What if We're Wrong About Each Other?

By Frank Filocomo

Nothing can replace in-person connection.

Lura Forcum, in her new Substack, How to Human, explains how her bimonthly potluck dinners foster interpersonal connections and weak-tie relationships that would otherwise be difficult, if not impossible, to cultivate digitally:

Every other month, on Sunday evenings, people bring a dish for dinner at my house. Anyone is welcome. It’s not fancy, but the food is good and so is the company.

Forcum, who, along with the State Policy Network's Erin Norman, authored Beyond Polarization, is an advocate for socializing with those outside of your ideological orbit (read my write-up of that report in National Review here).

It's true: we tend to surround ourselves with people who are "politically like-minded" and "on the same page," ideologically speaking. 

There's nothing wrong with this, of course, but, if the goal is the engender a culture of high-trust relationships and communitarian values, we must venture outside of our silos and extend social invitations to others whom we may disagree politically, theologically, or whatever. 

It's also true that, party affiliation aside, we may have more in common with each other than we initially think:

From the article:

It’s easy to attribute all sorts of inaccurate, negative characteristics to other people, especially those who are different from us. But in-person interaction confronts us with the reality that the characteristics we attributed to other people aren’t very accurate. We have to correct our assumptions based on the person in front of us.

So, in the spirit of rising above the current climate of toxic polarization and balkanization, I encourage you to dine and converse with those from outside your orbit; you might be surprised by how in-person connection and meaningful dialectic can make your preconceptions about others fall by the wayside. 

Read more by Lura here. 

The City of Roommates

By Claire Cordonnier

“When you’re young, you don’t need much to survive,” a hair stylist told me recently when I was getting my hair done somewhere near 60th street. That’s right, if you keep your necessities cheap and uncomfortable, there’s more money to spend on frivolous things like hair treatments and overpriced clothing.

As you get older, your physical needs become more demanding and uncomfortable things become even more so. New York is full of discomforts, and these can’t be tolerated as easily by the old as by the young. 

The things that make roommates annoying are the same things that make the city annoying. And aren’t roommates more so a “young people” thing? 

One can’t get too far away from their fellow New Yorkers; we’re all siblings in a way. We all live close enough together to observe and be annoyed by each other’s dirty habits. We’re all constantly in one another’s way: blocking the sidewalks with our slow walking, hampering the stairwells with our meandering steps, and causing our business-casual fellow New Yorker to miss his train and wait another 6 minutes.

It’s not enough to check the street intersections for cars, you must also check for the lightning swift biker that comes hurling down the gray street in your direction, who’s trajectory seems prepared to yield at nothing. In more residential areas, your every step ought to be one of caution, as the sidewalk is never guaranteed to be clean. At night, the random unexplained yelling of strangers and the persistent, long honks of cars keep you up.

Our lives occur in such close proximity to one another, we’ve probably both contemplated our deepest sorrows in the same subway car, or enjoyed a happy morning coffee in the window seats of the same cafe. These are not new ideas. We express our affection for one another often in the form of distrustful glances and unsmiling faces. Reluctantly, we’re roommates.

How many young people are here in New York, just living off of the adrenaline of being in the city, that mixes with their youthful feelings to give them a sort of immunity to New York’s discomforts? I hope that they enjoy it.

Forming 'Weak Ties' Through Community Design

 

By Frank Filocomo

"We are happier," writes Robert Steuteville in Public Square, "when we have connections to other people."

People-friendly and human-centric urban design, Steuteville posits, can engender feelings of social-connectedness and facilitate what sociologists often refer to as "weak ties," that is, the loose and informal social bonds we make with our neighbors and fellow community members. 

Much of today's urban landscape, however, feels cold and sterile. And, as I've noted before, we have a tendency to let our environment dictate or at least shape our behavior. In other words, anti-social urban design will be internalized by community members in a way that makes them distrustful of others and connection-averse. And even weak ties are hard to form when people see each other, not as neighbors, but as social obstacles.  

