The following piece is an opinion and does not reflect the views of The Eagle and its staff. All opinions are edited for grammar, style and argument structure and fact-checked, but the opinions are the writer’s own.
There is no denying that society has eliminated community from its list of priorities. We are entrenched in our work lives, associating our worth with the quantity and quality of our output, as well as our home lives, ensuring that the next generation acts as both a reflection of our success and damage control for the messes we leave behind.
The time spent in these two spaces is all-consuming, and it has led to small circles of association that are cordial merely out of obligation and a desire to succeed.
The too-small circles produced by solely residing in these spaces place unrealistic expectations on those closest to us. When a vast majority of our socialization lies in interactions with our families, or the ones in closest proximity to us, there is an unfair assumption that all our emotional needs will be met by a small handful of people.
We no longer acknowledge the importance of developing a wide support net. This pressure makes sustaining these relationships both taxing and unrealistic. In turn, we have lost our ability to socialize in a way that authentically enriches communities and builds relationships on strong foundations.
In an environment that prioritizes productivity over quality of life, we have seen the death of one of the most crucial elements to a healthy society: the third space. The “third space” was a term first coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in his 1989 book “The Great Good Place.”
The concept of the third space refers to a location separate from work and home where people can informally build community, develop relationships more freely and engage in civil discussion. The death of the third space has unravelled necessary ties for political progress.
Civil discussion among individuals with differing beliefs is essentially non-existent, and any semblance of a connected community has fractured at an alarming rate. The division between different groups of people is understandable.
Establishment politicians have mobilized hatred for the “other,” leading to assumed animosity among strangers and a desire to reside in our own bubbles that provide us with stability, security and known acceptance. The political climate has led us to assume the worst of individuals from specific demographics and form opinions based on nothing but harmful stereotypes.
Even the thought of regularly engaging with strangers in public places seems foreign in the digital age. Why risk an awkward, one-sided conversation with an uninterested stranger when you can bury your head in the comfort of your phone screen, where every social media post reaffirms your beliefs and allows you to insulate yourself in familiarity?
The growing search for comfort over novelty, and in turn apathy towards others, is not a byproduct of this social division, but rather a major contributing factor to it. The search for comfort and stability in a volatile society binds us closely to the two most foundational pillars of modern-day life: work and home, both of which estrange us from spaces that encourage leisurely socialization.
These stress-free, apolitical spaces effectively ensure that the decisions made are in the best interest of the people. Through birdwatching, book clubs and bowling leagues, we can strengthen our compassion and care for individuals from all walks of life, develop critical and analytical perspectives on our society and further communicate, engage with and understand the world and the people around us.
Intentionally dedicating energy to fostering these relationships is a fulfilling experience. Our world is harsh and quick to anger, so why do we run from obvious opportunities to soften our interactions?
Rising individualism and hustle culture, as a result of late-stage capitalism in America, have paralyzed us when it comes to pushing ourselves outside our comfort zone in the name of community and interpersonal association. Networking is the only time we push ourselves to meet new people, and if an event is not a resume builder, it is not deemed worth our time.
The death of the third space and the prioritization of output, money and success has robbed us of the time and energy to invest in associations that are purely for enjoyment and building community. We have been taught to detest, and consequently, avoid discomfort and social rejection in any way possible.
Perhaps the key to restoring a foundation for community and building more quality, fulfilling relationships is engaging with discomfort for the sake of furthering connection. Maybe, instead of residing in the comfort found in monotonous routine, it is time we unplug and embrace the discomfort found in trivial interactions. Engage in conversations with strangers on the Metro, create book clubs that encourage friendly discourse or intentionally submerge ourselves in free and open community spaces that deviate from the confines of our daily associations at work and home.
The responsibility to rebuild a society that is being destroyed each day by the hands of the wealthiest and most powerful individuals should not reside in the people. However, to deny our agency in progress on a personal, social and political scale, and to fail to view community as a catalyst for resistance is to concede to the very system that profits from our struggle.
Ava DiGiacomo is a sophomore in the School of Public Affairs and a columnist for The Eagle.
This article was edited by Quinn Volpe, Alana Parker, Addie DiPaolo and Walker Whalen. Copy editing done by Sabine Kanter-Huchting, Arin Burrell, Paige Caron and Andrew Kummeth. Fact-checking done by Aidan Crowe.
