Longing for Community

Community is ultimately about place. The terms ‘global village’ and ‘online community’ and indeed ‘social network’ are misleading. We also have religious ‘communities’ that are geographically unrelated and we have ethnic ‘communities’. Does community exist only under some higher authority? Does it exist only in opposition to some outside threat or power? These questions seem pertinent, but again I think it is a mistake to use the word ‘community’ here. Groups may thrive under authority and opposition. But there is something about a relationship with other people that cannot be separated from physical place. Community proper, I believe, must be about place. The odd thing about community is that it always exists. Even for people who live alone, they relate to the world through numerous forms of media. Intentional communities are often a little embarrassed by the idea that it is a provision especially suited to ‘the lonely’. (And note, of course, that there’s a big difference between being alone and being lonely.) Instead, I think, such communities would do well to embrace solitude as a very positive choice, rather that pretend that everyone is ‘normal’, jolly and easy-going. A lot of this hinges around the meanings associated with the word ‘community’. Co-housing communities, for instance, often use the word in a nostalgic sense – invoking memories of small village communities where people shared work and resources as well as gathering together for social events and entertainment that the community would provide for itself. The resilience of such historic communities came about as a result of shared responsibilities, trust and co-operation. But such was just the economic reality and social reality for the vast majority of people across Europe and for the early American settlers prior to the industrial revolution. Often, the reason for invoking this idyll is because of the threats from climate change. Our international supply chains are precarious, and as situations worsen – it is argued – nations, and then small regions of nations, will once again be compelled to be self-reliant. The Transition Town movement, in particular, invokes local resilience as a key factor in a smooth transition to a zero-carbon world. I think the arguments have a certain merit, but I have some reservations. Firstly, if there were a sudden collapse of world economic order then it is very doubtful that any nation could move smoothly towards clusters of self-reliant villages. Collapse means zombie apocalypse, and it might take centuries to rebuild things to the state they were, in, say, the early 19th century. So to suggest that eco-villages and co-housing are trying to reflect the way a future society might live is rather untenable, on these grounds. The ‘loss of community’ is often cited as a reason for closer social living arrangements – even without any reference to future calamities. But it has to be pointed out that this goes against the overwhelming move towards individualism and autonomy that is evident over the last several decades. Yes, people want to know their neighbours and to get along with them. But there are limits – very strong limits, I’d suggest – as to the level of involvement that is appropriate. Community is NOT friendship. Neighbours are NOT, by default, friends. It’s important to be clear about this. So if a community were to see itself as a model of future social arrangements, then it needs to recognise this as not a return to something that people say they want, but as a counter-culture. We could, of course, just say that a community has no particular agenda towards being a model way of living. It might just be a group of folk who want to choose carefully where they live and who their future neighbours might be. They do not – as usually happens – want to take the chance of moving to a new place and risk living near to people they find undesirable or disturbing. However, there is an ambiguity here. For one thing, it assumes that, given the opportunity, we could sit down with our prospective fellow residents and be able to discern their future viability as a friendly neighbour. It assumes that this would increase the odds of good neighbourhoods. But I would question this logic. Actually, the closer ties and social arrangements of an intentional community are a recipe for very deep disasters, as can be witnessed in private housing associations in the USA. After my many years of involvement in such groups, as well as other clubs and societies, I’ve noticed that a small number of specific types of problems always arise. This does not mean the group will fail, or even that it is not enjoyable and productive at least some of the time and for at least some of its membership. But I found the recurring problems stressful. I’ve long thought that there is probably some ideal character type and method of relating to groups that could allow a person to navigate such difficulties – and even to enjoy their participation. But, as yet, I’ve not struck upon it. Going back to the idea of an intentional community being a model for something. Western society has an overwhelming trajectory towards progress, expansion and growth. Those of us who simply want to stay home and tend our gardens are currently in the extreme minority. This is a further reason why it is difficult for intentional communities to act as a model for anything. There’s a further ambiguity around the meaning of the word ‘community’ here. One might expect that the drive towards individualism and autonomy – the other significant feature of Western society, noted above – one might expect that this drive would push us towards the ‘stay-at-home-and-tend-your-garden’ model rather than the expansionist model. But not so. The reason, I think, is that ‘community’ has changed. We now have ‘communities of interest’, which are increasingly free of geographical boundaries. It’s another reason why intentional communities’ emphasis on place-based community is so counter towards current trends. It might be that, despite our reliance on technology and our insatiable urge towards expansion and growth, we will nevertheless be able to solve the climate crisis and continue with our expansionist dreams. But the odds are against humanity right now – precisely because of the current story of growth and expansion. All kinds of activism are needed, and welcome, of course. But I think the focus needs to be on changing that Western narrative. I get some hope from the fact that changing a narrative is probably easier than changing human nature! But still, the task is daunting. So, despite my misgivings over some kind of intentional community being a model, I still find myself wondering if my mode of living could at least bear witness to this fundamental dilemma. I wonder if living a solitary life, quietly ‘tending my garden’, is still in some way meaningful, given all that I’ve said above. I don’t have any answers to this – and I recognise that I could sound even more delusional than folk who want to be a model for future societies. But that’s where I’m at. This thought stands then as something of a warning to those aspiring to create ‘intentional communities’. Such groups, it seems to me, make the mistake of using the word community in a confusing way. Somehow ‘the community’ as an abstract construct, takes on a role more properly served by family and friends. Participants in such communities are therefore led into an expectation that the community will fulfil a much closer and more personal role in their lives than is actually the case. It would be better to just use the word friendship and be done with it! We all agree that it is better when friends are local and physically-present rather than remote and reachable only by telephone or email. It may even go beyond this and the community may presume to offer something closer than ‘normal’ friendship or family relations. Whilst I don’t dispute such a close harmony can exist between people at times, I think it is misleading to refer to this as community. Again, if a group suggests that this is their aim, then they set themselves and others up for a potentially big disappointment. Let’s then consider briefly the word community in terms of just physical place. I want to suggest that the starting point is to fall in love with where you are and what’s around you rather than trying to sweep it all away and build something ‘better’. The people with whom we may end up sharing a community will inevitably be diverse. One writer says: ‘Our companions are given to us by grace.’ If you believe that nothing happens by chance, then in all situations there are no random encounters with people. One Buddhist writer says: ‘Have a gift for everyone who comes into your life.’ If we can turn our encounters with others into gifts then we allow the opportunity for community to be strengthened and for friendship to flourish. In all of this, it is good advice to hold these things lightly. Whilst much work may be required in strengthening communities, work is different from striving. Too much striving and things will fall apart. The culture we have created – at least in the West – has resulted in the ever-increasing autonomy of the individual, or at least a nuclear family unit. We are not reliant, except in times of emergency, on our neighbourhoods or communities for very much, if anything. There is an increasing tendency to distance the source of responsibility for all matters outwards, away from our neighbourhoods and towards the state. We seem to see the state as having some kind of legal obligation to provide all manner of help and to be liable financially, legally and morally for any failure in this regard. Help, which was once a privilege to receive via friends and neighbours, is now seen as a right. The individual is thus absolved from any responsibility in this process, except for paying taxes and generally keeping on the right side of the law. As it is helpful to think of community in purely geographical terms, it is helpful to realise that nation is always political. No map for instance is made without some kind of political intention, either overt or covert. Whilst citizens now have the autonomy to move freely between communities, such freedom is not as yet generally afforded between nations. We can only see this as a political contrivance. If the community were a genuine means of support for homes and families, then crossing to communities in other nations might be less of a problem. It would be a matter of acceptance by the recipient community. However, from the above, it is the nation that would have to take on the responsibility for the incomer. Does this make it potentially easier or more difficult? I don’t know. But I think that this re-framing of political issues in terms of communities rather than nations is a helpful idea. Author M. Scott Peck, a Christian psychotherapist, is mostly known for his book ‘The Road Less Travelled’. He has also written about community in a book entitled, ‘The Different Drum’. Peck discusses various stages of ‘building community’. When people first meet together, there is polite conversation. People more or less have their defences raised. When they make statements these are usually generalised – people seldom refer directly to themselves. If a group stays together for longer, and especially if it sets about carrying out some communal