Thoughtful urban planning, though, can transform communities. 

Steuteville writes that,

how we build communities can strengthen social ties, and boost satisfaction. There’s a transportation component: When we walk, we are more likely to have a friendly interaction with another person.

I've written about walkable cities before for National Review. You can read that here.  

Steuteville, in making the case for walkable cities, explains how his children benefited from "prosocial" urbanism:

I raised my children in a historic neighborhood, where they walked to three schools, K-12. They met friends each day and had a personal relationship with the crossing guard at the elementary school, who always had a friendly word. When he retired and later died, they mourned.

Conversely, if we live in sprawl, without the ability to serendipitously bump into our neighbors during our daily stroll or commute to work, we will deprive ourselves of the weak ties that are characteristic of robust and flourishing communities. 

We must look to New Urbanist principles as a helpful aid in the revival of American community.

Before you go: Check out my latest article for Philanthropy Daily here. I discuss how intergenerational-connectedness can help shield the elderly from loneliness and isolation. 

Oh, and The Frank Forum got a little shout-out in Jack Fowler's Civil Thoughts newsletter here. 

See ya next time!

'Make New Friends, but Keep the Old'

By Claire Cordonnier

Make new friends, but keep the old.

One is silver; the other is gold.

A circle is round; it has no end.

That’s how long I will be your friend.

This song, “Make New Friends,” is sung by young girl scouts all over the country. That was certainly my experience. The song is about the importance of friendship and being there for others. The lyrics in the first stanza remind listeners not to neglect their old friendships, calling new friends “silver” and old ones “gold.” Ironically, the song's young audience may not be old enough yet to meaningfully distinguish “new” from “old” friends, though surely they will grow up to find that the message of this song endures.

Making new friends does not isolate one from old friends if one takes steps to maintain and nurture their pre-existing friendships, which can really become as valuable as “gold.” This is because keeping a friendship for a long time often requires both parties to face the challenges that inevitably arise in long-term relationships.

Cancel culture manifests itself in one's personal relationships in that it can encourage one to eliminate others from their own life upon the first signs of the other person being problematic. While it is good to be aware of warning signs in a relationship, how far is too far? Is it possible that the cancel-culture mindset prevents people from persevering long enough in relationships for them to develop into “gold?”

The song “Under the Bridge” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers describes the loneliness experienced by Anthony Kiedis, the band's frontman, and the connection he felt to Los Angeles:

Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner

Sometimes I feel like my only friend

Is the city I live in, The City of Angels

Lonely as I am, together we cry

Its lyrics also nod at the common experience of loneliness endured by many city-goers. It's a cliche to come to the city to pursue a new life. But many people do, and in doing so, leave behind all of their own friends and end up feeling lonely. They pass by the city’s picturesque locations, ice cream parlors, and cafes - all of which would be wonderful to enjoy with friends - with an ironic weight of sadness in their throats.

But the city is also full of gift shops containing postcards to send back home, and beautiful parks to walk through, with one ear inclined toward an old friend on the phone. So why not beat the loneliness stereotypes by developing “golden” friendships?

Claire Cordonnier is a spring 2025 intern for National Review Institute. She is currently pursuing her bachelor’s degree at New York University, and plans to major in politics and journalism. Before beginning her studies at NYU, Claire spent a gap semester interning for non-profit organizations–The Borgen Project and the Childhood Cancer Society–and working as a barista in a local coffee shop.

Reading Together

 

By Frank Filocomo

Should reading always be a solitary activity?

Nadya Williams, in an article for Front Porch Republic, makes the case for a more communitarian kind of reading. 

"The function of the earliest literature," Williams explains, "was to bring people together rather than give them a delight to hoard all to themselves."

Literature, therefore, was meant, not to be consumed in isolation, but to be experienced in a communal setting.

