What sort of society are we creating — particularly, in big cities — that normalises loneliness, psychic stress and the all-pervading fear of the other? I live in a metropolitan city, and it has enriched me in many ways. I find good schools, colleges, hospitals and vibrant cultural centres that keep me intellectually alive. Yet, I experience a sense of pain and existential anguish. Huge skyscrapers and gated communities frighten me, and the constant movement of cars and other vehicles on impersonal highways intensifies my stress. However, I am not alone. In fact, the pathology of our contemporary urban existence is becoming the new normal, but the mainstream “development” discourse seldom notices it.
Let me refer to what a hugely stratified/unequal society like ours has normalised — the segregation of the rich and the upwardly mobile aspiring class from the larger society. And this segregation manifests itself in the mode of living which the real estate industry mythologises as a “gated community” – a space that normalises the culture of surveillance and cultivates the fear of the “other”. In these gated communities, the entry gates are always closed for the “outsiders,” unless they carry appropriate “class symbols”, and convince the security guards that they have indeed come to meet someone who resides there. By its nature, a gated community is against informal interactions, mutual trust and intimacy. It appears to be an island of the privileged that seeks to distance itself from the “chaotic” larger society. In this circumstance, the maids, cooks, plumbers and electricians — they are not even allowed to use the same lift – are discriminated against.
Ironically, there is hardly any interaction among the “insiders”. Even an exchange of a pleasant smile in the lift is rare. Everyone’s identity seems to have been reduced to their apartment numbers. Loneliness is an inevitable outcome. A 2021 study suggests that more than 40 per cent of urban Indians feel lonely.
Likewise, as I see the overflow of cars and the intoxication with speed, I wonder whether a pedestrian like me has the right to exist in a megacity. As pedestrians, we cause no carbon emissions, particularly at a time when the horror of the climate emergency is haunting us. However, there is hardly any space for a pedestrian to walk freely without any obstruction or fear. A footpath is now a parking space for two-wheelers and cars. It is a business site. Tea stalls, fast food shops and hawkers occupy it without the slightest hesitation. Electricity poles, transformers, small religious structures, and even open manholes add to these existing obstacles. No wonder pedestrian fatalities account for almost 20 per cent of all crash fatalities in India. Yet, there is no public debate on this issue. Meanwhile, we continue cutting trees, destroying the ecosystem, expanding our highways, and tempting the aspiring class to buy more and more cars.
According to the Delhi Statistical Handbook, 2023, more than 2.07 million private cars are registered in Delhi, whereas 2.31 million private cars contribute to Bengaluru’s notorious traffic jam. A conflict-ridden society is facing yet another kind of conflict — the dispute over the parking space leading to assaults, abuses and even shootings. Chronic anger and psychic stress characterise our everyday interactions in big cities.
There is another kind of anxiety that haunts me. Are we fast losing the art of direct face-to-face communication? Is technology, far from emancipating, enslaving us? When I travel in a metro, I experience something that sociologist Georg Simmel, in his essay ‘The Metropolis and Mental Life’, regarded as “heartless indifference”. I experience the coldness of the “lonely crowd”. Seldom do fellow passengers greet one another. There is hardly any conversation — a pleasant exchange or a life-affirming smile. Instead, everybody is engrossed in his/her smartphone. Amidst our almost neurotic obsession with virtual “likes” and “followers”, we miss the warmth of human touch. With time, technologies will become increasingly sophisticated; the miracle called “Artificial Intelligence” will further separate us from human interactions, and the “hidden persuaders” will succeed in tempting us to buy the latest gadgets. Do we realise that we are dying from deep inside?
The irony of our contemporary urban existence is that we are becoming more and more “efficient” and “productive” — yet, lonely, indifferent, anxiety-ridden and devoid of love and enchantment.
The writer taught sociology at JNU
