[:sk]Mestom / PRIESTOR PRE OSAMELOSŤ[:en]Through the City / A SPACE FOR LONELINESS[:]

[:en]They were my alibi from the gaze of others[:]

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Boli mojím alibi pred pohľadmi iných

Jedného dňa som sa rozhodla vrátiť do knižnice Spolky dve desiatky kníh, ktoré sa zázračne ocitli u mňa doma. Prečítala som si z nich len jednu, ostatné ku mne doputovali kvôli strachu pred pohľadmi iných ľudí.
Začalo sa to zvykom ísť po pracovnom dni na kávu sama so sebou a bezcieľne pozorovať dianie okolo. Namiesto toho, aby som bez povšimnutia ostatných pozorovala svet, terčom pozornosti som sa často stala ja – mladá žena posedávajúca v kaviarni sama – bez kamarátov, knihy, slúchadiel, počítača či mobilu poruke (ten mám skoro vždy vybitý, takže mi nevie zabezpečiť fiktívne čaro zaneprázdnenosti). Bez ničoho a nikoho vedľa seba som sa pred ľuďmi cítila obnažená. Na Slovensku často nevidieť osoby sediace len tak osamote, bez počítača či skorého príchodu prísediacej osoby. A tak som so sebou začala brávať tie najľahšie a najmenšie knihy z našej kancelárie. Za každým som si len nepoctivo prečítala abstrakt a pomedzi to lenivo posedávala a pozorovala svet dookola. Za knihou som sa cítila ako za zázračným štítom prítomnosti iného človeka (prítomného síce iba v riadkoch knihy), nesedela som už sama a hneď bolo všetko v poriadku. Knihu som potom väčšinou doniesla domov a ponechala ju zabudnutú na stole. Každú čakal podobný osud, boli mojím alibi pred pohľadmi iných.

Autorka: Kristina Roman.

Čoraz častejšie narážam v literatúre a odborných debatách [1] na tvrdenia o tom, ako mestské prostredie, jeho atmosféra a konkrétne atribúty ovplyvňujú nielen fyzické, ale aj duševné zdravie spoločnosti. Osamelosť nie je v kontexte tvorby mestských politík novým fenoménom, ide o celosvetovo rastúci problém, v našom regióne, ovplyvnenom kapitalistickým individualizmom, o to výraznejší (čo sa odráža napríklad vo vízii “nulovej osamelosti” niektorých britských miest [2]). Súčasne je uznanie nákladov na osamelosť v kontexte verejných financií a zdravia ľudí relatívne novým fenoménom: samota a osamelosť predstavujú pre verejné zdravie vážne riziko – spájajú sa s obezitou, srdcovými poruchami, nedostatkom fyzickej aktivity, psychickými problémami a ďalšími zdravotnými komplikáciami. V niektorých krajinách, ako napríklad v severských štátoch, Veľkej Británii či v Japonsku, môže takéto riziko dosahovať kritickú úroveň. Preto ma zaujalo skúmanie súvislosti medzi osamelosťou a verejným priestorom.

Pri mestskom plánovaní ide často o snahu znížiť subjektívny pocit osamelosti prostredníctvom väčšieho počtu príležitostí na sociálnu interakciu vo verejnom priestore, čo môžeme pozorovať aj na Slovensku (napríklad už len pri sledovaní množstva vyhlásených súťaží na tvorbu verejných priestorov). V reakcii na to sa urbanistický dizajn zameriava predovšetkým na navrhovanie parkov, námestí, kultúrnych inštitúcií, ktoré ľudí vo verejnom priestore spájajú. Tieto návrhy však majú tendenciu podporovať spoločenskosť medzi už spojenými ľuďmi a neriešia sociálne potreby osamelých ľudí, ktorých vo verejnom priestore prítomnosťou iných ľudí často odrádza. Pokusy odstrániť samotu ju môžu dokonca prehĺbiť, naopak vytváranie väčšieho priestoru pre samotu môže, podľa nedávnych štúdií [3], zmierniť jej bolestivosť. S tým súvisí aj to, že na verejnosti je vo všeobecnosti málo priestoru, kde by sa ľudia mohli cítiť zle, pričom osamelosť patrí skôr k tým nepríjemným pocitom. Zanedbáva sa aj široká škála ďalších skúseností s osamelosťou a samotárstvom, nielen tých, ktoré súvisia so sociálnou izoláciou a nedostatkom kontaktu s inými. Osamelosť môže byť spôsobená hlbokými vnútornými traumami, nespokojnosťou so životnou situáciou a ďalšími individuálnymi dôvodmi. V osamelých ľuďoch to môže vyvolávať pocit, že nezapadajú do spoločenských noriem, čo môže mať dôsledok v limitovaní svojho pobytu vo verejnom priestore a zároveň v obmedzení možnosti rozvíjať svoju príslušnosť k miestu alebo ku komunite.

