The Need for High-Quality Public Spaces

 

The importance of robust public spaces cannot be overstated. 

I've always believed that the quest for social connection was, first and foremost, something that had to come about through a sort of internal spiritual awakening. That is, a collective understanding that we can not go it alone as purely self-maximizing individuals; we need each other. While I still believe that to be true, I do think that, in the past, I've downplayed the vital role of external environment and the affects it can have on us as social creatures. 

People-friendly spaces, as opposed to sterile spaces devoid of engaging amenities, can facilitate social connection and much-needed weak-tie relationships. 

It's pretty intuitive, actually: if people are not physically around each other, their prospects for social connection are not very good. 

Public places in and of themselves, however, are not enough to combat our current plague of social atomization. 

As Shawn McCaney writes for Governing, people need more "high-quality public places where Americans can connect." The operative word here being, high-quality. 

A high-quality public space must have eclectic amenities, robust programming, places to sit and converse, and walkable paths. Perhaps most importantly, these spaces must be maintained. Many of the parks and baseball places I used to frequent with my father when I was a child, for instance, are now unkempt and encumbered by weeds. This is an example of a low-quality public space. 

Other communities, however, have re-purposed dormant and abandoned infrastructure, turning them into vibrant and fecund social spaces. 

McCaney uses the example of Philadelphia's new Rail Park, an erstwhile railroad viaduct that had been left unused and functionless since 1984.  Now, thanks to community efforts and innovative design, it is a place to connect and unwind. 

Philadelphia's Rail Park

Though the park is only in phase-one of its rollout, it is already offering exciting events, including a "Three Mile Vision Tour," which aims to explore the "past, present, and future of the Rail Park, highlighting the potential for this project to connect thousands of Philadelphia residents and visitors to green space and each other." 

You can find a 9-minute YouTube walk-through of the Rail Park, with it's unique swinging benches, here. 

We need more spaces like this that are conducive to connection. It will require inventiveness, a willingness to re-purpose unused infrastructure, and active community-backing. Cities across the country, fortunately, are proving that civic life can be restored. 

The Appeal of Neo-Luddism

 

I, like you, have a smartphone. Sometimes, though, I wish I didn't. 

Up until my sophomore year of college, I used a Verizon Octane, a neat little flip-phone with a horizontal keyboard. 

Verizon Octane

Being a student in 2016, however, required me to use certain apps which I was unable to access on my clunky dumb-phone. So, out of necessity, I caved and purchased an iPhone SE. I was soon addicted. I downloaded every app from Instagram and Facebook, to games like Plants v. Zombies and The Sims. I have, like so many other people my age, become tethered to my phone. 

But not everyone has capitulated.

In an article for The Lamp, a thoughtful Catholic publication, Peter Tonguette describes himself as a "proud, almost-exclusive user of landline phone-service." It is mystifying to think that, in 2024, people can function without a smartphone. Peter doesn't disdain our contemporary smartphone culture; he just finds no need to abandon what is tried and true: the ole landline. 

To be sure, there isn't much you can do with a landline: you can call, leave voicemails, and... well that's pretty much it. 

But Peter doesn't need all the frills of new technology. He is perfectly content with the reliability of the one-feature phone. 

What's more, those who choose to forego smartphones - or at least prevent their intrusion into every aspect of our daily lives - exist in the moment in a way that we, the smartphone-using masses, are not. I - again, like you - am guilty of firing off text messages or checking my email while out with friends. In fact, there is a word for this activity: phubbing. Look it up!

Peter, on the other hand, is not at his phone's every beck and call (no pun intended.) "When I am away," Peter explains, "I am truly away."

Peter's two phones are in his office and the entry way of his home. Impressive. 

Phone-tower

While it is, I think, pretty unrealistic for us all to revert to landline use only, I do think there is some merit to leaving our smartphones stowed away and out of site for prolonged periods. Maybe, during your commute to work, try reading a physical book. Or, when out to dinner with your friends, start a phone-tower. That's when everyone at the table stacks their phones on top of each other. 

It's worth a shot!

