The Alienation of Urban Life

From T. S. Eliot’s Preludes (1911), to Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks (1942) and, more recently, Radiohead’s OK Computer (1997), the alienation of urban life has been a well explored area of the arts. The percentage of the population living in towns and cities has been steadily increasing for hundreds of years, and further urbanisation seems to be an inevitability unless drastic changes are made in the Western world. 

The UN projects by 2050 that 68 per cent of the world’s population will live in urban areas. In the West, we are already well beyond this figure, with 82 per cent of the population in North America and 74 per cent in Europe living in urban environments as of 2018. Around 23 per cent of the world’s population, or 1.7 billion people, live in a city with at least one million inhabitants. Things are even more extreme in the UK, with 91.1 per cent of the population living in urban areas as of 2020. 

This creeping urbanisation appears to be a consequence of the establishment’s seeming insistence for government policies to propagate continual population growth, either through natural growth or propped up growth via immigration. We are continually told of the economic benefits associated with population growth and the convenience of city living; though whether this is true or not, we do not often consider whether the psychological costs of urban life are a worthwhile trade-off when considering its purported benefits. 

The phenomenon of urban alienation has a long and formal history in academic study. All the way back in 1915, foundational French Sociologist Émile Durkheim popularised the use of the term “anomie,” meaning alienation, dissatisfaction, and lack of purpose stemming from the breakdown of social standards and values. Durkheim believed this happened when society underwent rapid societal changes. He argued that in rural societies, the family, the village, and local traditions controlled and enforced the norms and values of the residents. The propagation of shared norms and values in turn led to an ordered society that was stable. In larger settlements, the diffused individuality weakened these otherwise shared principles, thereby leaving individuals feeling isolated and removed from the rest of the population, and effectively alone in the crowd. Despite Durkheim’s understanding of anomie being over one hundred years old, it provides a prophetic level of understanding to one of the many issues plaguing us in modernity. 

“Man cannot become attached to higher aims and submit to a rule if he sees nothing above him to which he belongs. To free him from all social pressure is to abandon him to himself and demoralise him.” — Émile Durkheim, Suicide: A Study in Sociology (1897)

It appears to me that the sheer number of people living in urban environments, especially a dense city, also creates an unconscious devaluation of one’s own self worth. The constant reminder of being but a very small cog in a massive machine has a diminishing effect upon one’s own ego. Ordinarily, we might think that restoring a person to a more humble state of mind can only be a good thing, but people need a sense of self-worth. It is difficult to establish yourself as being worthwhile when you are surrounded by people who could potentially replace you and your role in society.

It is no surprise that people react in a few contradictory ways in response to this existential threat. There are, of course, those who respond by withdrawing from society entirely, coming into contact with the outside world as little as possible. We can see this phenomenon in action in Japan with those described as hikikomori, or the “shut ins.” It is estimated that around a million such people exist in Japan, and this phenomenon is commonplace in the Anglosphere too. 

The opposite reaction to withdrawal is for people to try to reestablish themselves as a worthwhile individual through performative displays of individuality. These performative displays can take many forms; the manner of dress, interests, hobbies, and even personality could be altered, either consciously or unconsciously, to stake a claim to at least some social capital. Unfortunately, this is often not done in a healthy and beneficial manner with changes corresponding to authentic expressions of our true identity. Rather, such displays take the form of social peacocking. 

Often, this peacocking involves an individual seeking to draw in others through superficial expressions of worthiness without the underlying substance to support this perception. If you strip a peacock of its feathers, it is a bird like any other after all. This leaves those partaking in social interactions with one another feeling emptier than they would have had there been an authentic expression of one’s own values.

The relative anonymity of dense population centres also has a diminishing effect upon trust and social responsibility. Due to the number of people in these areas, customs such as simply saying ‘hello’ to someone on the street as you pass by are not practical. However, customs that reinforce the existence of a social circle outside of the people whom you already have pre-established relationships with reinforces the feeling of actually existing in a society that one needs to act responsibly to maintain. It is no mistake that urban areas are infamous for being covered in litter, chewing gum, and human filth. People take little pride in the appearance of their local area as there is little social accountability for doing so, and we feel less connected to the environment we share with others.

In recent years, the architectural philosophy of constructing buildings within urban areas has also changed, with the prevailing philosophy contending that buildings should be cheap and easy to construct. Gone are the days of old, where stone buildings with marble arches, detailed stonemasonry, and intricate patterns lined the streets. In their place are cold impersonal modules of glass panels, bricks, and steel. Like much of the modern economy, when we are done with using these buildings we can dispose of them in much the same way we would with the plastic packaging we find covering our items of food. There is little appreciation for history, permanence, and aesthetic beauty anymore. 

The urban environment presents little of aesthetic merit beyond the relics of prior eras that serve to remind us of how far from grace we have fallen. These disposable buildings cast a negative atmosphere over all who have the misfortune of coming into contact with them. In a comparable manner to being amongst nature evoking a sense of serenity, the ugly disposable masses of brick, concrete, and glass serves as an imposing reminder of our own impermanence and disposability. It is a well illustrated phenomenon that the external world influences our mood and emotions, and this fact should be something entirely obvious to all with an ounce of introspection. 

The final aspect worthwhile to consider is that city environments tend to be sensorily overwhelming. The hustle and bustle of urban areas requires more cognitive effort to process when compared with the relative tranquillity of rural life. Crowds of people weaving around one another and snippets of overheard conversation, likely in multiple languages, set to an ambient rumble of vehicles endlessly passing nearby. The smell of exhaust fumes obfuscating a combination of cooking food and urine soaked walls. Whether they might be aware of it or not, even veterans of urban life must exert a considerable amount of cognitive effort to maintain clear sensory perception with the sensory assault that this brings. 

Almost all projections of the future assume that large sections of human populations will be satisfied stacked on top of one another in high rise apartment buildings overlooking a densely packed yet aesthetically uninspired environment. That we pay high premiums for the convenience of living close to all the amenities we could want. That we tolerate an environment that appears to create a gradual degradation of our trust, values, norms, beliefs and emotions. However, I would argue that most people who tolerate urban life desire something more. We have an innate desire for fulfilment and it is my belief that urban environments are extremely ill-suited for this. With continual population growth, the possibility of our world returning to largely rural-based is extremely slim, but it is what seems necessary for our psychological well being. The slow erosion of our countryside in favour of soulless towns and cities is one of the greatest tragedies of the modern world.