Imagine a Saturday afternoon in Manhattan’s bustling Meatpacking District, but with a whimsical twist: roughly 100 individuals, sporting distinctive conical gnome hats crafted from vibrant manila envelopes, embarking on a southbound march along the iconic High Line.
This quirky procession was part of the second annual ‘Scathing Hatred of Information Technology and the Passionate Hemorrhaging of Our Neo-liberal Experience’ conference. It’s all the brainchild of the Lamp Club, a unique organization for those with Luddite leanings, or at least a strong desire to unplug.
While the overall message was a clear stand against technology, a curious question lingered: why gnomes?
“Because gnomes come from the earth,” Bucky Baldwin, one of the event’s enthusiastic organizers, declared through a megaphone, his dark brown hair bouncing with each emphatic word.
Then came the follow-up: why lamps in ‘Lamp Club’?
“Lamps simply create that perfect atmosphere,” explained Jackie McVorran, the visionary who founded the Lamp Club in October 2023.
From its inception, the Lamp Club has gravitated towards unconventional gatherings. True to its name, Ms. McVorran, 19, intentionally avoided typical meeting spaces like conference rooms or classrooms, opting for environments free of harsh overhead lighting. One of their earliest ventures was a ‘shoes optional’ day at the New School campus. This idea stemmed from a desire to dismantle contemporary anxieties surrounding in-person interactions, subtly shifting social dynamics by placing participants in a refreshingly unfamiliar context. Ms. McVorran and Mr. Baldwin, 21, first connected as students during an open mic night at the university cafe, sharing a vision for this movement.
“Some participants found it incredibly liberating, while others reacted with ‘That’s crazy. That’s nasty,’” recounted Ms. McVorran, a native New Yorker pursuing studies in psychology, philosophy, and anthropology.
Unfazed, she sought to understand the strong opposition from some of her classmates, concluding, “I think it all goes back to people feeling alienated from one another.”
The Lamp Club is a vibrant addition to a flourishing network of ‘neo-Luddite’ groups emerging nationwide. These organizations encourage individuals to fundamentally rethink and reshape their relationship with technology. Unlike previous movements, many of these groups, such as the Luddite Club, APPstinence, and Breaking the (G)Loom, are spearheaded by teenagers themselves. They criticize smartphones not just for eroding human connections, but also for exacerbating societal issues like inequality and climate change. Currently, over two dozen such Luddite Clubs are active across North America, from Ithaca, N.Y., to Irvine, Calif.
“We’re all interpreting the core Luddite philosophy in unique ways,” noted Logan Lane, founder of the Brooklyn-based Luddite Club. “The sheer spectacle of the Lamp Club’s activities really captures people’s attention.”
Ironically, until recently, the Lamp Club leveraged Instagram to announce its events. However, their page primarily featured photos of physical flyers that members printed and posted across city streets and subway stations. An Instagram post from April plainly stated, “Our digital presence is a fabricated personality. Please meet with us in person.” True to their principles, last month the club officially severed ties with the platform, declaring in a final message: “We Are Leaving Instagram Forever.”
An embedded video shows Lamp Club members during their High Line protest, energetically chanting: “We will free the iPad babies — even if it gives us rabies.”
The Lamp Club’s approach to tackling significant social issues like atomization and alienation is characterized by its whimsical and often absurdist style. Two images show different scenes from their events.
“I simply envision the world I desire to inhabit—one enriched by analog tools—and choose to live precisely that way,” Ms. McVorran affirmed.
“People are simply exhausted by the relentless push forward and the mandated perception of technology as synonymous with progress,” explained Caitlin Begg, a sociologist and founder of Authentic Social, a research lab dedicated to understanding technology’s impact on daily life. “They no longer wish for their time and attention to be commodified.”
Begg drew parallels between the Lamp Club and the mid-20th-century Situationist International, a collective of artists and leftist thinkers who, as The New York Times once described, “mixed Surrealism, Marxism and sometimes spectacular hedonism” to articulate their critiques.
Ms. McVorran similarly sees the Lamp Club’s mission extending far beyond individual phone habits. (She herself uses a flip phone, while Mr. Baldwin, though still on a smartphone, intends to switch to a Light Phone – a minimalist device designed without social media or internet browsing capabilities.)
The group explicitly embraces an anti-capitalist stance, addressing broader societal issues such as atomization and profound alienation.
Ms. McVorran highlighted common instances of antisocial behavior: individuals engrossed in their phones during dinner, failing to acknowledge someone holding a door, or simply feeling restless when faced with boredom. “People are truly isolated,” she stated.
