Beyond the White Picket Fence
In our modern epoch, our idea of “community” has been morphing to align with the virtual landscapes that have become a mainstay of our daily lives. Some individuals are earnestly preparing for a future as avatars gallivanting through the 'Metaverse'—a realm accessible only to those donning the latest in virtual reality headgear. A virtual world where real-estate costs no less than in the real one—if you want a plot next to an A-list celebrity. Do you want to be virtual neighbor to rapper Snoop Dogg (for $450,000) or enjoy a luxury existence on Paris Hilton’s virtual island, dubbed “Paris World”? The choice is yours. And your wallet’s, of course.
The truth is that the idea of neighborhoods with chiselled front yards, white picket fences and friendly neighbors who gossip behind your back has been vanishing for a long time. Now, it's all about squeezing into tiny apartments and tiny homes, because square footage beyond that often requires winning the lottery.
But this growing isolation isn't just about our shrinking living spaces; it extends to the very fabric of our social tapestry. The strongest communities emerge not merely from geography, but also shared beliefs, understandings, and traditions. People tend to grow closer as they celebrate joyful occasions and as they mourn together when tragedy and grief strike. They don’t tend to form so much from random emojis and retweeted memes.
As our society hurtles toward radical individualism, people find less and less in common with those around them. And so, they drift further into social isolation.
We no longer all read the same newspapers or watch the same shows. The days of water-cooler conversations about the latest sitcom are over. Now, there's something for anyone, but, alas, nothing for everyone. It's a choose-your-own-adventure world, and we're all trying to navigate it without a map.
Yet, even as the concept of the traditional community erodes, the human need for community refuses to fade away. Enter online communities—the pixelated lifelines that connect us to kindred spirits across the digital expanse to try and fill that hole.
These new, virtual communities were formed around common interests, professions, hobbies, politics, and so on. Suddenly, it became easy to find like-minded people to connect with all over the world—no matter how niche and obscure the commonality.
And yet, there is something markedly different about these online communities. For starters, the depth of connection is different. You may earn likes for posting a photo of a well-executed avocado toast, but you’re less likely to have someone hold your hand after the loss of a loved one. The bonds are different. And why shouldn’t they be? After all, it’s far easier to depersonalize from an avatar than a real human being face-to-face. And the larger the community, the less likely it is that the members will feel a genuine connection.
There’s also a real loss of nuance that comes when engaging in conversations consisting of short bursts of text, fired off between tasks, half-distracted. It’s easier to misunderstand, lash out, and, of course, pile on. Worse of all, if a certain online community decides to ostracize and attack its members, it leaves an inescapable digital footprint. You can’t just move to a new neighborhood, make new friends, and find a new job. Rightly or wrongly, that footprint will always follow you. It’s the “neighborhood watch” that never sleeps and is always on the lookout for thought criminals.
In this brave new world, where avatars roam freely and digital footprints are more indelible than sidewalk chalk on a sunny day, it's crucial that we build the communities we want to see, no matter the size.
And they have to extend beyond the digital realm too. We need to build real communities that provide a home for those who feel homeless and alone. These expanding self-made alternative communities can have tremendous power when it comes to laying a foundation for the future we want to manifest, and fostering an environment that nurtures free expression, individuality, freedom, and respectful discourse.
As the infamous line from the film Field of Dreams goes “If you build it, they will come.”
Katherine Brodsky (@mysteriouskat) is a journalist, author, essayist and commentator. She has contributed to publications such as Variety, The Washington Post, WIRED, The Guardian, Esquire, Newsweek, Mashable, and many others. Over the years she has interviewed a diverse range of intriguing personalities in including numerous Oscar, Emmy, Tony, Pulitzer, and Nobel Prize winners and nominees—including the Dalai Lama.
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Excellent read.
The early enthusiasm for the internet was grounded in the supposition that the new digital analogues to social life, culture, commerce, etc. would supplement their solid-life counterparts. Not replace them.
It is sobering to review the last twenty years and come to realize that the things we truly value aren't what we imagined they were.