Neznamená to, že urbanistický dizajn, ktorého cieľom je podporovať sociálne väzby, nie je v boji proti osamelosti užitočný. Ide o jeho rozmanitosť. Mnohí samotárski ľudia uprednostňujú čas strávený osamote, lebo im pomáha reflektovať a vyrovnávať sa so svojimi negatívnymi emóciami a skúsenosťami. Dôležité však je, že nezapojenie sa do spoločenských aktivít nemusí nutne znamenať, že sa jednotlivec chce uzavrieť do svojho domova (ak vôbec nejaký má). V ideálnom prípade by mala infraštruktúra mesta ponúkať možnosti spojiť sa, a zároveň žiť pohodlne vedľa seba, ale osamote. Mesto by malo slúžiť ako platforma pre emocionálnu sebareguláciu. [4]

Byť single

Foto: Kristina Roman, 2021.

Malá viditeľnosť osamelosti môže signalizovať, že cítiť sa osamelo alebo chcieť byť sám je nezvyčajné alebo neprijateľné, čo môže osamelosť len zvyšovať. Dizajn verejného priestoru by mal preto vyzývať ľudí, aby ho používali a navštevovali aj sami, aby mohli byť aj samotármi. Jedným z nástrojov môže byť napríklad mobiliár, ktorý je určený alebo prispôsobený aj pre jednotlivcov, môže teda vizuálne normalizovať osamelosť. Kým lavičky v parku zdôrazňujú nenormálnosť sedenia osamote, solitérne posedenia nesignalizujú neprítomnosť iných. [5]

Vzhľadom na túto problematiku by malo mesto svojím dizajnom odovzdávať ľuďom, ktorí zažívajú pocit samoty, odkaz o prijatí a bezpečnosti. Ide o bezpečnosť aj v zmysle sociálnej bezpečnosti verejných priestorov, kde by sa človek nemusel cítiť negatívne hodnotený a odmietaný pre svoju samotu. Riešením je mestský dizajn a verejné politiky, ktoré výraznejšie zohľadnia potreby jednotlivých používateľov. Dôležitou súčasťou premeny je tlak na vytvorenie miest pre jednotlivcov aj v občianskych zariadeniach, kaviarňach, ďalších miestach pre stravovanie atď.

Foto: Kristina Roman, 2021.

Napríklad, často sa cítim byť vo verejnom priestore príliš viditeľná alebo vystavená pohľadom okoloidúcich. Pre človeka, čo sa ľahko vyčerpáva po interakcií s inými ľuďmi (aj keď len s okoloidúcimi), je to náročné. Osamelosť je pre mňa spojená s plachosťou, podráždenosťou a sociálnou úzkosťou. Nepríjemnému vystaveniu môžu zabrániť rastliny, rôzne druhy vegetácie, malé architektonické intervencie, bezpečné zákutia a mestský mobiliár, ktorý signalizuje právo sedieť sám/ sama.

[:en]One day I decided to return two dozen books to the Spolka’s library that had miraculously found their way into my home. I had only read one of them, the others had come to me for fear of other people’s stares.
It started with the habit of going out for coffee with myself after a day’s work and aimlessly observing the happenings around me. Instead of observing the world unnoticed by others, the target of my attention often became me – a young woman sitting in a coffee shop alone – with no friends, book, headphones, computer or cell phone (the latter is almost always dead, so it can’t provide me with the fictitious charm of busyness). With nothing and no one beside me, I felt naked in front of people. In Slovakia, you don’t often see people sitting alone, without a computer or someone arriving soon. So I started taking the lightest and smallest books from our office with me. Behind each one, I just idly read the abstract and sat lazily in between, watching the world go by. Behind the book, I felt like I was behind the miraculous shield of another person’s presence (present, admittedly, only in the lines of the book), no longer sitting alone, and all was well at once. I usually brought the book home afterwards and left it forgotten on the table. Each one met a similar fate; they were my alibi from the gaze of others.

Author: Kristina Roman.

