Design Flaws in Human Connection: Language, Culture and the Built Environment

Stranger implies something not known, or other. What would happen if we called new people something else? Would we be more inclined to connect with one another? Language influences action. Calling something a rule implies hierarchy and a right and wrong. Calling something an agreement implies communal/egalitarian communication and balance. I recall once hearing on a podcast that perhaps if we called taxes something else (something not taxing) then people would be more inclined to pay in. “Communal Support” has a nice ring to it. Although yes of course, I realize not all taxes support local communities. Either way, language is important, and it influences our behavior with each other and feelings within ourselves.

Let’s look, for example, at the word vulnerability. Some sects of society and corners of social media are encouraging vulnerability. To be open with one another. But the word vulnerability literally is defined as “the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.” I don’t know about you but that framework does not feel encouraging to open up, if there is the potential for harm embedded in the action. I also think for some it makes us believe that in order to be “vulnerable” we have to share something incredibly private or personal. While I believe we should be able to share anything with *most* people, and that many “taboo” things should not be taboo, I wonder if the very nature of the word causes us to push ourselves into territory we may not be comfortable sharing on a public platform (i.e., social media) in order to prove that we are being “vulnerable”. Hence the vulnerability hangover. I will note, I have shared some very personal things online, and I have learned and appreciated so much from others sharing their ‘vulnerabilities’. I have experienced pros and cons of sharing deeply personal things on a public platform. My aim is to be open about my experiences in the hopes that others can relate and find it helpful. But it may not be helpful to myself, and the way in which it is shared may not actually be helpful to others. Jury’s still out on that one.

When I think of how we use “vulnerability” as a means of forming connection, I wonder if we are limited in scope of what it means to connect with others. It’s not all or nothing. Like when people say “I hate small talk.” The underlying idea is that they’re not really connecting with someone through small talk. But is the only alternative means of connecting through vulnerability? These are some ideas I’m still pondering, so bear with me if you do not agree or think differently. Small talk is a bridge that can lead you to the big talk. When striking up a conversation with someone new, “small talk” offers a way to show you are interested in that person and want to get to know them more. In time you can develop stronger relationships. Maybe the type of talk isn’t the issue and more problematic is our resistance to getting to know other people or having the awareness that someone is trying to connect with us.

I wonder if we are all so starved for social connection that we aren’t jumping to “big talk” because we’re in dire need of depth, of connection, of care. I also question if we have lost some of our social skills, collectively, due to our decreased level of socialization as a culture. But, you might be asking, have we really gone down in socialization? Sure, during covid we’re definitely socializing less, but what about pre-covid? You may or may not be aware of this but yes, Americans typically do not socialize as much as we used to. We have fewer friends, we go out less, we are around others, but feel more alone than ever. Researcher Julianne Holt-Lunstad has found that loneliness influences our mental and physical health. Together by Vivek Murthy and Loneliness by John T. Cacioppo go in depth to talk about loneliness, the state of social connection in the United States, and how important it is to connect with people. As I read the research on loneliness, I question if our social skills have diminished as a result of fewer interactions. Are you socially anxious because you were born that way or is it because as a culture we were never learning social skills all that well to begin with? Are you an introvert or are we in a place culturally where socialization is draining because we generally get so little of it that when we experience it, the sensations are overwhelming, so we retreat into our bubbles to recuperate because it’s a lot for our nervous systems and bodies to adapt to after long periods without? I am not trying to say introversion doesn’t exist. I’ve tried saying that before and the literature/research proves me wrong. But as someone who was labeled an introvert for a long time but is now much more extroverted (and has a lot more social interaction than I did as a child growing up in rural Vermont), I do question the framework in which we live and how it leads to the development of these labels. Also, I identify as an ambivert. Socially and personally somewhere in the middle of the introvert/extrovert scale. We’ll put the introvert/extrovert debate to the side, but I want to again ask, why are we socializing less? The culprit we tend to point to is technology. And yes, we are spending a lot of time on our phones “socializing” when we could be connecting in person. But I think the problem goes deeper to a few aspects of design in our social environment and physical environment.

