought we would say as gun-control advocates. And our food stores are looking good, especially when paired with Kyle’s degree in plant science and uncanny ability to grow anything from seed. All in all, I feel pretty secure in the event of an emergency.
Still, I have no bunker and don’t know how to use a ham radio. I can barely shoot the shotgun, and I thrive on book club meetings and brunch with girlfriends. Even as my faith in humanity wavers and I learn to can vegetables, I’m not readying myself for the worst. That being said, all prepper communities know a fundamental truth: the most valuable asset in the event of an emergency is a good community. Scroll through any of Reddit’s many subs on preparedness and you’ll see this conversation ongoing; along with three months of food and a generator, you need a group of people to call on when the storm (or civil unrest) arrives.
A couple months ago, Ganga Devi Braun wrote a compelling piece titled “Villaging, Not Homesteading: We're Not Doing This Alone” in which she points out common misconceptions (and the right-wing appropriation) of homesteading—which I cringe at the thought of calling a “movement” since humanity has been living this way far longer than it has not. Reading her post, I let out an audible sigh; what a relief to hear someone say much of what I’ve been contemplating since first reading Self-Reliance.
Unlike homesteading, villaging is not about independence—it’s about interdependence. It’s about weaving networks of care, regenerating the commons, and recognizing that resilience doesn’t come from doing everything alone but from being in deep relationship with land and people.
The highly-Instagrammable homesteading-turned-tradwife trend presents the image of creating a quaint life—in the kitchen, in the garden—within the container of a single family. This is not reality. Nor is it healthy. We could never run our farm without the guy we get hay from or the neighbor who gives us enough wood to heat our home all winter. We are muddy and tired, and without friends and family, we’d have given up long ago. Digital vignettes portraying anything else should be squashed. It truly takes a village.
I see this no more clearly than in my day-to-day doings unrelated to the farm. Because I’m losing my vision and much of my independence (as I wrote about last week), it benefits me to be near loved ones. My parents live about 15 minutes away and my in-laws next door. Like a little mushroom, I am growing a large network. Mine is of friends who can be counted on for any number of things—other farmers, wood workers, welders, builders, beekeepers, chefs, and many, many artists and musicians (we need art to survive, too).
After years of contemplation, I’ve found a new hill to die on: self-sufficiency requires us to forge meaningful relationships, and self-reliance can only be fostered when our basic needs are met. We cannot effectively explore our own potential without a safe home to live in, nourishing food to eat, and ideally, a community to share with and receive from. The benefits of independence are laughable when weighed against interdependence; whether we like it or not, we live in a reciprocal world, and collaboration saves us more often than seclusion.
This is a topic that I will, without a doubt, be revisiting. And one I’d love to hear your thoughts on in the comments.
Love - “Like a little mushroom, I am growing a large network.” And I also read that NYTMagazine piece about the bunkers - I felt badly for the people who built them because they must be so frightened and lonely to do so.