What are you looking forward to this week, or rather, in life? Some suggest that we’ve lost this line of questioning in our modern society. I suggest that we’ve lost not only the ability to slow down and ask these types of questions, but also the spaces to hold these conversations. Sociologist Ray Oldenburg coined the term ‘Third space’ as an informal social environment distinct from work and home, where people go to build a sense of community. Third spaces in today’s society have grown so unintentional and fragmented, however, that they now occur mostly online rather than in physical communities. This shift diminishes social cohesion and commercializes empathy, creating a society capable of mass digital outrage yet tethered together through parasocial bonds.
I am not denying that third spaces still exist, but they are mainly sold to capitalism, and capitalism is completely reshaping the values of our society. The characteristics of a third space involve being accessible to all people, engaging in conversations, and informal rules for what you can do, wear, and speak about. Capitalism, however, has increasingly prioritized profit over community, which is why many public-facing establishments now enforce “customers only” policies or charge admission fees. Even the physical infrastructure of coffee shops and libraries has shifted. Their design now often reflects a transient, efficiency-driven model rather than one that encourages lingering or connection. An article, From Hangout to Hurry, personifies this through Starbucks’ 2022 shift: “By 2022, Starbucks appeared to have scrapped the ‘Starbucks experience‘ entirely. Across the country, cozy lounge chairs were replaced with metal stools, where seating wasn’t done away with altogether. Bathrooms, outlets, and tables also disappeared. The company promised to outfit 90% of new locations with “state-of-the-art” drive-thrus.” This corporate reconfiguration is no coincidence. Combined with the rise of hustle culture, which makes rest unproductive, individuals are unlikely to engage in third spaces at all.
This erosion of third-space infrastructure points to a larger problem: our generation’s social cohesion is strained by the rapid pace of capitalism alongside the influence of heavily marketed media. Socioeconomic class has remained relatively stable across generations; however, the visible differences between classes have become less clear as consumer goods and lifestyles grow more accessible. Living above one’s means is often observed among the working class, influenced by heavily marketed media. Orders are placed without pause, payments are processed automatically, and all are completed moments after a Zoom meeting ends. Through the countless hours spent on the media, we are being fed illusions of community, stability, and wealth that do not exist beyond TikTok, Instagram, and Afterpay. This illusion doesn’t stop at the payments; I believe that it creates a mindset of scarcity that turns individuals into gatekeepers of what they do have. In an overconsumption culture, people would rather hoard items or resell them than donate freely. Even charitable acts become transactional, donating cans rather than serving. With this mentality, we lose a physical sense of community. We don’t recognize our neighbors, and even our ‘friends’ remain abstract.
Being that the media is now one of the more functional third spaces, the way we cultivate community through reaching out, posting about Palestine, and relating to one another is all monetized and a testimony to your character. The next best thing to go viral is the trendiest or most controversial thing to talk about. This creates an incentivised culture around social media. From this perspective, moral engagement becomes transactional and a necessary testament to your online persona. I am not denying the utility of digital platforms and their ability to be genuine and spread news and global awareness. But when we started to grow dependent on the media, we essentially recalibrated sincerity to visibility and reduced moral participation to posts, likes, and shares. Speaking on genocide then becomes a prerequisite to keeping alignment with your target audience. Digital gestures such as liking someone’s story about their grief replace physically reaching out to empathize with one another. In doing so, we risk normalizing a permanent barrier to genuine community and communication.
When we lose our ability to slow down in real life and create space for dialogue, we lose the ability to connect and personally trust the word community. It is so imperative that we put an end to performative, influential media and step outside to physically connect with our neighbors in our original third spaces. If we allow the media to be a placeholder/ substitute for community, then we will also reap the consequences of eroding meaningful human connection.
