Nesting

Decisions surrounding community development can be complicated. It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the seemingly endless amounts of metrics that can dominate these discussions, not to mention the political undertones that often loom over such conversations. And while objective data is critical in defining effective policies, it can sometimes obscure the root issues impacting the success of many neighborhoods.
If we are serious about creating efficient and equitable communities, we will need to embrace a more nuanced appreciation for the human condition – a collection of instincts, ambitions, and insecurities that are less interested in increasing median household incomes and more concerned (whether we know it or not) with cultivating a sense of belonging. Now these things aren’t mutually exclusive. In fact, in many ways research shows us that they are intimately connected, requiring those committed to establishing strategies for inclusive placemaking to realize how these first principles have allowed our communities to evolve, sustain, and endure throughout history. Zachary Benedict

Recently, I read The Meaning of Human Existence by biologist and naturalist Edward O. Wilson. It’s an approachable and relevant look at how humanity has evolved over time and where it might be headed in the future. And while the content is interesting and well-written, with topics ranging from the enlightenment to extraterrestrials, as I read it, I couldn’t resist considering questions I’m certain the book wasn’t intended to fully address. Specifically, I was intrigued by the brief reference to the idea of eusociality.

According to Wilson, scientists have found that “the biological origin of advanced social behavior in humans was similar to that occurring elsewhere in the animal kingdom. Using comparative studies of thousands of animal species, from insects to mammals, we’ve concluded that the most complex societies have arisen through eusociality – meaning, roughly, the ‘true’ social condition.”[1] He continues that such a phenomenon is exceptionally rare, having only arisen in 19 documented cases within a collection of insects, rodents, and marine crustaceans. However, he argues that humans are, in fact, the 20th occurrence of such a condition.

“In all of the eusocial species analyzed to date,” Wilson argues, “the final step before eusociality is the construction of a protected nest, from which foraging trips are launched and within which the young are raised to maturity.”[2] For our ancestors, this final step begun over two million years ago with a growing preference for a diet that was increasingly reliant on meat. For a group to harvest “such a high-energy, widely dispersed source of food, it did not pay to roam about as a loosely organized pack of adults and young in the manner of present-day chimpanzees and bonobos. It was more efficient to occupy a campsite (thus, a nest) and send out hunters who could bring home meat, both killed and scavenged, to share with others. In exchange, the hunters received protection of the campsite and their own young offspring kept there.”[3]

This was a pivotal moment. The sovereignty of the individual was slowly becoming reliant on the success of the group. And this group mentality immediately began to illustrate the undeniable value of cooperation, prioritizing personal relationships that resulted in the shared success of the group, offering mutual benefit to all its members. As Wilson (among others) pointed out, “within groups, selfish individuals beat altruistic individuals, but groups of altruists beat groups of individuals”[4] – making the concept of reciprocity (i.e., you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours) a key ingredient in understanding humanity. Over time, this behavior has manifested itself into an instinctive need for humans to belong to a group – for safety, resources, and belonging.[5]

While these first humans had distinct group structures that were recognized by their collective membership, they were also fundamentally defined by their connection to their campsite – to their nest. It was an identity characterized by the behavior and territory of the group – one that deemed everything outside its perceived boundaries as a potential threat. Wilson writes eloquently about the benefits these group dynamics have provided our species over thousands of years, but it’s a narrative that begs the question: How has the predominance of a virtual economy and social media redefined how we identify with our respective groups? How has the dissolving boundaries of our physical nests, traded away for a more virtual existence, changed how we look at the world and our groups? And what impact has it had on the shape and condition of our nests?

In many ways, our brains’ ability to evolve hasn’t kept pace with the structural changes that have defined our communities over the last several decades. Too much has changed in too short of a period of time (especially in evolutionary terms). For example, as Wilson notes, “our distant ancestors regularly faced injury or death while hunting for food too close to the edge of a ravine, or when they stepped carelessly on a venomous snake, or stumbled upon a raiding party of an enemy tribe.” This explains why many of us have instinctive fears of heights, snakes, or strangers. However, in contrast, “automobiles, knives, guns, and the excessive consumption of dietary salt and sugar are among the leading causes of present-day mortality. Yet no inborn propensities to avoid them have evolved. The likely reason is the lack of time for evolution to have hardwired them into our brains.”[6]
In our minds, group identity is still an active strategy to obtain security and success. We also still heavily rely on our natural fears to protect us from danger. But how well do these competing instincts suit the modern world? What benefit does the eusocial condition provide without the presence of a physical nest for our groups to share, manage, and care for? What happens when new threats arrive that our brains haven’t yet had the time to evolve a sensitivity to? I’m not sure. But it feels as though these very questions are playing out in the anxiety and stress permeating our society today.

As Wilson concludes, “The problem holding everything up thus far is that Homo sapiens are an innately dysfunctional species. We are hampered by the Paleolithic Curse: genetic adaptations that worked very well for millions of years of hunter-gatherer existence but are increasingly a hindrance in a globally urban and technoscientific society. We seem unable to stabilize either economic policies or the means of governance higher than the level of a village.”[7] And even then, our villages seem to be dissolving. We have become detached from our nests, whether through the consequences of their careless development or the political discourse that surrounds their management.  We feel helpless in influencing their operation, so we look for our group identity elsewhere. And for many of us, those identities are cultivated virtually.