Another powerful video features a Lamp Club member addressing the crowd: “I want you all to think: For every second that you have your headphones in on the train, you’re not talking to anybody and you’re not taking in the world. For every one of those seconds, how much of your life do you let pass by?”
Susan Westbrook, visiting from Saratoga Springs, N.Y., with three friends, serendipitously encountered the High Line protest at its outset. She and her companions were captivated by the diverse ‘characters’ – she specifically noted one Lamp Club member who appeared like a ‘wizard’ – and found themselves deeply sympathetic to the group’s message.
“We didn’t grow up with this technology, but these phones are incredibly addictive,” remarked Ms. Westbrook, 66. “It was wonderful to witness so many young people taking a stand.”
Beyond marches, some Lamp Club activities resemble conceptual protests, drawing inspiration from Peter Schumann’s 1960s political theater project, Bread and Puppet. This past summer, for example, Ms. McVorran, Mr. Baldwin, and other Lamp Club members joined a ‘dinner party’ in a plaza at 1221 6th Avenue, hosted by the Luddite-affiliated group Free POPS.
This particular plaza, though publicly advertised, is managed by the Rockefeller Trust and operates under stringent rules clearly displayed on a plaque. An upscale steakhouse, featuring large windows overlooking the concrete park, occupies the ground floor.
“These spaces fundamentally belong to the public,” Ms. McVorran asserted. “Our intention was to serve as a powerful reminder of that fact.”
Ms. McVorran and her fellow club members—a diverse mix of friends, classmates, and city residents of all ages—take pride in their precise understanding of how to push boundaries without incurring official repercussions.
During the demonstration, two members, identifiable by their yellow high-visibility vests, carried clipboards containing copies of the plaza’s bylaws and a detailed schematic outlining the adjacent skyscraper’s property lines. Other participants gathered lightweight metal tables and chairs, arranging them strategically just a few feet from the restaurant’s windows.
Despite a torrential downpour, Ms. McVorran, Mr. Baldwin, and over a dozen others defiantly sat down for their mock meal, undeterred by the gawking diners inside. (Eventually, a restaurant worker lowered the shades, seemingly in response to the spectacle).
Later that afternoon, as the High Line march progressed along the elevated path, the group managed to attract a few new participants, alongside a fair share of puzzled onlookers. While some passersby seemed entirely unaware of the protest’s objectives, others attempted to decipher the message from the signs and unusual props.
“It’s about getting off social media,” one confident passerby declared, while their companion merely shrugged, perhaps less certain.
The march concluded down the High Line’s southern stairs, with the group then turning back up Washington Street to pause in front of a Tesla showroom. There, they erupted into a rallying chant: “We will free the iPad babies, even if it gives us rabies!”
“My generation often seeks self-discovery through technology,” explained Maya Giurgi, a friend of Ms. McVorran’s who joined the Lamp Club last year. As a trained dancer, Ms. Giurgi now leads movement classes for the club, stating, “I’m actively trying to become more aware of how I distract myself or escape into my phone.”
Ms. Giurgi, 21, emphasized that the club’s inherent ‘playfulness’ makes its events incredibly approachable and welcoming to new members.
The High Line protest reached its dramatic peak outside an Apple store. The scene was captured in two images: one showing the crowd gathered, and another as an iPad was dramatically smashed to pieces, eliciting cheers from the onlookers.
Not all observers were sympathetic. Carol, a 72-year-old hobby photographer from Forest Hills who chose not to provide her last name, openly dismissed the protest. “I think it’s ridiculous,” she declared, highlighting the very technology being used by protesters to document and organize their anti-tech demonstration. “They all have iPhones. I just don’t understand it.”
As the event drew to a close, Khamani Brown, a 17-year-old student from the Fashion Institute of Technology, arrived on his bike after his father (who had passed by earlier) called, suggesting he might be interested in the ongoing demonstration.
Mr. Brown, 17, expressed a keen interest in climate activism, noting the clear synergy between his own values and the Lamp Club’s philosophy. “I believe it all aligns perfectly,” he stated.
The protest culminated in a final rally outside the expansive Apple store in the Meatpacking District. Here, a mock trial was staged for an iPhone and an iPad, both found guilty, and summarily smashed to pieces by a masked ‘executioner’ amidst a cheering crowd.
Mr. Baldwin, Ms. McVorran, and other members delivered impassioned speeches decrying the isolating effects of technology. “The people in your phone aren’t real,” Ms. McVorran emphasized, imploring everyone within earshot to actively engage with the tangible world around them.
Ironically, just behind her, dozens of people, partially listening, continued to gaze at their screens while waiting in line for the latest iPhone release.