UNABOMBER WAS RIGHT
- Madhukar Dama
- 13 hours ago
- 7 min read
An Indian Reflection on Technology, Freedom, and the Last Honest Rebel
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I. Who Was the Unabomber?
History records him as a terrorist. The FBI labelled him a domestic threat.
But behind the headlines, Theodore John Kaczynski—known as the Unabomber—was also something else:
A mathematical genius
A quiet forest hermit
A prophet of modern collapse
In 1995, he forced the U.S. to publish his manifesto under threat of violence. That document, Industrial Society and Its Future, now reads like a 35,000-word warning that no one wanted to hear—but everyone is now living.
His methods were wrong. His violence was tragic and avoidable.
But his diagnosis of modern life was chillingly accurate.
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II. His Amazing Intelligence
IQ: 167—higher than Einstein’s
Entered Harvard at age 16
Became the youngest math professor at UC Berkeley
Wrote complex academic papers that only a few people in the world could understand
And then, at 26, he vanished. He walked away from all of it—into a hand-built cabin in Montana with no electricity, no running water, and no company.
He wasn’t running from failure.
He was walking away from what he believed to be a system that was silently eating the soul of man.
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III. His Manifesto – Industrial Society and Its Future
The heart of Kaczynski’s vision was not destruction—it was restoration.
He believed that the industrial revolution had set in motion forces that humans could no longer control.
His main arguments:
Technology forces people to adapt unnaturally
Every technological “solution” creates a new crisis
Political reform is powerless against systemic technological momentum
Humans, once free and creative, are now mentally ill, addicted, and directionless
He called the modern citizen a “domesticated animal inside a digital fence”.
He wasn’t trying to save the system. He was trying to burn it down before it became unescapable.
And now, decades later, his fears are coming true—globally, in Indian metros, and even in the forgotten farmlands.
HERE IS THE FULL PDF OF THE MANIFESTO FOR YOU - https://web.cs.ucdavis.edu/~rogaway/classes/188/materials/Industrial%20Society%20and%20Its%20Future.pdf
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IV. Ten Prophecies That Came True — Globally, and in India
Below are ten core ideas from his manifesto, paired with clear examples of their realisation across the globe, in urban India, and in rural India.
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1. 🧠 Technology Will Outrun Human Control
> “Once a technical innovation is introduced, it escapes human control and reshapes society on its own terms.”
Examples:
Global: AI now generates fake videos of politicians. No law can keep up.
Urban India: Deepfakes used in political campaigns; facial recognition in airports and protests.
Rural India: Solar pump apps malfunction, farmers can’t irrigate fields. Aadhaar updates delay pensions for weeks.
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2. 🧬 Humans Will Be Reshaped to Serve the System
> “Instead of society adapting to humans, humans are adapted to suit the needs of the system.”
Examples:
Global: Brain implants, designer babies, gamified education apps
Urban India: Preschoolers learn coding. Working adults take dopamine-boosting "biohacks" to work longer hours.
Rural India: Four-year-olds carry smartphones; parents are told to train kids in English “for survival.” Local language, land, and farming are erased.
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3. 📉 Mental Illness Will Become Normal
> “In a society that robs people of autonomy, mental illness becomes a natural consequence.”
Examples:
Global: Over 1 in 5 people suffer depression or anxiety
Urban India: Therapy is now a billion-rupee industry. Suicide rates among students and professionals are exploding.
Rural India: Farmers dying of pesticide loans. Girls drop out of school after online harassment. Doctors push antidepressants for heartbreak, not food habits.
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4. 🎭 Most Modern Work Is a Meaningless Substitute
> “People now spend their lives chasing fake goals because real purpose has been stolen.”
Examples:
Global: People addicted to social media “productivity hacks” while being trapped in pointless jobs
Urban India: Engineers who hate their jobs now sell skin cream online; MBAs become YouTubers for views.
Rural India: Former artisans now sell SIM cards. Tribal youth abandon forests for app delivery work—then spiral into addiction.
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5. 🔐 Systems Will Grow Too Complex to Reform
> “You cannot fix the system with minor changes. It must collapse or be escaped.”
Examples:
Global: Climate summits happen yearly—but carbon emissions still rise
Urban India: Parliament bans plastic, but malls sell everything in 5 layers of it
Rural India: Forest dwellers can’t collect wild greens unless they fill forest department forms. Tribals need QR codes for ayurvedic seeds.
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6. 🎯 Technology Will Enslave in the Name of Efficiency
> “Efficiency is the carrot that lures people into cages.”
Examples:
Global: Every action is tracked “for your convenience”—but also for control
Urban India: People need OTPs to use toilets at metro stations. UPI stops, and entire shops shut down.
Rural India: Villagers stand for hours to get e-KYC done for ₹200 subsidy. Paper money is shamed.
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7. 🔊 Propaganda Will Replace Conversation
> “The system will drown truth in a flood of noise, slogans, and ‘correct’ opinions.”
Examples:
Global: News reduced to 20-second clips; facts vanish in trending hashtags
Urban India: TV channels scream “anti-national” at dissenters. School textbooks cut Gandhi and Bhagat Singh.
