What we get wrong about social cohesion
It’s not the absence of conflict, it’s the presence of community.
We have seen another awful act of violence in the media, which seems to strike at the very heart of our understanding of who we are.
It’s shocking, but for anyone working on the frontline of community, not surprising. Managers of neighbourhood houses and community centres will tell you, ‘there’s something in the air’.
In the Wimmera, a community centre displays public information about a renewable energy project and receives death threats. A neighbourhood house manager in Central Victoria is physically attacked by a drug-affected community member needing safety but unable to control their aggression. These are not isolated instances: half of the 400 neighbourhood house managers across Victoria have experienced physical or verbal aggression in the past six months.
This lived experience is supported by research: the Scanlon Foundation’s Mapping Social Cohesion Australia found that social cohesion is at its lowest since the Index began in 2007. The report also finds that our social cohesion is buffered by neighbourhood connection: the ties of mutual respect and support at a local level.
No doubt we will see more investments in security and CCTV monitoring, greater personal protection for politicians and calls to ‘lower the temperature’.
Band-aid initiatives like these may address the symptoms, but they will not cure the disease. You can’t enforce your way to greater community cohesion.
And while prisons are expensive, community is incredibly cost effective. For only $45M per year, 400 neighbourhood houses across the state provide community connection to nearly 200,000 Victorians per week. Each location, in turn, supports an average 18 local community groups – an entire community ecosystem extending to every corner of Victoria. Powered by 12,000 regular volunteers, every dollar the state invests produces an astounding $20.50 in measurable community value.
And it works. We know that because it’s what community members tell us. In a survey of 28,000 Victorian neighbourhood house attendees, 80% said their sense of belonging has been strongly or very strongly improved by participating. Significant increases in belonging were seen with involvement even if it was as infrequent as once per month. And community is contagious: 58% reported their involvement in other community groups increased also.
Brain science can now show us that a sense of belonging leads to greater emotional resilience and regulation. When you belong, you are more accepting of difference and less likely to lash out at people you disagree with. When you belong, you will offer support to others and receive it in return. You can see that your efforts will have positive outcomes. You have hope.
Without belonging, we are disconnected and resentful. Because no one is there to support us, we support no one. We retreat online because feeding our resentment masks our loneliness. When we’re told the problem is other people, we believe it. We lose empathy, and ultimately, hope.
We have invested billions in physical infrastructure while leaving our social infrastructure to fend for itself against conflict-maxxing social media algorithms, bot farms, and outrage addiction. Funding for community strengthening is 20% lower in real terms than 10 years ago. Funding for community education – digital skills, numeracy, and English, the building blocks of inclusion – has received a single 3% increase in eight years. Community childcare is being pushed out by large, commercial providers who are answerable to shareholders, not children and parents.
In the next week or two, we will hear many appeals to be more civil while spending is increased on private security, police, and prisons.
Many will ask, resignedly, ‘what can be done?’ The answer is: so much. If we want to strengthen our social fabric, we should start by investing in the people doing the weaving.
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