The Homeric epics were composed and performed orally by traveling bards before there was a Greek alphabet for writing them down. Performances brought communities together for the joy of such entertainment. These occasions also provided people with shared literature to discuss presumably for days after such performances.

I'll admit, my reading is done exclusively alone. I've always found books - good books, that is - to be a sort of vehicle to internal exploration. But, perhaps they can also function as a tool to community cultivation. 

There's different ways that this can go down. There are read-alouds, which Williams does with her children daily, but I'm not sure how applicable those are to other demographics. 

I'm more intrigued by silent reading parties of the sort that Reading Rhythms hosts in NYC and elsewhere. 

To be clear, these are definitely not book clubs; they're parties. 

Everyone brings their own book (no assigned reading here) and then discusses what they've read with a perfect stranger. So, there are intervals of silent reading, followed by intervals of conversation.

Molly Young documented her experience at a Reading Rhythms event in the New York Times. I recommend giving that a read here. 

To be sure, book worms are notorious for their social introversion. When it came time for Molly to turn to a stranger and discuss what she had just read, she recalled feeling "an icy dart of trepidation" shoot through her body. 

She quickly, though, overcame this pang of anxiety and lost herself in conversation and community. 

Some, at first blush, will think this hippy-dippy or a Bushwick-bohemian fad. And, who knows, it very well may be. But, so what? The revitalization of community will inevitably require innovative thinking and resourcefulness. 

I'm tempted to sign-up for one of these "parties." At the modest fee of $20, it is appealing. 

We'll see... 

Will You Go to the Movies With Me?

By Frank Filocomo

The neighborhood cinema used to be a go-to place for date nights, friend hangouts, and various other outings. 

Today, though, the public theater has largely been supplanted by the at-home entertainment system.

What's more, some American towns have no movie theaters at all. 

In Commonplace, Jon Bishop writes that the city of Worcester, Massachusetts doesn't have a single movie theater.

Some reddit users on the r/WorcesterMA subreddit have corroborated this. 

On that forum, u/MattOLOLOL, wrote: "As to why we can't sustain a movie theater anymore, I'm not sure. I'd bet the pandemic was a big factor, but still, we're a city of over 200k."

Another user commented: "I think people just don't go out to the movies anymore." 

Whatever the case, this is profoundly sad. The movie theater, as documented in Giuseppe Tornatore's magnum opus, Cinema Paradiso, is an integral part of community life. Without it, we are relegated to our bedrooms to passively watch Netflix while phubbing on our smart phones. 

This privatization of movie watching, Bishop argues, has further eroded the American monoculture:

Along with the decline of the form itself, the collapse of moviegoing portends the continued collapse of our common culture. Going to the movies with family and friends and then talking about what you saw, perhaps over a meal, after the film was something a lot of people once enjoyed doing. And it was an activity that was truly democratic, as it was something the rich and the poor could do equally. And popular films also led to water cooler conversations.

The "water cooler conversations," that Bishop mentions, are simply harder to have today, as we are all watching different things. 

Michael Brendan Dougherty made a similar point in National Review last year:

There is a sense in which our culture has been frozen since the 1990s. The internet and paid cable TV really got to work on resegregating, silo-ing, and deconstructing what had been a common, mass popular culture. It was thrown to flinders as people bought multiple cheap TVs, and then Napster, the iPod, and the iPad tore it up in a BitTorrent. Eighty-three million viewers had once tuned in to see who shot J. R. in 1980; 76.3 million tuned in to watch Jerry Seinfeld and his friends put in the slammer in 1998.

Now, Seinfeld producer and writer of that finale, Larry David, has relitigated that episode in the finale of Curb Your Enthusiasm, which was watched by just 1.1 million people.

This is a troubling development...

While streaming Netflix and Hulu and DoorDashing food to your apartment is convenient, it is completely devoid of social connection. 

