Results tagged “community” from Uncivil Society

Recent news articles about Obama's post-ideological pragmatism got me thinking back to the turn of the 19th/20th centuries, when pragmatic philosophy rose as an alternative to philosophical idealism. John Dewey is probably the most familiar pragmatic thought leader in the public realm, but he was far from alone. You can see the semantic traces of this movement throughout political and philanthropic writing from that era.

For example, check out this 1915 book on civic ritual by poet, playwright and social theorist Percy MacKaye. It may seem quaint now, but back in the day it was quite radical, both theoretically and in practice. A number of its core themes--inclusive equality, social design, a shift from consumption to participation, --are values now seen as cutting-edge. MacKaye's argument, down to his explanation of the role of "symbolic dance," reflects his pragmatic perspective. It's especially evident in passages such as this--note the references to crafts, form and plasticity:

Three ventures that have been integral to maintaining a sense of community, all gone or about to leave. This post on Jeremiah's Vanishing NY is a poignant illustration of how the City is changing.

Turn the kaleidoscope, and a local mall transforms from a commodified conformist culture-free zone into a nexus of community:

Both Birnbrey and Susan Wachter, professor with University of Pennsylvania's Wharton Real Estate Department, warn the social and economic impact of empty stores can be devastating.

"One of the biggest consequences [of store and mall closings] is the loss of a sense of community," Birnbrey said. "I am a big believer that malls are an essential part of Americana. A mall is a place where people gather and socialize."

Birnbey is an industry rep, but his point is nonetheless valid--malls are social spaces, and a well-designed mall builds on our tendency to connect. A number of malls, however, are designed as if their sole function is to line up a strip of stores, and my thoroughly uninformed guess would be that these are the most vulnerable.

Susan Wachter has done lots of interesting work on real estate, economics and society, such as this 2005 article on The American Mortgage in Historical and International Context.

"So many years, so many changes, with Fortuna wending through them like Theseus' thread."

That's what I wrote back in February when Cafe La Fortuna closed its doors for the last time. Ten months later, I still regularly find myself about to suggest another trip uptown for coffee and community, only to remember that it is gone.  Today, it's on my mind because Newsday has posted a nice commemorative photo gallery. 

Every so often I hear a sincere nonprofiteer going on about how for-profits are corrosive while nonprofits propagate social values.  At times like that I think about Fortuna . . . and the contractor who saw his work on homes as a way to build community . . and the auto mechanic whose passion for learning--and personal library--rivaled that of the professors and grad students who flocked to chat with him at his garage.

In this week's PostSecret:

Another example of why I don't like to draw absolute moral distinctions between social enterprise and the so-called for-profit sector:

From the Aurea to the Sense and Simplicity showcase, Philips has really immersed itself in light technology and pretty, soothing environments. The company has now expanded that to provide an interactive light display for the brand new Mercy Medical Centre in Rogers, Arkansas.

The installation, displayed in the Women's and Children's waiting area, is a 14-ft long, 6ft-high canvas that uses touchscreen technology to animate 1,420 LEDs. Each 'painting' a visitor produces last for a few minutes before fading away, and up to six 'artists' can make their mark at a time.

For more, check out the always illuminating Shiny Shiny.

Last night was tough. Not the Oscars--didn't see the movies, had no personal connection. What really got me was seeing the end of Cafe La Fortuna, a place that, for me at least, has long been synonymous with New York.

How long have I been going there?  Here's a clue: it was a cherished haunt back when I was writing my Ph.D. dissertation.  So many years, so many changes, with Fortuna wending through them like Theseus' thread. 

Places like this are one reason why I bristle at attempts to draw a moral distinction between social enterprise and for-profit business.  The opera music playing in the background, the magical  garden out back, the decades of historic Met memorabilia decorating the walls--Cafe La Fortuna was a social benefit, a transformative space that brought people together in a refuge from the rush of the now. 

But if you look at the obituaries, you'll also see why this community had begun to dissipate before Fortuna's all too sudden closure.  That John Lennon was a regular was always quietly in the background, with the occasional John & Yoko photo mixed in with the Carusos.  In recent years, though, new owners decided to shift the cafe's identity in an apparent attempt to attract more tourists. After the renovation Lennon souvenirs popped up everywhere--music, displays, wall hangings, even a big screen TV looping his videos & bio. 

Fading in the mix: the very communal atmosphere that drew Lennon there years ago.

Even after the shift to Planet Lennon Cafe La Fortuna remained a special space; you just screened out what ownership felt it had to do to bring in a few extra bucks.  Nonetheless, as has been noted by others, the number of customers was declining, with the regulars themselves conspicuously drifting away. Now that Fortuna is gone, what we'll miss is not the John tchotchkes or the Yoko wall, but that inestimable feeling of a place apart.

Here's an example of altruistic action you won't find in your average celebration of charitable virtue: sharing dirty jokes to cheer up someone's dying grandmother. One for the road:

My grandmother loved naughty stories. She told me this when I was in junior high.

A man with a pet duck goes into a bar and orders a drink, but the bartender says, "No pets allowed." So the guy goes outside, stuffs the duck in his pants and returns for a beer or two. Next he's sleepy and decides to have a nap in the theater next door....