First of all, there is a big emphasis on the nuclear family and romantic partners in the United States. Americans are primarily monogamous, and have a very strong narrative around romantic love with a single partner. The soulmate. When we find a partner, we tend to spend less time with friends and as we get older we tend to rely solely on a single partner for most of our social needs. If they separate from that partner, many people are left isolated, without many friends. When in that relationship, most Americans form the nuclear family. Mom, Dad (or variations of the one/two parent model) with kids. The majority of time is spent with this small unit. In the US, we typically spend much less time with grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles etc. And while the kids and parents may have friends, the circles tend to be small and time spent with friends is inconsistent and/or rare. Children do see each other at school but outside of school there isn’t a lot of interaction. Not just children but teenagers, adults, elderly adults, all groups are getting less social interaction than we used to. And it’s having a huge effect on our individual and collective happiness and well-being. The underlying American culture does not understand the importance of friendships, and thus doesn’t put emphasis on it. Boys in particular do not spend as much time together due to fears of friendships diminishing their masculinity, or making them gay due to indoctrinated homophobia. And it’s not just the boys themselves, there is a lot of external pressure on boys and men to be emotionally distant, stoic, and unattached. It’s not just men though, women as well have shown to socialize less than they did even ten years ago. American culture puts so much influence on school and career, depending on the phase of life you’re in. So, whether you’re a child, young adult or older, the free time you have is dedicated to being a more productive human. The productivity hamster wheel relates to the deeply embedded cultural systems of individualism, and capitalism, both as a structural economic force and a social influence related to status, accomplishment and individual “growth”/ ”progress”. Capitalism and individualism want you to focus on yourself and see others only as competition or a means of making your production better, so that you can continue to produce for the system. As a result, we miss out on opportunities to connect romantically, platonically, in family and “loose ties” throughout a community. “I have to focus on my career, I have to focus on myself, before I can…” is one of many potential starting points leading to a place of disconnection and discontent.

The last thing I will touch on is the built environment. How we connect with each other is in part reliant on our physical proximity with one another. Most communities are not designed in such a way to connect with other people. One of the biggest contributing factors is our dependence on cars. The design of our neighborhoods has to accommodate for constant driving. This means that a massive amount of a neighborhood’s space is dedicated to roads, and generally drivers get priority in design measures over pedestrians. This diminishes the likelihood that people will walk in their neighborhood and strike up a conversation or connect with other people. The nature of car culture also means that you will be using the car to drive to work, and it is highly likely work will not be close. So, while a car makes it ‘convenient’ to get to that location, we have designed communities so that work places are farther and farther away from where we live, leading to a lot of “free” time being spent in cars. This diminishes the amount of time we could put towards socializing. Not to mention being in traffic is exhausting and taxing on our bodies, so when we get home we focus on our families or “unwind” with solitary television and technology. We may even see it as a means of connection, getting on social media to “connect” with others. Most people find time spent with friends to be enjoyable but t’s likely our friends don’t live in the same neighborhood, and so the idea of driving back out to see people seems like so much effort. Or maybe you have responsibilities at home, and going to meet friends is seen as frivolous when you need to be focusing on your family. (My question is why can’t we do both simultaneously). When you are at work, it’s unlikely that you do much socializing, after all you’re there to work, not make friends, right? Most workplaces either outright discourage talking and connecting with coworkers, and the design of the workplace does not encourage connection. Physical work spaces lack communal areas to connect with others. Or “break time” is severely limited. The built environment, the spaces we move through and how we are able to move through them, influence the behavioral choices we can and will make. Social connection does not happen simply through a desire to do so. The environment needs to nurture and feed the desire, make space for people to come together, again and again. In communal spaces where people can let their guard down. Maybe that’s in a space connected to work, but separate, where you get to know coworkers on a deeper level, or other people who work close by. Or maybe it looks like communal spaces in neighborhoods, and redesigning neighborhoods to make people a priority, rather than cars.

Community and connection don’t magically appear overnight. There are a lot of intersecting factors influencing the choices we make, the beliefs we have, and the opportunities to bridge the divide with others. Whether it’s through the words we use, the culture we are enveloped in and pass on to others, or in the maze of physical spaces molding our movements to and fro. There are several other factors, too. It’s an intricate web. But it’s clear to me that we are at a tipping point. Our bodies, brains and minds need more connection and we’re making feeble attempts to change the narrative, but we need more. I want to talk about these things so we can learn how to be open. Maybe not always vulnerable, but open. Open to conversation, connection, a shifting, a change.

References:

The Great Good Place, Ray Oldenburg 1999

Together, Vivek Murthy 2020

Loneliness, John T. Cacioppo, 2008

Deep Friendships, Niobe Way 2011

Happy Cities, Charles Montgomery, 2013