Loneliness in the city is growing

Increasingly, I come across claims in literature and professional debates [1] about how the urban environment, its atmosphere and particular attributes affect not only the physical but also the mental health of society. Loneliness is not a new phenomenon in the context of urban policy-making; it is a growing problem globally, and in our region, influenced by capitalist individualism, all the more pronounced (as reflected, for example, in the ‘zero loneliness’ vision of some British cities [2]). At the same time, the recognition of the costs of loneliness in the context of public finances and public health is a relatively recent phenomenon: loneliness and isolation pose serious risks to public health – they are associated with obesity, heart disorders, physical inactivity, mental health problems and other health complications. In some countries, such as the Nordic countries, the UK and Japan, the risk can reach critical levels. I was therefore interested in exploring the link between loneliness and public space.

Urban planning is often about trying to reduce the subjective feeling of loneliness through more opportunities for social interaction in public space, which can also be observed in Slovakia (for example, just by looking at the number of competitions announced for the creation of public spaces). In response to this, urban design focuses primarily on the design of parks, squares, cultural institutions that bring people together in public space. However, these designs tend to promote sociability among already connected people and do not address the social needs of lonely people, who are often put off by the presence of other people in public space. Attempts to eliminate loneliness may even exacerbate it; conversely, creating more space for loneliness may, according to recent studies [3], alleviate its poignancy. A related issue is that there is generally little space in public for people to feel uncomfortable, with loneliness tending to be one of those uncomfortable feelings. A wide range of other experiences of loneliness and isolation are also neglected, not just those related to social isolation and lack of contact with others. Loneliness can be caused by deep internal traumas, dissatisfaction with one’s life situation and other individual reasons. It can cause lonely people to feel that they do not fit into social norms, which can result in limiting their stay in public space and also in limiting their ability to develop their belonging to a place or community.

This is not to say that urban design, which aims to promote social connections, is not useful in the fight against loneliness. It is about its diversity. Many lonely people prefer to spend time alone because it helps them reflect and cope with their negative emotions and experiences. Importantly, however, not engaging in social activities does not necessarily mean that an individual wants to withdraw into their home (if they have one at all). Ideally, a city’s infrastructure should offer opportunities to connect while living comfortably side by side, but alone. The city should serve as a platform for emotional self-regulation. [4]

Being single

Photo: Kristina Roman, 2021.

Low visibility of loneliness can signal that feeling lonely or wanting to be alone is unusual or unacceptable, which can only increase loneliness. The design of a public space should therefore encourage people to use and visit it, so that they can also be alone. One tool can be, for example, furnishings that are also designed or adapted for individuals and can therefore visually normalise loneliness. While park benches emphasize the non-normativity of sitting alone, solitary seating does not signal the absence of others. [5]

With this issue in mind, the city’s design should convey a message of acceptance and safety to people experiencing loneliness. It is also about safety in the sense of the social safety of public spaces, where one might not feel negatively evaluated and rejected because of one’s loneliness. The solution lies in urban design and public policies that take greater account of the needs of individual users. An important part of the transformation is the push to create places for individuals also in civic facilities, cafés, other places for eating, etc.

Photo: Kristina Roman, 2021.

For example, I often feel too visible or exposed to the gaze of passers-by in public spaces. For a person who gets easily exhausted after interacting with other people (even just passersby), this is challenging. For me, loneliness is associated with shyness, irritability, and social anxiety. Unpleasant exposure can be prevented by plants, different types of vegetation, small architectural interventions, safe nooks and crannies, and urban furniture that signals the right to sit alone.

Sitting alone

The only public place where I feel like myself is a cemetery. There no one will judge me for the sad look on my face, or for doing nothing and being alone. I never hear a disrespectful remark. I sit alone and no one comes near me. People respect each other here, they like each other a little more than in the city. I feel safer here.

You will rarely find just one chair at a table in a café or restaurant, and there are no reserved seats in public spaces for single people. Seating tends to encourage sociability. In many ways we are used to being together, just not in our solitude.

Sitting alone, which implies a quick snack and moving on (e.g. in a café or at lunchtime in a bistro), is a fairly common practice and the stigma in these circumstances is not perceptible or outwardly visible for most of us. However, as soon as there is a demotivating and sustained enjoyment of one’s own company, there is a significant change in the perception of such an experience. The absence of tables for individuals in the restaurant suggests that being alone is unusual and undesirable in this setting. The status of a single person who is not in a relationship (voluntarily or involuntarily) and functions as a loner for long periods of time is not part of the generally accepted order of things. However, the stigma of singleness seems to extend beyond relationship status. After all, being out in public with friends is usually just as acceptable as being with a partner or family. For example, people who want to dine alone may feel uncomfortable and therefore be less likely to come and stay. Observing another individual who seems content to dine alone can help to understand that the absence of a partner is not a negative experience. The element of solitary seating, although spatially invisible, is an ideologically important element. It will signal to the system as a whole that solitude is also accepted and welcomed.