It’s a strange dichotomy. While an alarming number of us know intimate details about our favorite celebrities and feel a personal connection to them and their successes, few of us have ever sat down for any length of time and listened to the personal journey of our child’s schoolteacher – the very person we have entrusted to educate and mentor our children day after day. Then we wonder why our school board meetings have become so divisive.

We find solace in maintaining casual relationships with strangers in social media chat groups and news blogs that share our world views, but we can’t name the people who live on our own street – the ones who, if we needed help, could actually offer support. Then we question why we feel so detached from the cultural trajectory of our own communities.

Through decades of technological innovations and increased social mobility, we find ourselves simultaneously the most connected and the loneliest civilization in our planet’s history. And that feeling of isolation that many of us have comes from our realization that the world is a vast and exciting place.  Yet we sit alone, painfully disconnected from our immediate surroundings.[8] This growing sense of detachment within our communities is unsustainable and, in many ways, is a direct result of our inability to develop neighborhoods that prioritize the interpersonal connections we desperately crave.

It’s critical to acknowledge that our social structures are evolving faster than we are.  It’s also beneficial to remember that our brains are preconditioned to value group identity and reciprocal cooperation. However, without a nest these identities can quickly become superficial. For us to remain a functioning eusocial species, we will need to develop strategies that actively work to reconcile our evolved habits within the framework of a modern nest.

If we look at the purpose of the nest as a platform for localized support and connectivity, it’s easy to imagine a different approach to community development.  We can start by thinking less about creating great neighborhoods and focusing more on ways to cultivate great neighbors – people who share an interest in actively participating in the operation of a localized group dedicated to the success and happiness of each of its members. These connections, these reciprocal relationships, are critical to our success and they are sustained by the nests we create for ourselves.

Take for example, the impact placemaking can have on cancer.  Women who have close personal relationships are four times more likely to survive breast cancer than those with sparser connections.[9] This fact alone should inspire us to rethink the structure of the modern neighborhood. If something as simple as regular physical interaction with family and friends can play such a large role in improving our health and well-being, how quickly can we redefine the systems that govern our neighborhoods in ways that these relationships are encouraged and incentivized? What will it take? And who will provide the necessary leadership to execute these changes?

One way to approach this is by defining a top-down strategy that seeks to create the perfect nest. But such strategies are almost always unsuccessful. Communities aren’t meant to be perfect. In fact, the most successful neighborhoods are the ones that leverage their imperfections as part of their charm. The goal isn’t to create a nest for people. It’s to create a platform that encourages the act of nesting – one that invites and expects individuals to participate in the stewardship of the nest itself. It’s a responsibility that comes from those willing to make an emotional investment in their physical surroundings, not only because they want to belong to the group – but because they know their quality of life is largely dependent on the success and happiness of their neighbors.

We often hear this act of nesting used to explain a mother anxiously preparing her home in preparation of a new baby. It describes an instinct to manipulate the village to improve its ability to support new villagers in hopes of providing them the optimal conditions to thrive. What would community development look like if we were that concerned with our shared nests? If we felt so committed to our neighborhoods that we embraced the urge to frantically work to shape their structure to ensure others were successful? To make sure new members felt valued? That others felt appreciated and supported? The result would be transformational.

We need to belong to a group. Our brains won’t let us think otherwise. But we also must appreciate the need for our group identity to embrace the localized geography of the places in which we live. To be successful moving forward, more of us will need to prioritize an affiliation with our zip codes over our political party. It’s an opportunity that will require trusted and effective leadership at the local level – a methodology that acknowledges the importance of our oldest cognitive instincts and their ability to shape the effectiveness of our communities.

It won’t be easy.

Our resiliency will be defined by our ability to understand how we can transcribe the recent societal advances of modern living onto the physical structure of the neighborhood and admire it as a place that we can share and operate together. This is our true social condition. It’s epitomized by the bond between the village and its villagers, a shared connection to a physical place where we feel most comfortable, where we feel most secure, and where we feel most valued.

Without that connection, we are lost.

This essay is part of a citizen-led book project in Fort Wayne called FORTHCOMING: Considering the Future State of Our City. To learn more and read additional essays, visit the Foreword and Preface.

Zachary R. Benedict is an architect and urbanist focused on the connection between people and places. As one of the managing Principals at MKM architecture + design, a Fort Wayne-based studio consistently recognized as one of the nation’s “Top Healthcare Firms” by Modern Healthcare Magazine, he manages numerous projects ranging from senior living facilities to public libraries.  With an extensive background in urban sociology, he is considered one of the leading voices in the "Lifetime Community" movement, focusing on the socio-economic benefits of age-friendly neighborhoods.  Through these efforts he has lectured internationally on various topics – discussions whose primary focus is to encourage communities to reevaluate the importance of inclusive civic space.  In 2015 the American Institute of Architects (AIA) awarded him with a national Young Architect Award in recognition of his work. Additionally, Ball State University's College of Architecture and Planning Alumni Society recognized him with the Alumni Award of Outstanding Achievement.  He is the youngest individual to ever receive this award.