It takes a village
I spent the weekend before the world stopped in a small village on Scotland’s north east coast. I was there to interview locals for my postgraduate dissertation about communities, land rights and climate change.
I hadn’t expected so many of our conversations to be on the topic of a global pandemic, but so much of the last few weeks has been unexpected, to put it mildly. As we talked about issues ranging from environmental management and soaking up carbon dioxide, to the latest bake sale and the campaign to save the pier, each conversation would eventually land on the same thing, the same comment: the strength of their community.
Some called it power, some called it spirit, some couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was, but as we talked over steaming cups of tea, waves crashing on the shore below, everyone I spoke to told me that there was just something about the community here. This community made things happen, had space and time for everyone, welcomed and supported all.
Did they have any doubts about the ability of the village to deliver the ambitious project I was researching?
No. Resoundingly.
Why?
The community will make it happen. Everyone will pull together. No doubt.
As I returned to Edinburgh and had my last day in my office for who knows how long, as my favourite coffee shops and stores closed indefinitely, as the streets emptied and people struggled to adjust to the new reality, I couldn’t stop wondering about the place I had just left and what made the community there so strong. I had felt it too, for the few days I’d stayed there. In the way I, as a complete stranger, was welcomed without hesitation into the home of a local couple. In the way people had offered up their time to me for long conversations, with no obvious benefit to themselves. And in the way I heard, time and again, the complete faith locals had in their own community to help each other, not just in times of need.
The UK Government’s Scientific Advisory Group for Emergencies SAGE released a report last week on the role of behavioural science in the coronavirus outbreak. It contained a line which is one of the most heartening I have ever read in any Government report:
“Large scale rioting is unlikely and rarely seen in these circumstances. Acts of altruism will likely predominate”
There is a tendency in crises to assume that they will bring out the worst in human behaviour, a feeling which is only amplified by social media. This is a myth. We see time and again that most people’s reaction in a time of crisis is to ask “how can I help?”. The pandemic has been an important reminder that humans are social, caring creatures whose first reaction is to turn toward one another and help, not hole up with a stockpile of food and medicine and hope to be the last one standing.
The Coronavirus pandemic is a finite crisis. The climate crisis isn’t. There are lessons we can learn though, which might help. When life is disrupted it is natural to seek comfort, and that warm feeling is what we get when we help people, and when they help us. Perhaps it has taken a crisis for people to identify their community, the people around them who they didn’t previously know very well, but who now provide a vital service, whether that’s through helping each other to get food, or just a shared sense of solidarity. But it is clear now that those communities have been there all along and they need to be nourished.
Maybe the people I interviewed couldn’t tell me why their community was so strong because there isn’t some secret, magic formula. Maybe there are just enough people who recognise that life is richer when you work together, and that by supporting each other when times are good you’ll have someone to lean on when it gets hard.
I have read stories of people preparing ‘apocalypse bunkers’ in the hope that they can survive climate change this way. These people have bought cottages and land, far away from anyone else, and plan to be completely self-sufficient. This is a deeply misguided approach and, I believe, one driven by fear, not hope. But if the Coronavirus crisis has taught us anything, it is that there is hope to be found in leaning into our communities, because they will be there, even if you haven’t seen them before.