In fact, Bishop remarks that, with the advent of contactless delivery, we don't even have that brief face-to-face interaction with the person dropping off our meals. 

Everything has become decentralized, impersonal, and individualized. 

This trend, if it is to continue, will only compound our current scourge of social atomization. 

But, as I've said before, people - young people, especially - are yearning for a return to community. 

We see this in the form of hip dine-in theaters like the Nitehawk Cinema in Brooklyn (this place is always packed with zoomers), and drive-in theaters, which are still present all over the country. 

Look, I understand that the times are changing - I don't mean to sound like a hopeless reactionary - but it's perfectly reasonable to point out the tradeoffs of "progress." Expediency, for instance, comes at the price of interpersonal interactions. We've seen this with the emergence of self-checkout kiosks. 

But, while we can't go back to yesteryear, we can keep some old traditions alive. 

So... will you go to the movies with me?

Are Libraries Getting Louder?

 

By Frank Filocomo

You should be able to hear a pin drop in a library, right? The only sound ought to be the turning of a page or perhaps some faint whispers, no?

Maybe not so much anymore. It appears as though the library as a quiet place is becoming increasingly anachronistic.

Libraries are shifting their focus from places of solitary reading to community centers with a range of programming.

In Governing, Alan Ehrenhalt observes that libraries are embracing their new status as "third places."

From the article:

We are all familiar with the stereotype of the fussy librarian telling patrons to keep quiet. That tradition is disappearing. Nearly all libraries still have designated quiet rooms, but everywhere else in the building silence is no longer a requirement. People can talk as much as they want to.

At first blush, one might lament the changing character of libraries, and that is perfectly understandable. Change is always hard. But, we have to come to terms with our contemporary plague of loneliness and social isolation. If libraries can reinvent themselves and become community-hubs, then all the better. So long as they maintain reservable private study rooms, I doubt many folks will complain. 

More from the piece:

An increasing number of libraries have opened cafes to enhance local sociability. Many have placed job-training centers inside. Seattle’s main library contains a satellite City Hall. Charlotte is building an indoor-outdoor library to attract more customers year-round. The library in Athens, Ga., has become a focal point for chess tournaments...

After reading this, I began to wonder: what does my local library offer? 

I was shocked to see the wide array of programming available: writing workshops, knitting clubs, a videogame group for teens, arts and crafts, and English literacy courses for immigrants. 

How did I not know about this incredible resource that is just blocks away from where I've lived for years?

Encouraged by the fact that my local branch is active - I truly thought it was dormant, nothing more than a vacant building - I applied for a few volunteer positions there. 

So, I encourage you: look into the programs available at your local library. While it'll probably be a bit noisier than you remember, it might just be a valuable place for companionship and social connection.

The Frank Forum Turns Two!

By Frank Filocomo

When I launched The Frank Forum in March of 2023, I wanted to create a space for communitarian-minded thinkers to be able to freely engage in ideas that were heterodox and truly counter to the prevailing neoliberal consensus of autonomy-maximizing libertarianism.  

We mustn't lose sight of the fact that civil society is a prerequisite for democracy in the fullest sense of the word. That is, an atomized citizenry - much like a sick fish that loses its slime coat, the protective layer that aids in thwarting off disease and bacterial infection - will invariably fall ill and, therefore, susceptible to dangerous, meretricious ideologies and regimes. 

A society typified by robust levels of civil society, however, is far less likely to be seduced by illiberalism and flimsy utopian claims. 

American Enterprise Institute senior fellow Tim Carney makes this point in his must-read book, Alienated America: Why Some Places Thrive While Others Collapse (Harper, 2019).

The thesis is actually quite simple: civil society is, in effect, your slime coat.

So... why start a blog when this social malady of alienation has already been documented in various books?

Well, short blogs are, at least in my experience, easily digestible. Reading Bowling Alone once ten years ago isn't enough; we need to be constantly reminded of the things that plague us if we are to know how to tackle them in a meaningful way.

