What Happened to Community?

Why knowing our neighbours has never been more important…

In days gone by, people had their neighbours round for dinner… or tea, if they lived up north. Others held street parties when good things happened, like on the day of the coronation of the Queen. Some even shared a television with everyone and anyone who lived down the road. British homes were open to the others around us, and we didn’t mind who popped into our living rooms, even if our lives were a bit messy.

Today, our homes are private places. Maybe a place of refuge, for the busy city worker to spend time with his family, for once. Or a place of discomfort, for the couple having relationship problems, who don’t want anyone to know. We close our front doors quickly, for an array of reasons that perhaps we’re not even sure of.

Modernity has brought fear to human relationships. The news recounting stories of child kidnappings, adult stabbings, porn addicts, daylight robberies. And we’re scared of these people because they could be anywhere around us; we don’t know who might be living around the corner of our pristine house or above our cosy flat. We move house more frequently than ever before. And our neighbours move too, which means that we’re less likely to recognise the faces that put out the bins or go jogging at the weekend.

Britain has changed and we’ve changed with it, so we live in fear of the potential dangers around us. We tell children to play indoors, and not to talk to strangers. So we’re becoming more separate human beings in our world today, living in our insular bubbles.

And yet, our online worlds are bursting with interaction. We marvel at Twitter, where you can talk to anyone — even a famous person — simply by using their name. We connect with people we knew five years ago on Facebook and check to see what they’re doing with their lives. We use dating apps that link us to people in our areas, and if their picture is nice enough we’ll even talk to them, hoping that it leads to a meal out.

We’d rather talk to strangers using a keypad than face to face. We trust internet profiles more than real live faces.

Something’s not right here.

In the middle of a rural Rwandan village, the internet doesn’t exist. Most of the community have suffered loss because twenty one years ago, a genocide happened in their country which made everything fall apart. Most of their families are incomplete because of this devastation.

Today, they support one another in growing crops together. They meet on a regular basis to talk about problems they’re facing and they share what they have if others don’t have enough. In the middle of the countryside without public transport, they have to walk all day to reach the nearest town. Their community is so important because without them, they wouldn’t know any other human beings. In Rwanda, the community right on their doorstep is the only human interaction they’ve got. And trusting others is their only chance of survival.

What happened to our doorstep communities? What happened to loving your neighbour?

We assume that everyone’s life is private and invading would be nosy, but humans are humans, all over the world. Human connection has never been more important in a world that’s building machines to solve problems.

If our boiler’s broken or if we’ve lost the tin opener, or if we really need someone else to talk to, the internet isn’t the best answer. Community is.

The Doorstep Community project is an adventure in exploring community where we live. It’s not mapping friends who live over three continents in sixteen different countries, but simply asks the question,

Who are my neighbours?

Inspired by Rwandan culture, the Doorstep Community Project is seeking stories of relationship on doorsteps; of people who have opened their front door with intention and curiosity, rather than tentativeness and fear. Yes, our world has never been more globally connected, but we still have neighbours beside and around us that we could get to know.

It’s just a question of opening the door a bit wider.

This space is for sharing stories of community around the British Isles. To break the stereotypes that we’re selfish and insular; to persuade us to stop living in fear.

Be inspired by stories of positivity. Be encouraged to join in. Be challenged to do something too.

Welcome to the project.