 

Loneliness v. Solitude

 

It is important that we do not conflate loneliness and solitude; while the former connotes a sense of yearning and discontent, the latter describes a much-needed time of introspection and recombobulation. 

A good communitarian will strike a healthy balance between extroversion and self-reflection. Without ample time to engage in solitude, we deprive ourselves of essential cognitive development. Before we express our outward-facing selves to others in the realm of civil society, we must first work to better understand and enhance our inner-beings. While the practice of solitude may seem simplistic, it can actually be quite arduous, requiring the self to, at times, drift into boredom and embrace that boredom as a naturally-occurring and integral component of being happily alone. 

Sherry Turkle - in her important book, Reclaiming Conversation - writes that, "children can't develop the capacity for solitude if they don't have the experience of being 'bored' and then tuning within rather than to a screen." 

Today, though, many of us are incapable of embracing boredom. We are ensconced in a perpetual state of sensory stimulation. By fidgeting and turning to our phones when we feel boredom creeping up on us, we shirk a feeling that may be, at least initially, uncomfortable. 

We must force ourselves to sit still. 

By sitting still, without the aid of our iPhones, we can activate our creative minds. Conversely, when we watch mindless Instagram Reels - which, in full transparency, I've been known to do for extended periods - we put our minds to sleep. In small doses, this is harmless; in large doses; it will surely retard our social selves. 

You'll notice that none of this connotes loneliness, but rather, contentment with time alone. While loneliness is something we've all felt, it is an unproductive state of being. When we are lonely, we seize to be in the moment and, instead, hyperfocus on what is, at least temporarily, unattainable. We yearn for what we don't have: company and companionship. 

The distinction between loneliness and solitude is an important one, but we've all experienced both. 

Please tell me: What are some of your solitary activities? 

Caring for Our Fellow Citizens, Just Like Hamilton Did

 

How can we truly become, as the late Amitai Etzioni put it, a "community of communities?" Or, put differently, how can we reclaim a kind of patriotism that engenders feelings of togetherness and societal cohesion? 

In an essay for the September/October issue of Foreign Affairs, Walter Russell Mead extols the virtues of a Hamiltonian-inspired patriotism. "Then, as now," Mead writes, "Americans must embrace a duty of care toward one another... And just as individual Americans have duties and ties to their family members that they do not have to the public at large, they have obligations to their fellow citizens that do not extend to all humankind." 

Conservatism today, in contrast to the kind of small-c conservatism embraced by Hamilton, is too often conflated with a obligation-free libertarianism. While the former puts emphasis on responsibility and duty, the latter jettisons all of that in favor of maximum autonomy and un-ordered liberty. 

A country of individuals pursuing their own self-interest without any conceptualization of the common good, however, will further fragmentate. We will continue to see our fellow citizens as strangers with little in common, save the pursuit of material maximization. If there is to be no spiritual re-evaluation of our civic priorities, we will descend into a Southern Italian-style amoral familism. 

"Hamilton," Mead continued, "risked his life for a nation that was just being born." But are we, nearly 250 years later, still determined to preserve this awesome inheritance through civic duty and a shared sense of patriotism? 

This will, firstly, require us to see each other as neighbors in a common fight for the creation and preservation of community. And, secondly, to view each other, not as ideological combatants, but as members of a uniquely pluralistic family. 

I'll admit, I was encouraged to see myriad displays of the American flag and chants of "U.S.A." at the Chicago Democratic National Convention. Democrats, I think it's fair to say, have wrestled with, what I call, a "patriotism problem." That is, they are often characterized as having an overly critical view of America, one that can almost be seen as disdainful. 

Here is a video of Ella Emhoff - daughter of Doug Emhoff and Kamala Harris - affectionately referring to her father as "Mr. U.S.A." 

This is a positive development. I hope it is sincere. 

Reclaiming Hamilton's vision is, I think, well within our ability, but it will require work. 

Some of my friends and colleagues, while appreciative of my writing on communitarianism and de-polarization, think this is all pie in the sky. I think they're wrong. Though I agree that we are at an emotionally over-wrought place in our shared American story, I do believe that there are greener pastures ahead. 

Give it time and patience, my friends.