Sitting in parks can be seen as places of self-care and connection with nature. They allow one to sit and observe public space without actively interacting with others. In reality, however, there are relatively few spaces where one can be alone. With a few exceptions, such as public transport or libraries, the concepts of ‘public’ and ‘solitude’ in architecture are usually seen as opposites. Public space in cities is largely defined by its spatial characteristics, but also programmatically for gathering rather than spending time alone. [6]

Kulturpark, Košice, photo: Ján Tekeľ.

A positive example is the urban initiative Sadni si! [Sit down!] in Bratislava and many other similar projects in metropolises. In Vienna, for example, there are sofas in front of the Museumsquartier, which do not have a strictly defined way of use – whole groups can sit on them, or individuals can lie on them. Similar furniture can be found in Slovakia in front of the Kulturpark in Košice. In line with this principle, Starbucks offers round tables rather than rectangular ones, which define the number of people seated more clearly. Even such a small change as the seating typology can manifest and change the issues of loneliness and solitude, creating the prerequisite for a more favourable and sensitive future.

Being vulnerable

The feeling of loneliness is familiar to all of us, but some groups are much more vulnerable to it. Often these are groups that do not have active tools at their disposal to combat loneliness. This is due to the increase in the number of elderly people, or also to intensive urbanisation and modernisation. Another important finding is that higher levels of loneliness are observed in lower income or stigmatised groups. Many studies, as well as personal experience, argue that women who enter public space alone are stigmatised more strongly than men.

Conversely, people who can afford paid services have more opportunities for social interaction and participation, and are less at risk of loneliness. Other protective factors, such as large household size, strong family ties, friendships, marriage and good health, reduce people’s vulnerability to loneliness. While loneliness at home is another topic for discussion, it is important to at least be aware of the link between the atmosphere and circumstances in the home and the opportunity to interact in public spaces. Particularly for older people, household composition is a strong predictor of loneliness, compounded by the fact that aging residents have a smaller radius of action and are therefore limited in their mobility and ability to interact socially [7].

Another characteristic of mobility that includes the opportunity to socialize is walkability. People who live in walkable neighborhoods are more likely to participate in events, know their neighbors, and be socially engaged. Residents of walkable green neighborhoods have more social interactions and are less prone to loneliness than people who live in less green neighborhoods. Particularly for vulnerable groups of people, neighbourhood social cohesion is an important indicator of life satisfaction.

Conclusion

I like to leave messages on traffic lights for other people. I also like to read them. They help me not to be alone, to communicate with people without actually speaking to them.

After reading the text, one might think that I am exaggerating a problem that is not so well-founded. However, when one starts to look at the city through the lens of loneliness, one will find that loneliness may be undesirable, or at best unacceptable, for the city or the people living in it. Loneliness comes in many forms and does not always mean being sad and crying, but also being at peace, observing, enjoying one’s own company. We fight loneliness unconsciously, almost like death – we avoid talking about it, we confine lonely people as far away from parks and squares as possible behind the walls of our apartments, institutional facilities or in virtual space. It is as if we pretend that loneliness does not exist, and so a city adapted to happy and sociable people acts as normality. In doing so, loneliness is felt by each and every one of us. We can argue that loneliness is as much a part of the human experience as joy or sadness. It is experienced by most of us at some time in our lives, and is common to people across cultures. Overall, however, there seems to be a disconnect between what many people who feel lonely need and what urban design offers and communicates.

It is important that we move towards a more diverse understanding of loneliness and include in our planning, among other things, spaces for solitude, spaces for observing others, and various small additions to urban furniture that allow users to engage interactively with their environment. The role of the city is to offer all its inhabitants a safe space that reduces social stigma. A sense of belonging can be fostered by design solutions that create space for solitude as well as various integration initiatives. These can be, for example, the possibility to exchange information with others through graffiti, artistic interventions or posters, or the possibility to participate in social and cultural life without an input investment (free film screenings, concerts, etc.) It is important that each of us has the right to feel loneliness and not to be alone in it.

Author: Kristina Roman.

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