Building Bridges in a Lonely World: Lessons from My Dad
A guest post by Anya Matanovic
Lately, I’ve been hearing a lot about how people in this country are lonelier than ever. Evidence is everywhere: isolation is creating polarized communities and young men are feeling aimless and turning to radicalization, all leading to a surge in mental and physical health problems. Since the Surgeon General declared a Loneliness Epidemic, much is being done to address this crisis. But where do I start? How does someone like me who doesn’t do this work for a living do my part addressing the epidemic? I think my dad was onto something years ago when he began bringing strangers together to build parks. His work might just hold some of the answers I am looking for.
This past year, I listened to several episodes of "The Ezra Klein Show" that tackled America's loneliness crisis. In one episode, Klein and Sheila Liming argue that despite efforts to address loneliness as a public health issue, it's a result of choices like prioritizing individualism and suburban sprawl which isolate people. They discuss the ways our modern life discourages spontaneous socializing and thus weakens community bonds. Ms. Liming emphasizes the importance of reclaiming "hanging out" to strengthen these bonds and improve mental well-being, and Klein highlights the importance of “third places” - social environments outside of home (first places) and work (second places) where people can gather, socialize, and where community and spontaneous interactions abound. (Milenko wrote an interesting post about this last year. )
In another episode, Klein discusses “radical loneliness” with Anne Applebaum and Hannah Arendt. Arendt describes it as “the experience of not belonging to the world at all, which is among the most radical and desperate experiences of man.” They discuss factors contributing to this, including tech communities that reduce meaningful face-to-face interactions, shrinking community institutions, and increased political and ideological polarization. We’ve seen the results of this far too often in the recent decades - individuals susceptible to ideologies that exploit these feelings of disconnection and result in violence.
I feel lucky to have grown up in a family with a rich community of friends and acquaintances. My parents were naturally outgoing, always introducing themselves to cafe owners and the like. They were very much a part of the fabric of the town I grew up in and I felt proud of that! I still walk through Issaquah (my hometown) and point out “Papi projects” to my daughter and husband with pride, or memories of my mom telling stories at Salmon Days, or the ballroom dancing classes we joined with six other families. My dad, who grew up in a bustling European city full of “third places,” made it his life’s work to bring this kind of space to communities all around the Northwest, and it wasn’t just the finished product, it was the process that really made it unique. I think he was ahead of his time in many ways. But first, a little context about those Pomegranate Center projects. As described by Milenko on his website:
“The aim was to reinvent the commons. Our model was to involve community members from initial design, to construction, to eventual programming and stewardship. We used straw bale, round-wood (wood too small to cut into dimensional lumber), salvaged materials, nontoxic stains and paints, rocks and salvaged trees from the site, etc.
Just like Habitat for Humanity involves people in construction of homes, we involved them in construction of the spaces between our homes, which we called “gathering places”. Projects usually logged between 1,000 and 2,000 volunteer hours. This hard work resulted in pride and ownership. We promoted the generous use of hands, or things handmade. Whenever possible, we invited young people to work with us and, in the process, introduced them to topics as varied as participatory democracy and consensus processes, art, crafts, dignity of hands, and more.”
A community comes out to volunteer at "Butterfly Park”
One summer, just before heading off to college, I volunteered for one of my father's projects. Here, an experimental housing project was made from reconditioned shipping containers and provided housing for 200 adults and 40 children, and Pomegranate Center had been tasked to go out to help transform the neighborhood by adding gathering places and spots to sit with shade from trees. These builds were always joyous occasions - the positive energy of the folks who had come out to volunteer was palpable and, though we all were engaged in tough physical labor and sometimes grueling weather, the overall spirit was full of humour and support.
I was out there one afternoon, deeply engaged in my task - digging a hole for a post - when a few young guys walked by. (They were the kind of teenagers my dad would have jokingly called “hooligans”, as he was referred to in his own teenage years). These boys were obviously curious and had come out to see what all these folks and all this activity were about in their neighborhood (or maybe to see the young ladies working there, haha!). My dad saw them slowing as they passed and he approached them, explaining that we were building a gathering place in this deserted lot and that all the workers were volunteers. He said, "Can I interest you in picking up a shovel and helping?" They were skeptical for a moment, but you know what? They picked up shovels and helped! And they came back the next day to help again. And again.