These posts - which are often short and without frills - are to serve as weekly reminders that we cannot just sit around and hope that things miraculously get better. We have to actually do things. 

That is why posts on here are not just descriptive; they are also normative and prescriptive. 

See: Becoming a Communitarian: A Guide of Sorts.

Two years isn't a long time, though. We have to stay on the beat. 

I am grateful to this blog's great contributors: Matthew Malec, Troy M. Olson, Laik J. Green, and others for their important pieces. 

I am also grateful to this blog's supporters such as Lynn Gibson and Jack Fowler for their promotion of this site. 

2025 is already off to a great start. Let's keep this ball rolling...

A Laugh From The Past

Credit: Pavel Danilyuk via Pexels

By Matthew J. Meyers

Growing up as a millennial in the early 2000's, I'm glad to have experienced the greatest era of comedy films ever made. Yes, I said it: EVER MADE! I say this for plenty of reasons, which I will elaborate on here. 

During this time - not just in film, but in all aspects of pop culture, such as in television, video games, and music - entertainment had a tendency to push the envelope and evoke a sense of shock for American consumers. My theory is that in the decades prior to the 2000's (specifically in the 80's and 90's) there were many musical artists, television producers, and filmmakers who have, figuratively speaking, walked the plank to controversy. Musical artists such as Judas Priest, Marilyn Manson, NWA, and many others had tested the boundaries of free speech by expressing their distaste for societal norms.

Following this was the creation of television programs in the late 1990's such as South Park, Family Guy, The Sopranos and many others. These would become some of the first shows in history to introduce mature content such as cursing, nudity, and off-color/dark humor.

I'm not implying that all of these components are necessary for great comedy, but the originality and introduction of this never-been-seen-before crudeness characterized some of the greatest comedy films ever made. 

Think about how quotable these films were: "Milk was a bad choice" Anchorman (2004), "We're the three best friends that anybody can have" The Hangover (2009), and "Mom, the meatloaf, F**k!" Wedding Crashers (2004). I don't know if its just in the nature of us millennials to cling onto a funny moment in a film and memorize it to the point where it becomes an inside joke amongst us, or if its something that sticks out about these films that keeps us remembering them for the rest of our lives. All I know is that I've never heard my parents quote the Breakfast Club or Animal House as we do with the films we grew up watching. 

That said, there's one last point that I'd like to make about the comedy films of my generation: this era of comedy fell among the last couple of good years before the wave of political correctness that has plagued our society. For a long while (estimated between around 2013-2020), it was looked down upon to make light of things that highlighted our differences (such as weight, race, gender etc.). This reluctance to break taboos, in my humble opinion, has ruined the fabric of our freedom of expression for a long time. 

In recent years, however, I've noticed that many millennials and zoomers have been opening their eyes to all of this and are taking a stand against it. Now, for better or worse, the pendulum is being swung in the complete opposite direction. This has, in turn, led to the rise of people like Andrew Tate who, in my opinion, are poisoning the minds of young men, leading them to think they have to constantly live in a state of "warrior-mentality," where life can't simply be cherished and enjoyed.   

The 2000's comedy era holds a special place in our hearts, not only because of the jokes and the satire, but because it takes us back to a simpler time in our lives. It serves as an important reminder to all of us that life shouldn't be taken so seriously no matter how hard things get. 

Nothing Like a Good Diner

 

By Frank Filocomo

There's no place like the neighborhood diner. 

Whenever I'm at my local diner drinking a hot cup of coffee, I can't help but think of Suzanne Vega's hit song, "Tom's Diner." I personally prefer her acapella rendition to the studio version. 

Some lines from the tune:

I am sitting in the morning

At the diner on the corner

I am waiting at the counter

For the man to pour the coffee

And he fills it only halfway

And before I even argue

He is looking out the window

At somebody coming in

There's something so evocative about Vega's lyrics. If you close your eyes and listen, it feels like you're there.  

