By William C. Shelton

In past columns, I’ve written about what an extraordinarily rich community Somervillians created and enjoyed in the first half of the Twentieth Century, and how it gradually disintegrated in the second half. Yet I don’t think I’ve ever clearly stated what I mean by “community.” It’s worth doing, because the word is used and misused to mean many different things.

Some use it to mean “place,” although where they live is often the only aspect that they share. Some refer to the “immigrant community” or the “Italian-American community.” Since immigrants come from different countries speak different languages, and observe different customs, it seems odd to me to think of them as members of the same community. Presumably, this use of “community” refers to whatever interests they share by being immigrants, or Italian Americans, or whatever. Some, who feel solidarity with each other, describe themselves as a “community.” In this latter sense, “community” is the third ideal of the French Revolution: Fraternity.

When I have used the word in my columns, I mean a rich and interweaving network of relationships in which people know each other and understand that what they share is more important than their differences. In community, these relationships-formal and informal-proliferate until they create a place for everyone as whole individuals. Community’s members are known for who they are rather than what they are. Their personal qualities are more important than their formal roles. In community, there is room for as many leaders as there are useful things to do, so there are leadership opportunities for all.

In institutions, including those that provide social and human services, relations are often hierarchical. In neighborhoods without community, relationships are nonexistent. In communities, relationships are more egalitarian. Because there is not an authority that defines the “right way” and “wrong way” to do things, communities find creative solutions to problems that institutions cannot.

They often do so quickly. When an individual loses a job, a loved one, or their mind, they need the immediate help and comfort that a community can provide. In its absence, they endure the weary isolation that comes with applying for food stamps, waiting for Social Security to decide, or being trapped within a mental health system from which they may never emerge.

In neighborhoods with community, we deal with each other as whole people. n those without community, we deal with each other by accident. In institutions, we deal with each other as roles.

In community, we are interdependent. To weaken one of us, weakens all.

Community is the greatest security that a neighborhood can enjoy. When neighbors know and trust each other, residential streets are not so much anonymous public spaces belonging to no one, but familiar territory that belongs to the neighborhood. Neighbors inquire when someone whom they don’t recognize is attempting to enter a neighbor’s home. They intervene when someone is being harassed on their street, friend or stranger, because it is their street, and because they know that their neighbors have their back.

The economic and cultural forces that destroyed community in Somerville were largely beyond the community’s control. Factory closures eliminated thousands of jobs in the same town in which workers lived. Suburbs held a powerful, but ultimately illusive, lure. Steady erosion of hourly wages obligated women, who were often the weavers of relationships, to enter the workforce, whether they wanted to or not. The cars that got people to out-of-town jobs, and the televisions that they watched to recover from working and commuting, reduced opportunities for interaction. Gentrifications brought thousands of professionals whose relationships revolve around where they work rather than where they live.

It is impossible for individuals or small groups to reverse the impact of such enormous forces. But we can choose to recreate community in limited contexts, like the few blocks surrounding where we live. We do this most effectively by organizing shared actions around matters that are so concerning that diverse neighbors are willing to take action, and that, in order to make a difference, require cooperation among all who participate.

If we create opportunities for specific and achievable changes to make real our 80%-shared vision of a good neighborhood, our diverse neighbors’ focus is not on each other’s differences, but on how to accomplish shared objectives. In the process of doing so, they develop relationships of trust and cooperation. They come to see the situation through each other’s eyes, understand each other’s differences, and appreciate those differences as assets rather than liabilities. They create community.