They became part of the event, gained ownership and pride in something outside their homes, and interacted with many people they likely wouldn’t have otherwise. Participating in these “barn raising” projects made me feel like I belonged to something greater than myself. Though I never saw them again, I like to imagine that these young men formed some connections in their community that lasted well into the future, that they they felt a part of something bigger than themselves, and that they felt a tangible sense of the important role they played in transforming their own community.
I don’t know if those young men were lonely or disconnected, but I do believe that engaging young individuals in community projects can significantly reduce feelings of loneliness and confusion about their place in society. This spontaneous moment of shared labor broke down barriers and created connections that transcended socioeconomic and racial boundaries. It was a powerful example of how making something together can foster unity and belonging in ways that conversations alone cannot achieve.
In a time when division and bias are rampant, and online interactions often foster hatred, I believe that the loneliness crisis coincides with our tendency to engage with the world through screens rather than face-to-face. Yes, it is hard to get off the couch and step into a new situation, but imagine the value of digging a hole or planting a garden with someone who holds different political views. You may realize you actually share a sense of humor, a similar nostalgia, or a common hobby. You might develop shared perspectives or empathy for their beliefs. And then you will be a little kinder and a little more trusting with someone that before you may have just judged for their differing political views, and you will realize the true idea of community in that moment.
A few years ago, I wrote about how actions can sometimes be more healing than words. Reflecting on the recent passing of James Hubbell, I recall the projects he and my father led around the world, bringing together students from countries that were, on paper, oppositional. They united to build something beautiful and formed friendships along the way. Though I may be simplifying the crisis, I believe this model could be one answer to loneliness, division and hatred we see all around.
I’m trying to find ways of bringing folks together in my current beautiful community of Manchester, Vermont. I’m learning as I go, and if an opera singer with no background in this can do it, you can too.
Getting involved in existing community projects is a great first step. Look around for opportunities to help in physical situations - picking up garbage, weeding town centers, joining clubs, game nights… Or if you want, start your own community project! Here are some steps to get started, based on discussions with my dad:
Identify a Need: Look for areas in your community that could benefit from a collaborative project. You can start small—does your bus stop need a bench or shade?
Recruit Participants: Reach out to friends, neighbors, schools, and local organizations to join your project.
Use the Pomegranate Method for Community Engagement: This structured approach, developed by Milenko and his team at Pomegranate Center, facilitates inclusive and effective public dialogues to plan and finish any small community project.
Gather Resources: Find materials, tools, and funding.
Plan and Execute: Organize the project, set a timeline, and get to work.
In the midst of writing this post, a podcast interview popped up on my feed titled “Robert Putnam Knows Why You Are Lonely.” My father first introduced me to Putnam's book Bowling Alone and to the concept of “social capital” - the value derived from the community networks and relationships we cultivate that facilitate cooperation, trust and overall happiness within a society. This social capital is essential for a healthy, thriving society, leading to benefits like better public health, lower crime rates, and overall happier and less lonelier communities. He identifies two ways of building social capital: bonding social capital, which strengthens ties within a homogeneous group, and bridging social capital, which connects diverse groups, fostering broader social cohesion and inclusion. Putnam argues in a new documentary that we need more bridging social capital opportunities right now, and one of the best ways to do this is by joining a club. The idea is simple: get together to do something—often with your hands, like bowling, knitting, or gardening—where the activity is the shared experience, not the ideas. It’s another great conversation, and worth a listen. Here’s a quick quote from the interview:
“…Building social capital is not like castor oil — ‘you’ve got to take it because it’s good for you, even though it feels awful.’ It ought to be fun. I am famous as the advocate of bowling clubs, but you don’t bowl so you can build a better community, you bowl because it’s fun. And in the doing of the bowling, in a team, you’re hanging out with folks and sometimes you’re talking about the latest TV show, or occasionally you might talk about the garbage pickup in town. And that’s democracy … I’m just saying, don’t think the way to save democracy is just to set out to save democracy.”
So whether it’s a club at your library, a local workshop, or a volunteer opportunity in your community, Putnam and my dad are onto the same thing - let’s get together, have some fun, and soften those divides a bit.
I’ll close with this thought: A few weeks ago I was at the Hayden Planetarium in NYC watching a film about the recent explorations and discoveries in our solar system. The newly animated images showed wonders I had never even imagined. Each planet seemed a unique miracle and drew oohs and ahhs from all of us watching. But the most moving part for me was when the film zoomed back to Earth, reminding me that though we’ve drawn lines on maps to delineate boundaries, we’re all here sharing this little marble whirling through space. May we be reminded of that and feel a little less lonely with every hole we dig together.