In a piece at The Federalist the writer tells a sad, lonely story:
Let me tell you about my Southern California neighborhood. I have lived in this one for 22 years. I don’t know anyone, but it’s not for lack of trying. Each time a new neighbor moves in I bake a loaf of bread and take it to them. They thank me at the door and then close it. That is the last I see of them other than when they go to their cars.
One neighbor was pregnant and her husband was employed, so I gave her my phone number just in case she needed anything. She thanked me and didn’t give me her number. We spoke over the fence occasionally, but not in any way that would turn us into buddies or even casual friends. They moved.
Our newest neighbors dropped a card on our front porch before their bread was baked to tell us their names and gave us their phone number. I still have it four years later. I baked the bread and the mister thanked me at the door. I have never met the Mrs. in person.
I hosted a coffee klatch and made up fliers and put them on the 12 nearest homes. I got donuts, cut up fruit, and made coffee and tea. Six people came, drank the tea, and no one touched the donuts or fruit. They chatted about who all used to live here in this neighborhood over the years, said thank you and left. No one asked a single question of me. I have never been to their homes or had a conversation with any of them since.
By way of comparison let me tell you about my Chicago neighborhood. In my neighborhood we know each other, know each other’s children’s names, and care about each other. We exchange Christmas cookies. We hold block parties. On occasion we exchange the keys to each other’s homes. We watch each other’s homes when someone goes out of town. We shovel each other’s walks when it snows. We share the produce from our gardens. We talk with each other over our backyard fences or sitting on the stoops in front of our houses or when walking our dogs.
Maybe what the author of that article has experienced is the well-documented collapse of community in the United States chronicled in Bowling Alone. But I think there may be something else at work as well.
We’re choosing our communities differently than we used to. It’s far less common that we’ll have a geographically-based community like a neighborhood or the things that go along with that like block clubs. We’re also less likely to form communities around our work. There are fewer company bowling leagues or baseball teams than there used to be. Bowling leagues and baseball teams aren’t being replaced by company videogame groups or cosplay clubs or something else more 21st century.
Our communities are much more likely to be virtual ones—our Facebook friends or people on Pinterest or what have you—or based on other affinities, e.g. shared interests like canine agility or collecting stamps or some other interest. It will be different than the communities of the past and I don’t know what the implications will be. It may be cold and lonely as the author of the piece believes. I don’t think it is reversible.
That was very similar to the last neighborhood I lived in. We had only one neighbor we actually knew and trusted. I hated it.
As you know, over the course of the last 25 years I’ve lived in many different communities and moved frequently. There are a lot of these hollow suburban nightmares out there where the idea of community only rears its head to enforce HOA covenants. And actually it’s not limited to suburbia – my sister-in-law experienced the same thing in NYC. The lack of community in so many communities is one reason that I greatly preferred to live in military housing where there was always a sense of community. Each time we did we made good friends that we’ve kept in touch with over the years. Over time we built a very strong and diverse virtual community, but it all came actual communities.
One thing we’ve discussed here before is the decline in civic engagement and civic organizations which I think runs in parallel and may have a common cause. It doesn’t bode well for the future IMO, and atomized population is one that cannot exercise coherent collective action.
It will be different than the communities of the past and I don’t know what the implications will be. It may be cold and lonely as the author of the piece believes. I don’t think it is reversible.
I agree with this, and it’s notable then that it would benefit older people to adopt the technological means of engaging with virtual communities.
I would hope we can retain the best parts of neighborhood communities while also adding the benefits of virtual relationships, but somehow progress never seems to work that way. There’s too much of a tendency to throw out the old and replace it, instead of keeping the beneficial features of older practices and adding to them.
Chesterton said that there were two sorts of reformers. One sort said “I don’t see the use of this—throw it out!” while the other sort said “I don’t see the use of this—we’d better keep it.” In my experience almost all reformers are of the first sort.
Yes, I agree and often use that Chesterton fence story. It’s why I almost always reflexively side with conservatives even when I agree wi the need for reform (and would support reforms that weren’t so rash.)