Kia ora, Zach again!
Ten thousand or so years ago, humans lived hunter-gatherer style lives, subsisting on raw meat and ancient grains (alongside a hearty dose of forages). This is the diet our stomachs evolved to digest – this is the prime form of consumption. So dictates the philosophy of the Paleo diet, at least. Proponents of intermittent fasting will advance a similar claim: that humans spent long periods without food while they hunted, thus we should do the same.
It’s not my place to query into the validity of these claims. But if the history of human practices have any bearing or importance on our modern lives, then one that particularly deserves our attention is the importance of community.
We humans have relied upon one another for survival since time immemorial. It’s not a practice that died out 10,000 years ago, either. The history of all hitherto society is the history of collectivism – we would not exist without it.
Naturally, just because a practice has a lengthy history, does not necessarily mean that it should prevail – tradition is not always beneficial. But whilst the relatively new disciplines of exercise science and nutrition cannot definitively prove that our digestive capabilities have lain dormant for 10,000 years, I can say with confidence that no person has ever survived without the help of others.
Indeed, despite its modern popularity, the philosophy of individualism merely obscures quite how great the human need for community really is. There are the obvious examples – no human survives past infancy without the care of an adult – but there are also wider, more subtle forms of dependence on others. Consider the groceries you buy from the supermarket – every individual foodstuff has passed through the hands of countless people so that it might reach your trolley. Every piece of furniture in your house has been constructed and laboured upon by others – not to mention the house itself, or the infrastructure that surrounds it.
Then there’s the behemoth of knowledge – how do we know which mushrooms are safe to eat; how have we reached such a promising point in the world of modern medicine; how do we stay informed on current events? Because we trust and rely upon the knowledge and research of our community and society, and we build upon the findings of those that came before us. We would get nowhere in life if we had to learn or verify every piece of knowledge ourselves – and we’d also die pretty quickly. That’s not to dismiss the importance of scepticism, critical thinking, or curiosity, but we simply cannot investigate everything. We have to rely on others, to an extent.
Thus, the concepts of individual responsibility or complete self-reliance prove somewhat ridiculous when scrutinised. If we literally cannot survive without the help of others, why do we act as if we were destined for individualism? How can we justify the idea that we, and we alone, are solely responsible for our own wellbeing?
Our entire history – recorded and recounted by fellow humans – has shown us that we need community. And this is especially the case in the realm of mental health. For one thing, our mental health is influenced by, and dependent on, our immediate circumstances; that generally means the actions, presence (or lack thereof), and impacts of the people around us. For another thing, trying to navigate the maze of our own minds in isolation is a gargantuan challenge. Consider anxiety, for example – a particularly relevant mental health issue right now. It cannot be treated without interaction with others, and indeed almost inevitably worsens through isolation. No wonder Covid had such a devastating effect on our mental health! Depression, too, can stem from loneliness, but is helped immensely through positive interactions with others. Personally speaking, I never had a depressive episode or anxious experience that couldn’t be alleviated through time spent with others.
Over 20 years ago, Robert Putnam tracked the ongoing decline of community: the erosion of a bygone time of cohesion, with people no longer attending local clubs, community groups, and organisations. At the time, he identified television as a key influence, and worried for the future implications that this might have – and he was right to do so. Our gradual separation paired with the advent of social media has spelled disaster for the state of our mental health. We no longer have our ‘watering holes’ to visit regularly – a space to be amongst people who cared about us, to feel a part of something, and ‘check in’ if things didn’t seem right. Separation from our community is a breeding ground not only for anxiety, but for mistrust, loneliness, and polarisation. As a species so reliant on the collective, being isolated from the latter is disastrous for our survival. We cannot do it through immediate family alone, either.
Indeed it is key not only to recognise the importance of others for our mental health, but the importance of the community at large. Support cannot, and should not be isolated to the individual family unit. If it takes a village to raise a child, then it is imperative that the entire community at large is involved in fixing our ongoing mental ill health crisis. There is incredible strength, love, and care in the collective.
If you need proof for this, look no further than the Retreat itself – and Waimanako alongside it. We’ve been reliant upon the strength of the community since the beginning – nine years ago, now! We only managed to build the Retreat thanks to the generosity of the community – whether that was donated time, money, or goods – we were not borne of government funding or private wealth. Just as reflective of this is our support model, also embedded within community values. We utilise peer support – that is, those who support people accessing our services have walked the hard yards themselves: they too have experienced mental health difficulties, they too are journeying to recovery. And those who access our services may, in turn, go on to support others after them. It’s another instance in which we build upon the experience of those that came before; we use the care and experience of the community to help others. Our longevity, many testimonials, and even a PhD thesis have, and continue to show, that it works fantastically.
In fact, we’ve just proven the power and importance of collective strength once again with our 12 More Hours of Hope event – which was an amazing success, funding yet another community project of ours that we simply could not have managed as individuals. The Confidence Centre will continue to exemplify the vital nature of community, as we use our peer support model to lift our whānau that need it out of the clutches of anxiety and into confidence. Like everything we do, we couldn’t have done it without you, our community; an amazing collection of people from all sorts of backgrounds, united in their compassion, care, and love. So, from the bottom of our hearts – thank you for your absolutely crucial, lifesaving support.
We can’t always rely on tradition or recourse to ancient practice. But I think, in this case, the record of history (and the present, even though it may appear less obvious) makes an airtight case. As individuals, there isn’t too much we can do. But as a community, our power is unmatched. We can save lives, turn around people’s mental health, and raise over $50,000 in one day. It’s a power we should neither underestimate, nor take for granted.