Kia ora e te whānau,
Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about third spaces. If you’re not familiar with the term, here’s a quick definition: if the home is our primary, ‘first space’ where we spend time, and work/school/university is our ‘second space’, then what is our third? It should be somewhere we feel able to relax and connect with others.
What a third space looks like varies from person to person – it is, you could say, as diverse as first and second spaces – but throughout society the trend is ubiquitous: the use of third spaces is far less common than it used to be. Unsurprisingly, this is a problem. If we’re going straight from work to home, and vice versa, then we’re likely not getting much of a chance to enrich our lives through time spent with others, in the community. Time and again, we as an organisation have seen the sobering effects that this type of isolation has on people – it is, in short, awful for our mental health.
At Waimanako, we express the importance of this through the metaphor of the ‘watering hole’ – the place where people gather together socially, often for a common purpose. Having a watering hole is a key component of our wellbeing; not only can we interact with others, but by doing so regularly, we are also looking after one-another without even realising it. You notice when a regular at the proverbial watering hole doesn’t show up; it may prompt you to ask after them. You notice when that regular does show up, but clearly isn’t doing so well, and you talk things through with them. If this regular isn’t a regular at all and is only oscillating between home and work, who’s going to notice that things are wrong? Who’s going to step in and help them out? Clinical services won’t engage unless the (non)regular’s problems are acute, or if they have a diagnosable condition (although the latter requires a lengthy wait). Their problems aren’t ‘serious enough’ for medical attention, and so in their view, no one cares. Or perhaps they’re the type who simply wouldn’t dream of asking for help, and rely entirely on those at the watering hole to spot the changes. If they do reach that crisis point, we can only hope that they do engage with those services which ignored them until now. In essence, we lack the social safety net we once had.
But why?
In the sociological classic Bowling Alone (a favourite text of mine, and one I like to reference a lot), Robert Putnam investigates this very question. The book’s title references the fact that ‘once we bowled in leagues, usually after work – but no longer. This seemingly small phenomenon symbolises a significant social change’. One of the things that I love about this book is that it was published in 2000, yet seemingly becomes more relevant with every year. At the time, Putnam attributed this decline in community primarily to TV use. Which doesn’t bode well for all of the technology which has sprouted up and become integral to our lives in the 25 years since.
Naturally, social media, phone use – all of the classics – play a role here. We humans are absolute suckers for convenience – and what’s more convenient than doing everything from the comfort of your own home? Right now, I am in fact working from home, because it’s significantly less of a hassle than getting everything I need together for a trip into the office. I can do this, thanks to the advent of laptops and Wi-Fi. My kitchen is right there – I don’t need to prepare lunch in advance – and I even have the comfort of my own toilet. I often find myself guilty of a similar resort to convenience: living with my partner, I find myself neglecting the need for friendships, because I’m spending the large majority of my time with my best friend anyway (great in theory, not recommended in practise: friends are fantastic).
The detrimental role of social media is a surprise to no one, however. Personally, I’m far more interested in the other contributing factors, which include:
- A constantly escalating cost of living, mixed with the commercialisation of public spaces. It’s hard to find many things to do outside of the house that don’t cost money – and a lot of us don’t have the funds to cover that. Sure, you may have been able to see a movie for less than a dollar once upon a time, but $20 per person plus refreshments isn’t an appealing charge. In the past, one income was designed to be enough for a family of four to live well (and afford a house). Nowadays, two incomes are barely enough, which leads me to the fact that…
- We’re all doing what we can to survive – and for many, that means working beyond sustainable means. When you’re exhausted from a week of work, what appeals more? Going out to play bowling, or staying in and switching your brain off whilst you enjoy offerings from leagues of streaming services? Putnam also acknowledges the role of this factor.
- Urban sprawl – another factor included in Putnam’s analysis. Unless you live in the CBD and/or have access to a car, it’s a pain to get anywhere. Even if you do have a car, you may dread facing traffic. New Plymouth is far from a walkable city. I sorely miss the days when I lived in central Auckland – it wasn’t the nicest apartment, but near everything I could possibly want was accessible via a short walk; and if it wasn’t, then there would be a bus arriving within 15 minutes to take me there; and if the buses didn’t quite line up how I liked, there were mostly humane cycle routes available instead.
- Rampant inequality and social hardship. The Spirit Level – another sociological favourite of mine – details in great depth how social inequality results in worse outcomes for everyone, including those in the richer echelons of society, because it damages the very fabric of society. Amongst other things, inequality leads to desperation, crime, polarisation, distrust, and alienation – that is, a whole host of ailments which make interaction with wider society appear greatly unappealing. Unfortunately, it also drives great engagement with news and social media – and exploiting these stressors is a near-guaranteed vote winner for politicians, so these harms are also being significantly magnified at present.
- The Covid pandemic – another classic to blame. Those months of self-isolation and lockdown instilled in us a new impetus to stay inside – one from which we are really struggling to recover.
- Rising rates of mental health issues – this one’s a bit of a vicious cycle! Loneliness and isolation are major contributors toward mental ill health, and the latter makes social interaction much more difficult by, for example, sapping your energy and destroying your confidence in your social ability.
Suffice to say that a diverse range of societal malaises fuel this problem, but ultimately it all comes down to our much more atomised society. I recently read George Orwell’s Keep the Aspidistra Flying, which was written in 1936. It appears to depict society as it really was back then, notably from the perspective of someone stated to be living on ‘two pounds a week’ (about $270 NZD by modern standards – the inflation since the time this novel was written was rather horrifying to consider). The lack of entertainment available to the protagonist fascinated me. If bored, he would walk the streets of London for miles, go to the pub, or bother his friends. At one point, in an attempt to illustrate the low point this character had reached, the author has him reading trashy paperback after trashy paperback – something that, by our standards, would be considered a half-decent waste of time.
Fortunately, this character had a social safety net – other characters who noted his behaviour and managed to pull him back out again. What if there had been no one to help him? We don’t need to ask; the story tells us. His intention was to sink into homelessness, and possibly imprisonment. Instead, he ended up with a family and a well-paying job. And the focus of this book wasn’t even on the importance of community!
But enough despair about the rotten state of things. How can we improve them, instead? The first step is simple: pure awareness. Is there a third space that you frequent? Think of places you might go to in order to interact with others and, ultimately, relax. Is there one? If not, how might you be able to find one?
Some ideas might include:
- Waimanako, of course! That’s why we’re here; we offer not only a social space but free workshops and support groups
- Trying out group exercise, finding a gym buddy, or even just heading to the gym without your headphones
- Finding a local park or beach you enjoy, noting your fellow regulars, and striking up a conversation with them
- Frequenting a local coffee shop that appeals to you
- Seeking out a hobbyist or interest group such as a book club, activist movement, tabletop gaming group, or a sports club
- If you work remotely, trying a co-working space, the library, or a cafe
- Taking a course in something new – WITT offers a number of free courses
- Browsing Facebook events to see what’s coming up in your area. Seriously, you can find so many cool things
- Forcing yourself into the outdoors when things are feeling hard. It can be genuinely transformational
I say this all as someone who, most days, finishes work, and spends the rest of the evening collapsed on the couch. It’s not easy, especially when society is set up a certain way, and when circumstances – be those health-related, financial, or familial – may be against you. But I know that I never regret those times when I do force myself into a third space. I am, at least, aware of my brain’s very real thirst for a watering hole; actually seeking satiation is an ongoing battle. But it’s a start.
I wish you the best of luck with carving out your own third spaces. We all have the need for them – your job is simply figuring out what yours looks like.