Cities are somewhat unnatural creations. A huge number of people hailing from differing and conflicting religions, ethnicities, and politics live, learn, grow, and work in a relatively small and confined area. It seems illogical that in the United States, over three-quarters of the population lives on only three percent of the land. Yet the allure, the danger, and the opportunity offered by an urban environment are undeniable temptations. Perhaps this is why every year more and more people move to concrete jungles. Any passion and desire can be fulfilled, for in a city one can find anything from anywhere. However, the size and diversity also provides a harsh disadvantage to urban life. Living in a city provides one with not only innumerable opportunities and endless hope but also a life devoid of personal relationships and a nagging sense of nonexistence.
Only recently have I begun to comfortably navigate the tender waters of the New York social scene. I was pathologically shy as a young boy. I often found myself standing on the sidelines of every social checkpoint. While peers grew, explored, and experimented I was too unsure of my standing in social circles to join in middle-school shenanigans. In high school I relaxed a little bit. In four years, I had met enough distinct people, enjoyed enough successes, and suffered through enough failures to begin noticing a pattern in the way the urbanite children interacted with one another. All but a few social interactions appeared to lack a deeper meaning. Smiling and interested faces became facades for ulterior motives. A students would feign interest in one another’s lives in order to either enhance their public image, add extra padding to their application, or exploit whatever their targets had to offer. Only a minor fraction of conversations, people, and events provided one with a human connection and a sense of value and progress. All else became a mere acquaintance, generally disregarded and taken with a grain of salt.
This pattern is not mere coincidence nor is it a solitary occurrence. With a city-sized population it is impossible to know everyone. Thus the individual ceases to search for a connection with the community as a whole and focuses on a forming a connection with a select few. This is an evolved behavior, stemming from a necessity to have those to help and those to be helped by. An individual who pursued a connection with everyone in a multi-million person community would ultimately realize that his collection of names, relationships, and communities is nothing more than a list of forgotten faces, meaningless words, and unrecognizable contacts. Therefore many urban-dwellers elect to remain unaffected by the words and glazes of the surrounding masses in favor of the attention and support provided by the few.
Several studies have been done further examining the social and psychological development of a city-shaped individual, and they provided a curious context for the pattern I began map. One study showed that rates of anxiety and mood disorders were significantly higher in urban populations than in rural. This can be linked to the extreme social competition that a city forces. The unimaginable number of opportunities and chances a city allows is stunted by the even greater number of people vying for said opportunities. The inability of the supply to meet the demand results in modern Darwinism. In an environment where success can bring ultimate reward while failure can spell irreversible doom, where the only way to go is up and those who do not climb are pushed down, one quickly learns to prioritize personal achievement over sentimentality. Thus everyone is constant competition with everyone.
Another study hypothesized that an urban-dweller is more likely to participate in organized activities and group events, as those can provide him with opportunities to form close connections with small pools of individuals. Each activity is an easy way to bring diverse strangers into an intimate environment, and is thus an excellent, albeit manufactured, opportunity to meet and become met.
However, the theorized lone urbanite warrior is not necessarily a negative image. A final study on the topic explained that as a result of the massive number of artificial relationships, forced intimacies, and unmemorable interactions serve as a training ground for urbanites. Through these constant and pointless social interactions, a city-dweller becomes more comfortable with meeting new people, more discerning of character, and more particular in their choosing of friends and companions.
Only recently have I begun to comfortably navigate the tender waters of the New York social scene. I was pathologically shy as a young boy. I often found myself standing on the sidelines of every social checkpoint. While peers grew, explored, and experimented I was too unsure of my standing in social circles to join in middle-school shenanigans. In high school I relaxed a little bit. In four years, I had met enough distinct people, enjoyed enough successes, and suffered through enough failures to begin noticing a pattern in the way the urbanite children interacted with one another. All but a few social interactions appeared to lack a deeper meaning. Smiling and interested faces became facades for ulterior motives. A students would feign interest in one another’s lives in order to either enhance their public image, add extra padding to their application, or exploit whatever their targets had to offer. Only a minor fraction of conversations, people, and events provided one with a human connection and a sense of value and progress. All else became a mere acquaintance, generally disregarded and taken with a grain of salt.
This pattern is not mere coincidence nor is it a solitary occurrence. With a city-sized population it is impossible to know everyone. Thus the individual ceases to search for a connection with the community as a whole and focuses on a forming a connection with a select few. This is an evolved behavior, stemming from a necessity to have those to help and those to be helped by. An individual who pursued a connection with everyone in a multi-million person community would ultimately realize that his collection of names, relationships, and communities is nothing more than a list of forgotten faces, meaningless words, and unrecognizable contacts. Therefore many urban-dwellers elect to remain unaffected by the words and glazes of the surrounding masses in favor of the attention and support provided by the few.
Several studies have been done further examining the social and psychological development of a city-shaped individual, and they provided a curious context for the pattern I began map. One study showed that rates of anxiety and mood disorders were significantly higher in urban populations than in rural. This can be linked to the extreme social competition that a city forces. The unimaginable number of opportunities and chances a city allows is stunted by the even greater number of people vying for said opportunities. The inability of the supply to meet the demand results in modern Darwinism. In an environment where success can bring ultimate reward while failure can spell irreversible doom, where the only way to go is up and those who do not climb are pushed down, one quickly learns to prioritize personal achievement over sentimentality. Thus everyone is constant competition with everyone.
Another study hypothesized that an urban-dweller is more likely to participate in organized activities and group events, as those can provide him with opportunities to form close connections with small pools of individuals. Each activity is an easy way to bring diverse strangers into an intimate environment, and is thus an excellent, albeit manufactured, opportunity to meet and become met.
However, the theorized lone urbanite warrior is not necessarily a negative image. A final study on the topic explained that as a result of the massive number of artificial relationships, forced intimacies, and unmemorable interactions serve as a training ground for urbanites. Through these constant and pointless social interactions, a city-dweller becomes more comfortable with meeting new people, more discerning of character, and more particular in their choosing of friends and companions.