I was deep in thought yesterday, when I fell into one of those “the lights are on but no one is home,” trance-like states. The kind of intense reflection that makes the people around you wonder if you were abducted by an alien or something. As my stream of consciousness took over, a myriad of memories, to-do lists, worries, jokes, friends I need to catch up with, and who knows what else flashed through my mind.
For a millisecond, my thoughts wandered to the declaration that I truly enjoy the whole social networking thing. Being connected with so many impressive industry leaders makes me feel like I have been transported to some top secret facility, where I am the proverbial fly on the wall in this grand conference room, happily eavesdropping on some of the most forward-thinking, inspiring conversations around. And from a purely casual friendship level, I appreciate how I can quickly keep my finger on the pulse of what is going on with my friends and family. In just minutes I can peek at a few new pictures, leave a smart alec comment, congratulate someone’s accomplishments, or help a friend find a new plumber. And almost always my experience on these sites is positive.
Why do I get so much enjoyment out of participating in these online communities, anyway? What makes it so addicting? Why has it taken ahold of us like this?
My thoughts segued to a college memory I had long forgotten. During my junior year, I signed up for what sounded like an easy, blow-off course called “The Sociology of Public Space.” Clearly there was some divine intervention at work at the time, because it ended up being one of the best courses I have ever taken.
In this class, we examined the impact that architecture, parks, corner pubs, coffee shops, cozy book stores and other informal gathering places have on the level of vitality, connection, and support a community experiences. I found it fascinating to stop and think about why we are drawn to “hang” in certain places and can’t wait to get out of others.
Ever really stop and ponder why we relish those Starbucks moments? There are always at least a half a dozen or more people gathered there, day or night, contentedly sunk deep into one of those big, velvety armchairs reading the New York Times while sipping slowly on their somewhat overpriced fat-free-no-whip-sugar-free-cinnamon-dulce-lattes. Or why do we just feel like spunkier, happier, better people as we take in that wholesome apple pie and Americana vibe we get while strolling down Main Street USA at Disney? Or why are so many home builders erecting suburban communities that feature houses with detached garages, big inviting front porches, and wide, well marked walking paths that lead right to the community’s very own “Town Square?”
According to sociologists, we NEED these sorts of public places. Places where we can come together and feel connected. According to Ray Oldenburg, Ph.D., Professor Emeritus at the Department of Sociology at the University of West Florida and author of The Great Good Place, “What suburbia cries for are the means for people to gather easily, inexpensively, regularly, and pleasurably — a ‘place on the corner,’ real life alternatives to television, easy escapes from the cabin fever of marriage and family life that do not necessitate getting into an automobile.”1
Theorists studying the social science of public spaces maintain that the advent of the car and the popularization of cookie cutter suburbia has created this “life in a vacuum” experience. Many of us don’t walk to our corner, family-owned market anymore; we drive to the grocery store. Most of aren’t passing our neighbors on the sidewalk on the way to work and play; we utilize some sort of transportation to get to where we are going or we stay isolated in the privacy of our homes. And the majority of us to do not fraternize at the local pub where everyone knows our names. Instead we live in this bubble, isolated as we transition daily from the bubble of our homes, to the bubble of our cars, to the bubble of our work offices/cubicles and back again. As a result, sociologists claim we are longing for the connection and support generations before us used to experience in their pre-bubble communities. Whether it was the close quarters of an urban setting (where people in a particular geographic area would develop a very strong sense of community because they worked, worshiped, shopped and likely drank ale together in the same general vicinity) or whether it was within the very conservative, close-knit rural communities (where folks would sit out on their front porches, sip lemonade and chit chat with all the nice people who strolled by and everyone truly DID know your name).
My point? I think that Social Media has re-created, to some extent, that connected, community-centric experience we’ve missed. Social networks have allowed us to easily laugh, share, debate, learn, support, empathize, connect, and commune. We can shop together, work together and even drink virtual ale together, if we want. In fact, social networks have offered us some other benefits we wouldn’t have had in the communities of the past, like the ability to communicate with someone across the globe in just seconds. Or the fact that we can watch, learn and secretly be mentored by so many really smart people by just choosing to follow their Tweets or read their blogs. We can stay up-to-the minute with distant family members and have easily reunited with old friends we had long lost touch with and who would have otherwise been nearly impossible to locate.
Would all this connection mean we’ve broken free of the bubbles?
I’m guessing that the answer to this question may be the very reason some people decide to close down their Twitter accounts, de-friend their FB connections, and turn off their cell phones or computers. The computer or mobile screen can’t really serve as a substitution for a real, face-to-face connection with someone else, can it?
Neither extreme– whether we’re wrapped up in the Social Networking world at the expense of our in-flesh relationships or whether we’re completely “dark” and disconnected– can truly meet our psychological need for community. Maybe we don’t truly harness the power of an online community unless we use it both to connect, communicate and extend both our virtual AND physical relationships.
The soft, hopeful new message alert “bing” chimed from my computer, snapping me out of my midday coma. I pondered my own use of Social Networking as I shifted my focus back to my work. Am I breaking free of or further perpetuating “the bubble?”
What’s your take? How do we truly plug into the community of this “public space?”
1. The source of this quote and Ray Oldenburg’s biography can be found on the Project for Public Spaces’ website.
Pingback: uberVU - social comments