I used to think I was a misanthrope.
I’ve never really felt comfortable in groups. One of my earliest recollections of this feeling was in middle school—an awkward effort to “find my tribe.” But, once I was adopted into a peer group, I spent most of my time feeling…well, uncomfortable.
Was the problem my self-esteem? Maybe in middle school, but today it’s just fine—and yet I still struggle with being part of a group. What’s interesting is that I have thrived in other group-like spaces where the “rules of membership” are different. Recently, I started to ponder what made the difference. Why could I feel at home and integrated in one space, but less so in the other?
The answer, I think, is there’s a distinction between groups and communities—and it seems I prefer one over the other. While communities are a type of group in the basic definitional sense—“a number of people that are collected together”—in practice they are two different constructs, especially as it relates to structures, norms, and boundaries. Although some of us may be “ambidextrous,” others, like myself, tend to flourish in one versus the other. Here’s what I think is going on—and some ideas on how to potentially infuse the best parts of communities into groups.
Becoming the group
First, let’s define what I mean when I say groups.
Groups can be informal or formal, but, according to social science, they all adhere to a few basic tenets. They tend to operate based on status structures, where there’s a clear delineation of who has the most power or influence in the group and who has less. It can be challenging for those who do not have such status to influence the group. There’s also the assignation of roles in groups: who does what or who is expected to do what.
Members of groups are expected to respect norms that dictate members’ behaviors and beliefs. Norms are the most important because they serve as the foundation of the identity of the group. This identity outlines the boundaries of the group, which tend to be rigid. It’s for this reason that many groups foster cohesion simply by defining who is not in the group (outgroups), thus promoting an us-versus-them mentality, inadvertently or intentionally.
Here’s an example of these principles at work from my own life. When I moved to the Washington, D.C., metro area I was interested in joining a local civic group known to get involved in different social issues. I came to the interest meeting after work. When I walked in, I noticed I was way too buttoned up in comparison to how others were dressed. I wore a blazer, loafers, and blouse; the others were much more casual. Those who were commanding the most attention in the room before the meeting started wore socially provocative T-shirts or paraphernalia that represented a specific group or social cause; the influence in the space tilted in their direction.
In addition, the group had formal officers who led the meeting. They introduced the key group issues and explained why they felt the issues were important. As an aspiring sociologist at the time, I raised my hand to ask questions about the issues and offer an alternative perspective, but that gained little traction in the room. At the conclusion of the meeting, the officers asked those in attendance to sign a petition about one of the issues discussed. I hung around to make small talk afterward, but no one gravitated in my direction, so I left. Even in that first meeting the structure, norms, and boundaries were clear.
I’m not criticizing the group. They were following a template that I would encounter throughout adulthood. Politically oriented groups, parent groups, athletic groups all operated based on a clear structure, norms, and boundaries. Of the three, I think it’s the norms that contributed the most to my discomfort—the understanding that to be “one of us” you have to behave or think a certain way. It always felt so constraining and reductionist, as opposed to embracing the possibility that while we may have a common interest (like civic engagement, politics, or parenting), there’s diversity of beliefs and expression within that interest.
Expanding the community
In my opinion, community is different.
One of the best definitions of community I’ve read comes from a journal article published in 1919 by Mary Parker Follett. She describes community as a creative process of integration. “To integrate is not to absorb, melt, fuse or to reconcile,” she writes. “The creative power of the individual appears not when one ‘wish’ dominates others, but when all ‘wishes’ unite in a working whole.”
Status certainly may exist in communities at some level, but that tends not to be their focus. To seek status or to demonstrate it may, in fact, alienate you from the community instead of giving you leverage within it. Communities might have roles for organizational and logistical purposes, but while there may be a point person for the role, all members of the community are ideally encouraged to help and contribute.
Communities tend to be formed around common values, situations, or projects that function as the glue of the community, not norms. There are no formal expectations around the expression of values, and each member is able to choose for themselves as long as it’s not harmful, hurtful, or disruptive to the community. The magic of a community is the diversity of thought and practice. For this reason, the boundaries of communities tend to be more permeable, allowing for a variety of interested persons to engage or even watch from the sidelines.
About 10 years ago, I decided to join a local organic community garden. I had no gardening experience, so if there was any status to be gained based on experience, I was definitely at the bottom of the pecking order. The community had gardeners of varying experience levels, from 10+ years to just starting out like me. The more senior gardeners positioned themselves as there to support and encourage when needed.
The garden had a president and officers, but all members were expected to join a committee that helped take care of the garden; responsibilities were shared. The common value was that growing organic food was important, which meant no pesticide usage. What you grew, when, and how was completely up to you. We jointly discussed which community garden improvement projects to take on. Not only did my garden flourish in this space, so did I. I’ve thrived in other communities, too: writing communities, volunteer groups, online communities, and interfaith communities.