A couple comes in and sits next to the snoozing drunk, who has unzipped his pants to give the duck some air. The woman, who is sitting next to him says, "Frank! the man next to me is exposing himself!" Frank says, "Just don't look, don't make a fuss, you'll only encourage him." "Well OK," she says, "but it's eating my popcorn."

Requiescat in pace.

Today I've trekked below the surface to a cavern with hidden knowledge of things beyond. In other words, I'm at SIBL--the Science, Industry & Business Library of the NYC public library system. It's a pretty good place to find bizlit, free databases and--most importantly--free wireless & abundant outlets.

I've usually work in my office on weekends, but occasionally this is a tad better, basically because it's not devoid of people; there's something about being in an empty highrise for a couple days that can feel a bit too I Am Legend for my taste. Then there's also the little matter of the place saving money by cutting off lights and heating . . . .

The one thing I dislike about libraries: they're too %#$@! quiet. So on my earphones now, as all week: a repeating loop of Reefer Madness, a film that, like South Park, nails the dark side of using crowd psychology to promote civic virtue.

Quoth Gifthub:

Unless Community Foundations add more more value, and emphasize relationships, local presence, and ideals, they will find Fidelity and other financial intermediaries tough competition.

Bingo. The philanthropic landscape has evolved in ways that many community foundations--indeed, many charities--have yet to grasp. While charities are redefining themselves in commercial terms, the most successful businesses are highlighting their noncommercial values. The result is a market environment in which charity all too often appears ill-adapted on both fronts, with business-speak unmatched by business savvy and a nonprofit identity that seems compromised.

If a charity is to compete, its value-added lies in being both more effective and transcendent. A difficult and delicate task, to be sure, but one we ignore to our peril.

Tonight I decided to take a break from my research by clicking around the Unbridled Acts of Kindness campaign run by the Red Robin hamburger chain. I went into it with my usual perpendicular mindset, reflecting on how the company had leveraged altruism and community to build its own brand.

Then I read this email from a customer, and the PR stuff became painfully human:

Yesterday we had a little outing to go buy some new shoes for my daughter. We were at the store looking at shoes and my daughter seemed to be actually a little interested in something for once but not at the level she should've been. A young lady, wearing a Red Robin shirt, was in the aisle with us looking for shoes as her phone rang. As she was digging in her purse to answer it, a necklace and a bunch of pins fell out. My daughter bent down to pick them up for her, but just held on to them looking at all of the things on it. The lady put her phone away and asked her if she thought those were pretty cool. My daughter nodded yes. The young lady asked what happened to her arm. A pretty innocent question for the most part; with kids you just think they fell off their bike or something. I braced myself for my daughter to shut down and just shrug but she said, "My daddy got mad. And now we live in someone else’s house that’s why we're buying me shoes." While most people would've gotten embarrassed or changed the subject, the lady responded, "I'm sorry that had to happen to you. But you've still got your mom and that’s something to be happy about." Then my daughter looked at her and asked if she ever got sad. The girl said yes. There was a few seconds of silence and my daughter said "What do you do when you're sad?" The young lady told her that whenever she gets sad she thinks of something or looks at something that makes her happy. My daughter replied, "Like ice cream?" The lady laughed and said that if that made her happy then she sure could try it.

My daughter said she didn't have any special things to look at. So the young lady told my daughter to pick something of hers that she likes the best and that whenever she gets sad she can think of the happy time that she went to buy shoes with her mom. My daughter picked three pins and the girl handed them over to her. My daughter just held on to them and she smiled at me for the first time in weeks.

That moment changed something in my daughter. Maybe it was the right time, maybe it was the lady’s friendly smile, or maybe my daughter really did just need something physical to remind her to smile. Whatever happened, my daughter and I spent the best evening together and I put her to bed and she had those her pins pinned on the edge of her pillowcase. This woman has no idea what she did. I wish I hadn't been frozen watching this so I could've asked her name or pulled her aside and told her that was the most my daughter had spoken in two weeks. I wished this woman could know how she just made our life a little bit better during a really hard time.

No, this isn't about latte lotharios who hit on coffee-drinking women sitting alone, although that can be interesting to watch. Rather, it's part of a new strategy for battling depression in twenty-somethings:

Realizing that primitive societies like the Kaluli of Papua New Guinea experience virtually no depression, Stephen Ilardi, an associate professor of psychology at the University of Kansas, is now testing a cave-man-esque approach to treatment with promising results. His 14-week Therapeutic Lifestyle Change program entails large doses of simulated hunter-gatherer living in people suffering from prolonged, unremitting depression. Participants sign up for 35 minutes of aerobic exercise (running, walking briskly, biking) three days a week, at least 30 minutes of daily sunlight or exposure from a light box that emits 10,000 lux, eight hours of sleep per night, and a daily fish oil supplement containing 1,000 mg of the fatty acid EPA and 500 mg of the fatty acid DHA.

They also get plenty of time surrounded by the “clan,” in the form of frequent social gatherings with family members, Starbucks dates with friends, and volunteer work. “Hunter-gatherers almost never had time alone,” says Ilardi; even a generation or two ago, people grew up supported by extended family and much more engaged with their community. Too much time in isolation, he says, means “opportunities to ruminate,” the modern scourge.

As the always thought-provoking Neuroanthropology blog observes,

Comparing a Starbucks date to life as a cave-man seems absurd. But it certainly sounds like a healthier and more holistic treatment than what goes on in traditional psychiatric institutions.