I was genuinely touched, not to mention impressed, while reading the various articles in this module relating to State and Public Libraries Victoria, in Australia, and their initiatives regarding community wellbeing and combating loneliness. It is a standard for considerate, humane, community-oriented policy that I think any library should aspire to and try to incorporate into their mission, values, and vision statements. And that goes beyond public libraries, though of course it is of paramount importance to them: Academic, research, and other libraries serve communities too, of all shapes and sizes, and all have their role to play in combating the loneliness epidemic that we have all heard so much about over the last decade.
Indeed, the ways in which libraries help people feel less lonely, or give them a “booster shot” for their social immune system to protect against loneliness, are myriad. On the one hand, we provide community-oriented services and programs with the explicit intention of bringing people together and forging social connections. This can look like anything from book clubs, to communal arts and crafts, or yoga and meditation sessions: the only limitation is the creativity and imagination of the library. Establishing and strengthening social relationships is critical to helping combat feelings of loneliness and social isolation, and thereby helping to mitigate or prevent the avalanche of negative physiological and psychological outcomes that are so highly correlated with both, ranging from early mortality to risk of essentially all forms of dementia. Such robust findings paint this equation of loneliness’s lethality in a stark light and are enough to give anyone pause, and might just inspire you to go out and take up a new hobby to meet new people, or even just call a friend or family member to check-in — or start a new program at your local library!
But programming is not the only way for fostering feelings of social connection, and thereby mitigating feelings of loneliness. Research suggests that small moments of sociality can be as potent as more explicitly social experiences like spending time with friends or meeting new people. Pop psychology and wellness blogs helped coin the term “micro-moments“, while established researchers have begun to use write about “positivity resonance” and the importance of “weak ties” and “minimal social interactions” to an individual’s wellbeing.
You don’t have to be an expert in this field of research to see the applicability of these concepts to libraries and how they interact with their communities. It is inspiring to think that we provide the rich, fertile ground for so many different kinds of social connection and interaction. It’s hard not to extend this into a garden analogy: our public programs are like resplendent trees that spring forth bearing fruits and beautiful flowers, carrying obvious benefits; at the same time, there is lush, soft grass underneath, and beneath that are fungi, soil, and all manner of beneficial organisms, not cared for as painstakingly as the trees and flowers above, but no less critical to the beauty of the whole garden and to its flourishing. The foundational services we provide, our mere presence, is this ground. Just a warm smile or asking how someone’s day is can make all the difference to a person, to their day, and how they interact with others and the world generally going forward. I can certainly think of times when it has for me, where a comment or compliment has turned a bad day on its head. If a library is open 6 or 7 days a week, 8 hours a day or more, how many opportunities does that add up to? Working at public libraries, it isn’t long before you start to recognize the folks that have been patrons for decades, or the kids that literally grew up in the library. Before your eyes is the living tapestry of connections that are formed over the course of years as a library is embedded and interwoven within a community.
Before I wrap up this reflection post, I want to briefly introduce a topic that is not represented in this module’s materials, yet bears heavily upon their themes. Within the fields of sociality and loneliness research, an interesting new topic of study has emerged within recent years: solitude, and its possible positive effects as a foil (or counterpart/counterbalance) to loneliness. I had the privilege of doing a deep dive into this burgeoning area of study during my final year of study at Reed College, culminating in my Bachelor-level thesis in psychology. I won’t provide an exhaustive literature review here, but suffice to say that empirical evidence is mounting the case for solitude as a positive, nourishing dimension of the human experience that complements our social lives rather than standing in opposition to them. In fact, one’s perceptions of alone time might be a critical factor in their risk for and experience of loneliness. Dr. Thuy-vy Nguyen’s Solitude Lab is a great introductory resource for any overview of this research, be it exploring the theoretical and empirical foundations for study, or understanding the current state of research in the field.
All that is to say that libraries support people by also letting them be who they are–to be complete in their individuality, apart from other people. Libraries should remember that socially oriented programs are not the key to every patron’s personal flourishing. A public programming librarian myself, I find it enjoyable to contemplate programs in which people can simultaneously congregate for a common person while being free to keep to themselves. My library’s Knits and Knots Nook is a great example of this: people are free to show up and start or continue working on all manner of crafts projects, from crocheting to quilting and beyond, and are invited to socialize or keep to themselves as they please. Other libraries and coffee shops do “Silent Bookclubs”, which I would love to implement at my own library, and self-care workshops that prioritize individual wellbeing.
I think many of us current and/or aspiring information professionals can easily conjure the image of the solitary, studious patron hunched over a book at a library desk, or lounging in a chair with newspaper in hand. Today, perhaps it’s simply a patron at their computer with headphones on and phone at hand. Such library models may seem old-fashioned or insufficient for our modern digital age, especially in light of the Hyperlinked ethos. I wonder if there might yet be value to these rather dusty, antiquated ideals, though; if they can inform how we adapt our services in this rapidly evolving age. Not all libraries need be silent, scholarly catacombs; nor do they all need to be buzzing, cacophonous commons. Space can be made for both sides of the spectrum and spaces can be made for both models of service. In the end, I would just love to see solitude mentioned more in all of these hyperlinked conversations: it is wonderful to see all the ways people are connected to each other, but let’s not forget about how people are connected with themselves.