Shifting from groups to communities
I would be willing to bet that I’m not the only person who has struggled to feel truly at home in groups and who has grown weary of the cost of group membership, which to me can sometimes feel like having to give up a piece of myself to gain or maintain access. Perhaps there’s an opportunity, especially in today’s social climate, to encourage a greater proliferation of communities. A first step in this direction might be to conduct an audit to see how communitarian your group is. Here are a few ideas on how this might be done.
1. Structure. The structure of groups tends to be formal and status-based, whereas the structure of communities is more informal and egalitarian. A good starting point for groups interested in embracing the benefits of community is to ask: “What are the formal status markers of our group?”
If you’re not immediately sure of the answer to that question, consider asking it in a different way: “Who within the group has the most influence and why?” If you’re still not sure about the answer, invite someone who is not a member of the group to anonymously come to a meeting and observe; chances are the status structure will be immediately apparent to an outside observer.
Once you have a clear idea of the status structure of the group, here’s the next question: “How do we redistribute and broaden that status to other members who don’t have the identified characteristics?” If it’s the people who speak up the most who have the most status, then how do you develop other mechanisms to share ideas with the group, like surveys, forms, message boards, or listservs? Or perhaps it is status markers like educational level, professional background, or social connections that afford members status in your group. If so, how can you create a “blind” process when deciding on roles or elevating key ideas?
2. Norms. Groups tend to function by identifying members who are already a cultural fit for the group or willing to shift to become a fit, meaning they subscribe to the group norms. Communities integrate others in the spirit of a cultural addition—those who can enhance the existing culture, without having to replicate it in themselves.
It boils down to the difference between conformity (through imposed similarity) versus cooperation (across differences). To be clear, to greater or lesser degrees, all communities share a “do no harm” belief: Behaviors that are harmful to others are not permitted in order to keep members safe. Communities that don’t offer a safe harbor will decline. In this respect, cooperation has its limits.
Making this distinction between conformity and cooperation offers a clear pathway for groups to become more like communities. A focus on conformity causes group members to look at difference as bad, whereas an emphasis on cooperation encourages members to look at difference as an opportunity.
In fact, one study finds that just thinking about working with someone who is different from you can decrease your prejudice toward them; another study suggests that developing a reputation as someone who cooperates encourages others to cooperate with you, too.
Some questions groups wanting to foster greater cooperation can ask themselves: What are the norms of our group? What are the similarities that most members share, beyond the shared value, cause, or project? Which behaviors by members have caused admonishment, pause, or controversy? Was it because the behavior was harmful or was it because the behavior deviated from our group’s identity?
This area of adapting groups to be more like communities presents both the most promise and the biggest challenge, because it requires a behavior change for the group. A starting point may be for the group to discuss what they perceive to be the norms of the group and the areas of expected conformity—and then to discuss the potential benefits of shifting toward cooperation. This creates buy-in and accountability.
Next, begin to reward examples of cooperation. For example, if during a group discussion someone presents a contrarian idea, explore how it can be used to enhance or shift the existing direction, instead of tossing that idea out. A reward can be as simple as a positive call-out of the desired behavior, “Kim, that was a great redirection.” People tend to be more motivated to shift their behavior when there is a reward, even a social one like recognition.
3. Boundaries. The boundaries of groups are typically rigid, mostly allowing those who conform to the group’s norms to enter, whereas the boundaries of communities are more permeable, allowing a diversity of members to enter.
The resolution to this one may seem simple: that groups should start to encourage diverse membership. But as we know from workplace diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives, astute potential members don’t just want an invitation. They are also looking to make sure that the group is a welcoming place for them. So, start with addressing the first areas: structure and norms, moving away from status, and embracing cooperation. That will help create more flexibility in the boundaries of groups and a more conducive environment for diverse members.
Reflecting on my middle school peer-group experience, I now understand that the peer group I befriended behaved more like a clique—that is, a small exclusive group of peers, following all of the tenets of a group: structure, norms, and boundaries. In my adult years I have thrived in peer connections that function like communities, where the goal is not to absorb, melt, fuse, or reconcile, but rather to enrich each other through the full authenticity of who we are.
Although this article is clearly an argument for more community spaces, I recognize that there is absolutely a role and benefit to groups in our society. For example, we need groups to achieve tasks and goals more quickly (because the consensus-building process of communities can take time)—sometime speed is what’s needed. And communities are by no means utopias; it is very hard to escape the markers and impact of social status (education, race, gender). However, I think we can all benefit from intentionally choosing and creating communities. In a society that continues to contract and fragment, we need their potential for more expansiveness and interconnection.
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