Rural India: WhatsApp forwards dictate beliefs. People stop trusting neighbors, start fearing them.
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8. 👮 Freedom Will Be an Illusion
> “We are free only to do what the system allows—and that window keeps shrinking.”
Examples:
Global: Protesters tracked by phones, banned from flights
Urban India: Data laws protect companies, not citizens.
Rural India: Farmers are arrested for burning stubble, even when it was their only option.
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9. 💢 Feminism, Progress, and Rights Will Be Co-opted
> “Even genuine struggles are absorbed and made toothless by the system.”
Examples:
Global: Women's empowerment now means buying more branded clothes
Urban India: #SheMeansBusiness campaigns funded by mega-corporates; no maternity leave for app workers
Rural India: ASHA workers earn ₹2,000/month doing 18-hour shifts. Menstrual health = branded pads, not food or rest.
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10. 💥 Collapse Is the Only Reset
> “Collapse is not to be feared. It is a chance to begin again.”
Examples:
Global: Rising climate disasters, war economy, food chain breakdown
Urban India: Heatwaves kill hundreds. Clean air becomes a luxury.
Rural India: Droughts last for years. Seasonal migration is now permanent exile.
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V. His Peaceful Alternative: Voluntary Simplicity
Ted’s manifesto wasn’t just rage. It was a call to unplug, to return, to repair.
He lived it:
Grew food with his own hands
Avoided all media, power, and processed items
Chose silence over applause
He called this “autonomy through simplicity”.
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✨ Who Else Has Chosen This Path?
Across India, families are quietly walking away.
In Wayanad, tribal healers now grow their own rice, barter herbs, and refuse smartphones.
In Kutch, women lead goat-rearing co-ops, using solar cookers and clay houses.
In Karnataka, I—Madhukar—live with my family in a tiny home.
We eat millets, ferment food, walk barefoot.
My daughters study nature, not syllabus.
We guide people with castor oil—not prescriptions.
We aren’t escaping life.
We’re finally living it.
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🧘 Final Reflection: Who Is Truly Free?
Ted’s bombs were wrong. But his question remains:
> What happens when a human finally refuses to serve the machine?
Today, we know. He was right.
We are not doomed to follow.
We can step out.
We can live small, live true, and live free.
He Tried to Warn Us, But We Laughed
(A poem for Ted, and for all who disappeared before the party exploded)
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They found him in a box in the woods
with rusted pots, yellow books,
no tap water,
no blender,
no woman,
no WiFi.
He wasn’t hiding.
He was escaping.
The rest of us,
we were growing glass towers,
chasing phone signals,
murdering silences,
and building altars
to convenience.
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Ted had eyes that didn’t blink for trends.
He saw the machine in its underwear.
Wires through our spine,
updates in our blood,
notifications in our breath.
He said:
> “You’ll call it progress
but it’ll feel like prison.”
And we called him mad.
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Meanwhile,
they put microchips in dog collars,
brain scans in job interviews,
and QR codes on beggars.
The village girl with turmeric fingers
now sells shampoo on reels.
The old man who knew the moon’s moods
can't unlock his ration
without retina scan.
The system asks for fingerprints.
The system asks for your last poem.
The system forgets your name
if you don’t update it every 30 days.
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He didn’t hate people.
He hated what they became
when they traded walking for scrolling,
soil for plastic,
truth for likes.
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He wasn’t a monk.
He was dirt under the fingernails,
mud between the toes,
a cracked kettle whistling old warnings.
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“Collapse will come,”
he wrote.
Not like an earthquake—
but like a man
forgetting how to weep.
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And here we are now:
we buy detox juices
to wash down antidepressants,
pay ₹12,000 for meditation apps
to silence the voices we invited.
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Our children learn coding
before they learn how to cook rice.
Our lovers touch each other
through filters,
lighting,
and silence.
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In the cities,
men build toilets
that smell like perfume
but their hearts
are full of sewage.
In the villages,
a cow dies,
a well dries,
a child stares at a cracked screen
waiting for class to load.
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Nobody can sleep anymore
without noise.
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Ted said:
> “Freedom means walking away
from what kills you
while pretending to feed you.”
And I think about that
when I watch a boy sell his father's soil
for a job with passwords.
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He was right.
Not because he had answers,
but because he asked questions
that made modern gods nervous.
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How can a man be free
when his day begins
with a buzzing rectangle
and ends
with bills he didn’t create
for things he didn’t need?
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He said we’d lose ourselves
in surrogate goals.
He said we’d forget
what it meant to just
chop wood,
carry water,
bleed into the earth
and be glad.
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They locked him in a cage
so we wouldn’t see
how caged we already were.
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And now,
in a little corner of Karnataka,
I warm castor oil
on a clay stove,
pack bellies,
watch rain.
My daughters laugh in the fields,
no curriculum,
no algorithm,
just rhythm.
We don’t call it rebellion.
We call it life.
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Ted didn’t want your admiration.
He wanted you to remember
how to breathe.
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But you won’t.
Not until
the battery dies,
the towers fall,
and the silence comes back
to sit in your lap like an old dog.
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And maybe then—
you’ll understand
why he left.
Not to destroy us,
but to remind us
that we had already
destroyed
ourselves.
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