I vividly recall the first time I observed a modern megacity from the air. It was about twenty-five years ago. I was an apprentice missionary on my way to Paraguay, and the trip from Madrid included a change of planes at Sao Paulo (pictured left) in Brazil. I already knew that Sao Paulo was one of the world’s great modern cities, but nothing prepared me for the sight of mile after mile of gleaming skyscrapers stretching far off into the distance. Sao Paulo was on a scale hitherto unimaginable for me. Peering out from either side of the plane, the city extended as far as the eye could see.
The thought of tens of millions of people living out their lives in that gigantic metropolis brought to mind the oft-cited comparison of human cities with huge colonies of ants. Observed from above, the whole thing seemed entirely planned, ordered and purposeful. As we approached the airport at a lower altitude, it was possible to make out tens of thousands of cars scurrying along a complex network of highways. The occupants all seemed to be heading for a definite destination, with a precise task to fulfil.
Giant cities like Sao Paulo, Cairo or the growing number of urban centres with tens of millions of inhabitants illustrate the extraordinary adaptability of human beings. While some people still choose to live in tiny rural villages, or even in the almost total isolation of a remote mountainside cottage, many of us prefer the buzz and anonymity of a big city. Increasingly, of course, most people have little or no choice in the matter. It is a simple fact that our species is increasingly urbanised as the demands of modern forms of production and consumption force people to abandon the countryside for the city. Large industrial estates and shopping malls require a concentration of people in relatively compact spaces.
The most obvious difference between life in a small village and a large city is one of scale. Village life is characterised by everyone knowing everyone else. Cities are much more anonymous. There is a limit to the number of people with whom we can interact on an intimate level. Beyond our circle of family and close friends, most of our dealings with other urban dwellers are on a strictly utilitarian basis. We have neither the desire nor the capacity to learn all the details of the lives of everyone who passes us by in the street or briefly enters our lives in the course of our commercial activity. For the most part, we don’t even know their names.
And yet, in spite of this mutual anonymity, we are all bound together in a social web that can only function properly on the basis of mutual trust and respect. For the most part, our belief that our fellow urban dwellers will behave much the same as ourselves is confirmed by everyday experience. We go about our daily business more or less unhindered. When that faith is put to the test by an act of dishonesty or aggression, we tend to be shocked. If such acts were ever to become so commonplace as to cease to shock us, urban life itself would probably be intolerable.
While the initial impulse behind the growth of modern cities may be economic, they invariably develop a multi-faceted character, in keeping with their complex human inhabitants. The logic on which modern cities are based dictates that people should both earn and spend enough money to keep the urban show on the road. In order to provide employment, we need to stimulate production of all kinds of goods. And in order to sustain production, we need to encourage consumption. But there is much more to any human community than mere economic survival. People everywhere also have an appetite for art, music, education and everything else that nourishes the mind and soul. The outskirts of large cities are often dominated by vast industrial parks and shopping malls. But at the heart of these same cities there are museums and theatres, cathedrals and universities. In a truly human environment, people need culture.
The products acquired in the shopping malls largely cater for our material wellbeing, but we also need to feed our mind and spirit. If our cities consisted merely of factories, apartment blocks and motorways, they would be bleak places indeed. In order to be happy in an urban setting, we also need attractive parks, places of recreation, beautiful buildings, libraries and opportunities for interaction and communication with other people on levels other than the merely commercial. We need a sense of ‘community’.
The main challenge facing modern cities is to preserve their human character by facilitating the growth of local communities. At the very least, urban coexistence should be based on an understanding that each individual’s interests are best served by the wellbeing of society as a whole and, conversely, society’s interests are best served by caring for the individuals who compose it.
When we speak of justice, solidarity and peace, we are referring to essential ingredients of our collective, communal wellbeing. Whenever these ingredients become scarce or totally absent, society itself begins to unravel and everyone suffers the negative consequences. Instead of being able to conduct our daily affairs on the basis of faith in the goodness and trustworthiness of our fellow citizens, we end up living in gated fortresses, protected from the ever-present threat of violence by sophisticated door locks, house alarms, security cameras and increased policing of our neighbourhoods. All of this may provide some measure of peace and security, but it also resembles life in a prison.
Alternatively, we can begin to address the human needs of all members of our urban societies by making an effort to construct genuine local communities. At all stages of life, human beings need to feel that they are recognised, respected and supported by a community. Many of the problems currently affecting alienated young people have their roots in the lack of community. For people of any age, having recourse to violence, drugs or, most drastically, suicide, is a clear statement that something essential is missing from their lives. At the other end of the life cycle, far too many elderly people live in fear and loneliness, feeling unloved and abandoned. In the years between youth and old age, many are left to cope with the stresses and strains of raising a family or paying the mortgage without feeling that anyone else cares or even notices.
For Christians, enduring faith in the possibility of an all-embracing global community is not rooted in any naïve belief that we can build heaven on earth by ourselves, but rather in our firm conviction that, eventually, God’s Kingdom of justice and peace will triumph over all adversity. In the meantime, one of our central and most urgent tasks is to contribute to the construction of small communities in our own local neighbourhoods. If our parishes and other Church-related groups become self-centred and fail to radiate a sense of community to society as a whole, something is not right.
Jesus said: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest”. That should be our message also.