The PPS Dispatch_007
The home-ification of everything and the weight of the accumulating connection debt
Every day, we come across stories of people and places that inspire our thinking and actions. The PPS Dispatch is our way to capture, share, and make sense of what we are seeing and hearing within different places and communities. These signals resonate with us and inform our work, which is focused on creating resilient organizations, communities and places.
Our homes and how we interface with our communities
We live in a part of the country where many people gather with their friends and neighbors by hosting backyard parties. Picture a midsized town in the midwest. People here love to host BBQs and pool parties, and often they have play structures and trampolines in their backyards for the kids to play.
I love this kind of gathering. In fact, it was one thing I really fell in love with when we first moved here after having lived in many large metropolitan cities like Berlin (Germany), Toronto (Canada), and Nashville, TN (USA). I love hosting people at our home, and I love being hosted by friends and community members in their homes.
But I also started to notice how shifting our social life to private spaces has a direct impact on how I interface with my broader community. It means fewer run-ins with neighborhood acquaintances on the way home and fewer bump-ins with neighbors, friends, and could-be friends.
And maybe this is connected to a broader trend. Lately, I’ve noticed a barrage of advertisements for all sorts of new recreation and wellness gadgets for the home.
“Never go out for pizza again—buy this new pizza oven and make the best pizza at home.”
“You can now make your own professional-quality ice cream at home with the newest Ninja ice cream maker.”
“Buy this backyard trampoline for endless kid entertainment.”
“Get the newest play structures and bring the playground to your own backyard.” (Some of these are bigger than the urban playgrounds I grew up playing on)
And of course all things wellness. “Sick of sharing the gym equipment? You too can build your own in-home spa complete with sauna, hot tub, and personal gym. Buy now!”
These are presented as tools that everyone should have in their homes (of course, that’s not true, BUT convenience, luxury, comfort, and “you deserve this”). While I can’t say that I don’t appreciate the ease and convenience of some of these luxuries, I’ve been wondering lately: what is the cost when all these social community activities shift from the public realm into private homes?
I am starting to see the cost of this shift. It’s a hard pill to swallow for me personally, as I am quite introverted, and I value the ability to exercise, make coffee, and cook for friends and family in my home. But I can’t escape the sinking feeling that more and more things that I would have done as a participant in my broader community are now moving into the realm of the private home.
What we gain and what we loose
What happens when we continue filling our homes with stuff that was part of our shared environment and recreate private versions just for ourselves and a select group of people? What happens when everything becomes home-ified? What do we lose when we shift shared and communal activities into private spaces?
More stuff means we need more space. This means bigger lot sizes, bigger homes, fewer starter homes and people stuck in mansions even though the size of the average household keeps decreasing. From 1950 to 2017, the number or people per household in the US has decreased from 3.8 to 2.5 while the square footage of living space per person has increased from 292 to 1012, a 3.5 increase (Data via Eric Kronberg of Kronberg Urbanists and Architects)
Bigger homes, bigger lots and less density. As home and lot sizes increase we lose the benefits of living in dense, walkable cities with amenities, access to multimodal transportation and shared public spaces. We also see increased costs from urban sprawl and car-centric developments.
We have to maintain houses full of stuff. We become tied to our gigantic houses filled with stuff, which costs a lot to maintain and makes it harder to downsize. Its harder to go from more to less.
Local businesses suffer. When everyone has their own gym, spa, playground and ability to make all foods and drinks in their homes, they will not patronize local businesses who deliver those services or products - leading to the loss of a local business ecosystem.
Loss of weak ties and bridging social capital. When we have everything in our home, we don’t leave our home. And we don’t bump into people outside of our "circle,” and are no longer exposed to community members who come from different cultural, political, and socio-economic backgrounds—we lose what researchers call bridging social capital. We have fewer serendipitous encounters in the gym, the local community center, the coffeeshop, at the playground, or on the sidewalk.
Loss of connection and community responsibility. And maybe most importantly, we focus on creating places only for ourselves, more so than for and with others in our communities. We feel less connection and responsibility to our neighbors and our broader community. We enter into a doom-loop of fewer patrons at local businesses, public spaces and third spaces → less investment into those spaces → loss of those spaces → even fewer patrons to those spaces... and the loop continues.
We don’t invest in public spaces and resources. We no longer gift attention, energy, and resources that are needed to create and nurture public spaces and community resources. This means less money, people, and connection for these kinds of spaces.
The delayed cost of the home-ification of everything
This home-ification carries a cost for our communities that is starting to become more and more visible as we see the loss of public and third spaces, access to transportation, walkable neighborhoods, and social infrastructure. We lose place capital when we remove opportunities for serendipitous encounters, for accidental neighborhood hang-outs, and for being around people different from ourselves and our immediate circle.
The American dream of ownership and individualism that we were sold comes with a cost for our communities. Of course, we have gained a lot. But often we are blinded by the short-term benefits, while the cost only becomes visible with time. So, as our houses get bigger and bigger, filled with more and more things, we are starting to feel the weight of the connection-debt we have accumulated over time.
What if we could see the value of friction in leaving our homes and being part of a community (which helps build trust, connection, and identity through collaboration)? What happens when we feel the joy of experiencing true neighborliness and participating in the beautiful, messy experience of being in community with others? How might we help more people experience the benefits of shared public spaces and dense urban living?
I believe it’s about widening the circle instead of tightening it. It’s about less for just “me” and more for “all of us." It’s about investing (in all sense of the word) in shared spaces instead of individual ownership. With time, we will see what we gain in return when we do that…
As always, hit reply if anything sparks a thought or question. Thanks for coming along!
Lena