The diner I frequent actually used to have little jukeboxes at every table. These were removed years ago, but man, they would have been a hit today...

Diner jukebox

I have many fond memories from the diner: first dates, hangouts with friends, celebratory meals, etc.

All good things, though, must come to an end. 

In Philanthropy Daily, Andrew Fowler laments the loss of his favorite diner, the Bridgeport Flyer, located in Milford, Connecticut. 

Fowler writes:

Countless hours had been spent in its booths, between nourishment after late night escapades to date nights to book club hangouts and catching up with old friends revisiting the hometown. There were hearty laughs, good cheer, life updates, deep conversations, heartbreaks, and even reconciliation.

While on the surface the loss of a diner might strike some as trivial, these establishments are so much more than greasy spoons where drunks go to eat at 3:00 AM; they are magical places that cultivate community and unforgettable memories. 

Think, too, of all of the cinema and shows that utilize the diner setting. 

Off the top of my head, I am reminded of Andrew Neiman, the fictional drummer in Whiplash, breaking up with his girlfriend, Nicole, in one of those classic diner booths.

Andrew breaks up with Nicole in Whiplash

Or how about when, in Beautiful Boy, Nic, a drug-addicted teen, pleads with his father, David, to give him money...

In Beautiful Boy, Nic asks his father for cash

On a lighter note, remember how central the diner was in the show Schitt's Creek?

Johnny and Moira at the diner in Schitt's Creek

On that latter example, the diner was pretty much the epicenter of the Schitt's Creek community. It's where decisions were made, difficult conversations were had, and neighborhood gossip was spread. 

And who can forget Twyla, the eccentric and affable waitress?

Twyla collecting dirty dishes in Schitt's Creek

In fact, the more I write this post, the more that comes to mind...

Do you recall when Alexis hosted a "singles week" at the diner?

Alexis hosts singles week at the diner

Anyway, I'm getting carried away here. You get the point: diners are essential third places. 

Speaking of third places, Joe Pitts and I wrote about dive bars as valuable community-hubs for National Review. Check that out here. 

See ya next week!

Challenge Coin Collection Gets Challenged By Toddler

By Troy M. Olson

I have been ruminating a lot lately on my military coin collection, a tradition from service often carried onward. The more places you go, the more people you meet and interact with, the more coins you'll have. My coins from military days both at home and abroad are now augmented by new coins from civilian life in the decade since.

Recently, my son has taken to playing with these coins which I ordinarily kept nice and tight. Dress right, dress. One of the last vestiges of the hyper discipline from another life and another time. 

But alas, a toddler has goals and he was fascinated by all of these coins and has hid them all over the place in parts unknown. The first few times I took them away and just moved them higher up on the shelf... then he'd just climb up higher to get them. Reaching a bit higher each time. Until before long I relented and gave up on trying to keep the collection from him. 

Now they're all over the place. Hidden. When I asked where they are he'd say "sorry Daddy." 

The same process played out with medals as well until only one is truly out of his reach now. But it's not my medal, it's my maternal grandfather's Good Conduct medal from the Second World War. He gave it to me when I was barely old enough to throw the ball around. 

I imagine that may have been the last medal he bothered to keep around after three kids and five long decades separated him from the events it relates to. 

Maybe he went through exactly the same process of letting go of the tangible and physical, reaching out to the eternal instead. 

****

Troy M. Olson is an Army Veteran, lawyer by training, and co-author (with Gavin Wax) of ‘The Emerging Populist Majority’ now available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Target. He is the Sergeant-at-Arms of the New York Young Republican Club and co-founder of the Veterans Caucus. He lives in New York City with his wife and son, and is the 3rd Vice Commander (“Americanism” pillar) of the first new American Legion Post in the city in years, Post 917. You can follow him on X/Twitter and Substack at @TroyMOlson