Stories rarely remain unchanged, the context in which they’re told matters just as much as the context referred to by the story. I wrote this sequence of 21 stories about 15 months ago. You may have read some or all of them in their earlier form. Reading it now, we perhaps see something different, especially as we consider the impact of the lockdown on community.
As I republish these stories, I revise and polish them. Some need little change, for others the changes are extensive. At the end of each story, I add reflections based on where my thinking has moved onto, especially in the context of the Lockdown.
Incense to the Gods!
The Local Economy became important for me quite late in life. One consequence is that it’s hard to remember who was pivotal in forming my ideas. It’s a huge jigsaw puzzle and when I remove any piece, it makes little difference to the whole. This is especially true of people who have inspired me. Many have but I can’t name one who conclusively influenced my thinking on this topic.
I was asked to write about a pivotal person. Who? As I walked, I pondered this question. Maybe I’m looking at the puzzle the wrong way, I thought. What are the pivotal ideas? Then I noticed a jigsaw piece and realised it was key to everything else. Who did I get it from? And then I remembered.
When someone gives you a house key, you slip it into your pocket and forget it. And yet, it opens up a house, thousands of times its size. This piece in the jigsaw is like that. It has one word written on it, the Greek word: “Agora”.
Praxis
R is a close friend and back in 1984, we set up the Praxis group with 4 others, where we study community development, adult education, theology and crucially New Testament Greek. We meet a few times a year to this day.
When I first knew R, he was a peace activist and protested against cruise missiles at Molesworth and Trident at Faslane and numerous other places. He was imprisoned several times for civil disobedience.
Then disaster struck and he fell in love! R was deliriously happy until she moved on and broken-hearted he returned to his parents. He cared for them for over 20 years, until they died a few years ago. R was never in full-time employment, never in business. He worked as a hospital porter.
I tell you this because on the surface this was a life wasted. But I have left out one key bit of information. R is a scholar. He finds comfort in books. I often receive a phone call or postcard from him with some discovery he thought would interest me. R tutors Praxis in Greek. He has a degree in Classics from Oxford. Perhaps a discipline valued little in today’s world. He taught at Eton for a while and remembers Boris Johnson as a pupil.
Today he lives near Leeds centre in a flat, full of books from floor to ceiling. Still mining byways of human thought for insights that might inspire his friends. It is only reflecting on this piece today that I realise how much I owe him.
Agora
R explained, Agora means marketplace. The word marketplace has been debased. Marketplace in economist’s parlance is a purely economic word. It is the dead hand of the stock exchange and hedge funds, which could not be further from the lived experience of the Agora.
A Roman citizen (not a slave), visited the marketplace to meet friends. Together they take a bath, have a bite to eat, listen to a political speech, attend a trial or listen to reading of the news. They burn incense to gods or emperor. Maybe they buy or sell something.
This pattern is found in marketplaces all over the world and at all times. They’re never solely for trade, always places of community, civic centres for the lives of the people.
Even today, despite chain stores and mass media, community works when it is built on a matrix of economic activity. Shops bring worshippers to church or mosque, readers to the library, scholars to school. In turn these bring footfall to traders. Where there is no or little trade, community is difficult or impossible.
To understand local economy, remember it is about the sum total of activity in a neighbourhood. Business is necessary but hardly sufficient.
Can you see how economic activity supports community in your neighbourhood?
LOCKDOWN POSTSCRIPT
What does lockdown mean for community? To answer this, I need to define terms. What is community? There are at least 155 definitions of the word. To keep it simple, I use two words. A neighbourhood is a geographical area, in which people live and work. There may be community in the neighbourhood to some degree. My point is that without business, there is little or no community. Community without business is hardly sustainable.
It is hard to imagine how the lockdown might be good for community. Many businesses have closed. Even where there is economic activity, social distancing makes relationships difficult. We cannot occupy those spaces created by business that allow for unstructured interactions. To a limited degree we meet online but these are structured meetings with people we know. Even where we meet new people online, it is not like it was, where we could arrange a coffee.
There are some positives, of course there are. People respond to the situation with new ideas. Perhaps most well-known is the doorstep applause for key workers. In some neighbourhoods, groups offer support for people in isolation. It is hard to say whether this marks a real increase in community or whether they are replacements for more thoroughgoing interactions pre-lockdown.
Trade and Plague
Trade has always brought disease. A famous example, close to where I live, is the village of Eyam on Derbyshire. A tailor in the 17th century brought some cloth to the village, infected by bubonic plague. The village self-quarantined and many inhabitants died.
Plague travelled the silk roads from China to Europe. There were always new diseases from animals, especially domesticated animals. Mostly, people developed resistance and then carried plagues to the new world. Disease was possibly more effective in wiping out native communities than warfare.
You could argue war, plague and trade form our communities. Out of the three, most of us prefer the last.
Rebuilding
I enjoy a coffee and I’ve missed it during the lockdown. But what do I miss? It’s not solely coffee, it is being amongst people, feeling the ebb and flow of life around me. One day the lockdown will be over. I suspect we’ll find ourselves in an impoverished world. Many shops will remain boarded up. We’ll see what we have lost.
To rebuild we must ask ourselves what really matters. I don’t value drinking my coffee on the street where it is not possible to sit. When we rebuild, we must keep in mind not only our businesses but our communities.
This is story 4/21. Last Story: Retail: Merry Hell Next Story: Mutuality: The Secret of Victoria Road, Kilnhurst