task, then before long chaos ensues! For Peck, this is the critical moment. At this stage, the group will either go forward into a deeper sharing and – so far as he believes – thereby form community, or otherwise it will try to resolve the chaos by imposing an administrative order – forming a committee or a bureaucracy. The committee state then allows the group to carry out its functions without individuals having to lower their usual personal defences. Community by contrast, according to Peck, is a state of ‘brokenness’. The hearts of the community members are open to each other and there is a deep sense of sharing. When I first encountered these views it was with a sense of both familiarity and some horror! However, after a while two points became clear. The first is that what Peck describes as community might better be described by another word – perhaps by ‘fellowship’ – the close personal bonds that one might hope could exist in say a spiritual community. The second point is that Peck has set up a polarity. Either a group will form a community or it will form a committee. In reality, every group of people is on a spectrum somewhere between these two extremes. The most bureaucratically controlled workplace – a call centre perhaps, or a parcel sorting office – must surely retain some vestige of community. (I could be wrong!) Meanwhile, a monastery must have some kind of rules to organise daily chores for instance, or times of worship. How do we cope with living in community? A first take might be to adopt some attitude within oneself which in turn would allow good functioning within any community context. On an individual basis, it’s good to hold community lightly. It’s beneficial to recognise that each individual is living their own story and might not be too aware of the personal stories of others. In a similar vein, we each live partly in the stories of our wider culture. So, behaviour can often seem paradoxical. It’s easy to find this frustrating. But a better way, I suggest, is to see the opportunities for humour that this affords us. All of this, of course, is to be done with a great deal of gentleness an din the spirit of always building others up and giving them, not just the benefit of the doubt, but opportunities to flourish. Can we scale this up then to look at a community and how it might relate to a wider context, a wider community? How does a home (single household, partnership, family, group of friends) relate to neighbourhood? The scale-up of course eventually becomes culture and civil society. At the moment – in many nations, if not all – we have little or no say in the politics of what happens, even at a local level, let alone for towns, cities, the countryside and the nation as a whole. Without the autonomy and agency to be ourselves, the notion of community remains quite an abstract thing – a place to talk about alternatives rather than to physically make them happen. Governments of all stripes go out of their way to keep their electorate docile and subservient – either through mindless entertainment as a distraction, or via actual suppression of free speech, autonomy, agency and personal freedom. Were this ever to change then it has to be admitted that the results could be chaotic and downright terrifying! We might quickly conclude that massive state control isn’t such a bad thing after all. But others will quickly counter, given time then things would settle down. There would be new customs, rituals and ways of doing things and civil society might be very much richer and better. For community to mean anything it has to have political freedom, first and foremost. To organise ourselves and to physically build things and work on things together – that’s the making of community. Culture, by contrast, whilst it is certainly shared by communities, is often about personal enjoyment. Celebration is important, but community that’s just for pleasure is not going to deliver the satisfaction that true autonomy can bring. Turning now to the broadest of contexts, to Nature. Deep Ecologist writer Joanna Macey says that our starting point in relating to the Universe should be Gratitude. The Earth has given us life and hopefully also health. She provides our food and everything else we rely on for our continued existence. Perhaps you could stretch this and call it providence – or even grace. As I’ve said before, I think we can believe in grace even without any religious affiliations. Somehow life exists and thrives despite all the odds stacked against it. Somehow too, especially when we are engaged in some creative activity (which is most of the time) – there is a strength that seems to come from beyond ourselves. I think it is not a good idea to presume to know the origin of this grace. I think it is better if it is considered part of the mystery of life – of which nothing can be said. However, I do believe that we can try to be the means of grace in the world. This would be a true and pragmatic form of spirituality – not abstract and other-worldly, but rooted in the here and now. This widest of wide idea should, I think, be the starting point for thinking about community. And there is one further factor that I think should be included and that’s celebration. One writer has said that any project which is not at least one third celebration is doomed to fail. I mention celebration because there seems so little of it around us! The normal way that work and much else in our society is organised seems to leave it out of the equation. Religious festivals have just become an excuse for consumer excesses. There is a great need for celebration in all aspects of life – from daily meals through school and work, to spirituality.