McNeill says children are expensive to raise in cities, and difficult to nurture in large part because we have no real communal sense. "The underlying reality is that we have not found any satisfactory substitute for village communities as nurturers of the young (and sustainers of the old)," he writes. But there's a deep human need for the kind of stability that traditional village life has always provided. In cities, he says,
urban mobility permits like-thinking persons to come together and agree to enforce explicit moral standards of behavior among themselves. By far the most common and powerful basis for such vountary associations is religious commitment. Yet the costs of religious commitment are also real, especially when it sets the community of believers against the rest of the surrounding society.
Trying to shift back and forth between one set of manners for the in-group, and another for the much larger out-group, is difficult. Moreover, whereas the stability offered by inherited custom in village life is a given, in a city it's a deliberate choice -- and virtually impossible to maintain over the long haul. Thus to build and maintain bonds under such dynamic conditions, believers have to be intensely devoted. Writes McNeill: "Is it any wonder, therefore, that what is often termed 'fundamentalist' religious is overwhelmingly an urban phenomenon?"
[Along those lines, by all means read Olivier Roy's discussion of Islamic fundamentalism as a response to globalization and modernization. I'll post on it separately later.]
McNeill says the rapid urbanization of the planet will bring divergent and intensely devoted religious groups in closer contact with each other, with unpredictable results. Still, he says,
religious groups operating in urban settings still have not found a way to mimic the nurturing and supportive roles that came naturally to semi-isolated villagers. American Protestant megachurches notwithstanding, no cakes of custom within which millions of strangers can comfortable conduct their lives have yet shown up. Perhaps they never will.
If McNeill is right, this has implications for what we've been discussing as the Benedict Option -- that is, groups of families and others consciously withdrawing to a certain extent from the mainstream in order to pioneer alternative ways of living out the virtues in community. His essay suggests that it's not really possible in an urban setting. But here's the thing: it's also problematic in a village setting too. I've written with love and admiration this morning about how the village is coming together to help my family while my brother-in-law is away in the war, but it's also true that there is no longer an enforceable (by custom and consensus) and clear set of moral standards governing behavior, sexual and otherwise, in villages. My sister and I live in very different settings, but thanks to mass media, we're raising our children in much the same culture.
Another challenge, it seems to me, is labor. If I wanted to pick up and move with like-minded families from our church and relocate to a more rural setting so we could raise our kids in community, it would be virtually impossible because of the kind of work we do. As a writer, it would be easier for me to telecommute, but I'm guessing that I'm the exception. My friends and I are all engaged in forms of symbolic analysis -- the abstract manipulation of concepts, as opposed to concrete work (e.g., baking bread, building furniture). We depend on urban civilization for our livelihoods. That being the case, it seems that the only possibility open to us is to dedicate ourselves and our families to each other and our little church platoons, and hope that our children will defy McNeill's prediction.
Thoughts?

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Isn't the idea of living in these Utopian communities that having high tech/intellectual trades isn't really helpful to the community? Who do you think is going to grow the food, make the food, build the homes, watch the children while you are busy on the computer? The reality is these kinds of communities also require people to abandon their privilieged lives and occupations and instead focus their efforts on the common good, not the personal ego.
Rod: but it's also true that there is no longer an enforceable (by custom and consensus) and clear set of moral standards governing behavior, sexual and otherwise, Enforceable by whom? People all over the US evacuated small towns for the cities all the time. They didn't want to live there, subject to gossip and ostracism. (I'm not talking about criminals, but rather people who simply didn't "fit in.") There's an old WW I song, "How you gonna keep 'em down on the farm / After they've seen Paree?" The soldiers in WWI were overwhelmingly from rural backgrounds; some had never left their remote holler or village until they left to go to war. In Europe they encountered French post cards, lingerie, cafes (which managed to stay open even during the war), brothels, cabarets, and all the other seductions of big city life. General Pershing tried to keep his men from it, but to no avail. The point is, hiding out in a rural enclave means nothing today - not because people have TV, but because universally, many people want to move from country to city. By the end of WW I, the country had lost the vast majority of its rural population, and the Great Depression just about finished off the rest. As Susan said, what remains now is not "farming" as we think of it in the quaint early 19th c. sense, but simply industrialization writ large across the face of the countryside. It's not bucolic, it's not community-building; in many cases it can ravage and destroy communities. But as Susan said, how else are we going to provide 49 cents a pound chicken to people, as opposed to $4.99 a pound free-range organic chicken? It doesn't seem like much when children are small and don't eat much, but try feeding 3-4 teenagers and young adults (especially young men who are physically active) on organic-food-mart food. You'll go broke. So US "customs and traditions" have never been that enforceable - there's always been the option to move. But then again, there's always been the option for the children to move as well, when they decide they don't want to live like *their* parents.
If you try to enforce customs and traditions those who object will crush you in court. If you try to create a closed community where customs and traditions are enforced, you will probably end up in prison or worse, like Waco.
What CC is describing is a "ghetto", and I use that term in a positive sense: a community that self-isolates for purposes of identity. Jews and Catholics come to mind. Their lives form fences around themselves to maintain identity and religious continuety.
Zak, fabulous post. For reasons stafanie elaborated, bucolic village life doesn't exist in the US. Spiritually, it doesn't exist in the West. I travel back and forth to East Africa 2-3x per year doing mission work and experience village life of old first hand. The community expectation that all live up to a highly defined set of standards may grate on "freedom" loving Westerners and feel terribly stifling, but most of the inhabitants are mystified by our do-what-you-like disconnected way of life. Having experienced both, I wonder at what cost our 'personal freedom' has come. I'm sorely tempted to pack up and move to a Maasai village in Tanzania...
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