Headwinds
My work on our neighbourhood association reached its climax in 2017. At that point, in partnership with the housing authority, we ran elections throughout the neighbourhood, resulting in 62 delegates representing each of the 31 residential buildings in Regent Park. My colleague and I were ecstatic, our neighbourhood association was launched, and exhausted, we stepped back to let a newly elected leadership team take over. But we quit too soon – and left behind a group that was too weak to thrive.
Our failure forced me to learn – and what I learned was the centrality of community-building. Community should have been our focus right from the start. If we had helped our volunteers feel more accepted at our meetings and more valued for their efforts, we would have both gained more help and later passed on a more viable group.
So I started to read about community, beginning with sociologist Robert Putnam's classic text, Bowling Alone (Putnam, 2000). Reporting on extensive research, his book recounts how social connections in the United States had declined over the previous 40 years. I've lived through those years, and I knew there was less volunteering. Yet I had never realized how all-encompassing this surge of social disconnection had become, impacting every aspect of life – politics and civic engagement, religious gatherings, workplace connections, and informal get-togethers. Putnam blames this trend on such societal shifts as changing work structures, suburban sprawl, and the rise of TV and mass media. And he concludes that this tidal wave of "bowling alone" has weakened our entire society.
Next, I turned to a newer book: Vivek Murthy's Together (Murthy, V., 2020). In the twenty years since Putnam's massive research, the causal shifts that had weakened community have intensified – our jobs are less secure, our commutes longer, and our social media cannot substitute for authentic face-to-face interaction. But unlike Putnam, Murthy approaches social connection not as a sociologist but as Surgeon General of the United States. He began his job by touring the country and listening to the health concerns of ordinary people. They told him the usual list – diabetes and hypertension, obesity and opioid addiction – but what surprised him was the dark thread of social isolation that ran throughout these conversations. Loneliness, he found, had become an epidemic. In diagnosing the cause, Murthy examines the stress caused by our individualistic and self-reliant culture – and for this, he prescribes a strong dose of togetherness.
Finally, I read Wildland: The Making of America's Fury, by journalist Evan Osnos (Osnos, 2021). His book surveys how the political, economic, and cultural landscape of the United States changed in the twenty years, from the Twin Towers attack on September 11, 2001, to the US Capitol assault on January 6, 2021. To do this, he focuses on three cities to which he had personal connections: Greenwich, Connecticut, an enclave of mega-wealthy financiers; Clarksburg, West Virginia, a declining working-class town scarred by bankrupt coal mines and environmental degradation; and southside Chicago, a violent and neglected area of marginalized blacks and Hispanics. Through countless interviews, Osnos paints a disturbing picture of a divided society. On the one side, are elites so insulated by their extraordinary advantages that they underestimate the harms caused by their self-serving economic and political decisions. Meanwhile, on the other side, as the lives of the marginalized become more untenable, they become increasingly distrustful, resentful, and enraged – a situation exacerbated by the pandemic.
While none of these books looks specifically at the Canadian situation, we all know that American trends and attitudes blow relentlessly over the border, intensifying our own society's storms. As a result, we, too, now live in an increasingly divided, confrontational, and angry culture. In such an environment, community comes under increasing threat.
Regent Park is not exempt from these headwinds. After facing decades of discrimination, it is unsurprising that some social housing tenants resent sharing space with revitalization's surge of new condo residents. For them, even though the income gap may be relatively small, these newcomers open up a highly-charged inequity of power – and it takes only one or two angry voices to stir up antipathy. Meanwhile, it remains challenging to involve condo dwellers in their new neighbourhood. When asked to join, their usual response is, "I'm too busy." And so, for the most part, they live oblivious to their neighbours.
Not only is our society divided, but our culture has become aggressive, uncompromising, and shrill. As a result, a vicious remark at a meeting or a nasty smear online can tear apart relationships like a tornado, to say nothing of the ongoing destruction caused by infighting and gossip. It seems that our all-too-human flaws of fear and pride – flaws that frequently damage community – have now become a roaring hurricane.
Yet, despite these headwinds, I believe that community is the way forward. So even if we only sometimes glimpse the surprising gifts that togetherness can bring, we need to keep going. And when it’s difficult, we need to remember some of our neighbourhood's amazing community-builders – and like them, take it "slow and steady," engage in "deep listening," and make ample use of "the glue of kindness."