Third places are disappearing, but communities have the power to protect them.
Third places are an integral part of civic life.
While you may not be familiar with the term, you regularly encounter a third place of some sort. Your local library, barbershop, and neighborhood cafe can all act as third places. In fact, Starbucks specifically identifies itself as a third place, aiming to “keep coffee and connection at the center.”
The term “third place,” as coined by author Ray Oldenburg in The Great Good Place, is “a generic designation for a great variety of public places that host the regular, voluntary, informal, and happily anticipated gatherings of individuals beyond the realms of home and work.”
In effect, these public places act as essential community hubs, facilitating casual connection and conversation. Moreover, these spaces are social “levelers,” meaning that they are neutral grounds for people of all socioeconomic strata to interact without the presence of classism, judgment, or exclusivity.
Third places, with their ability to unite and low barriers to entry, act as a formidable counter to the surge in social isolation, loneliness, and fragmentation.
They are, however, very much in decline.
The city of Dallas, for example, is planning to cut a number of vibrant third places in an effort to reconcile their budget. As reported by Emma Ruby in the Dallas Observer, “The Skillman Southwestern Branch Library in Northeast Dallas has been recommended for closure and could help save the city nearly $500,000 a year.” While this may sound like a fiscally sound decision, its social repercussions would be immense. Locals find solace and community at the library. Not just a place to read and research, the library facilitates social connection and offers residents regular programming, including a twice-monthly book club.
In an effort to placate library-goers, the city is flirting with the idea of installing “book vending machines” in the area. Jo Giudice, director of the Dallas Public Library, told Fox 4 that the machines would be similar to a “Coca-Cola machine,” where you would “put your library card in, open the door, as soon as you remove something, it pins to your library card like a minibar at a hotel.”
Does this feel like community to you? Because it feels pretty lacking to us.
City planner Rik Adamski, in an interview with the Observer, lamented the loss of third places, saying, “It's unfortunate to see even in the public realm that these places that served everybody, where you didn't have to spend money to go, are disappearing and are getting defunded.”
The story of the Skillman Southwestern Branch Library—which will most likely see its doors close, despite a laudable community-led effort to keep it open—is not an exception; it is becoming commonplace.
Third places are vanishing before our eyes—not because of any one explanatory factor, but rather as the cumulative result of our policy choices and shifting societal values and norms: changing from mixed- to single-use zoning laws; privatizing community gathering spaces; placing price tags on opportunities to interact; substituting in-person connection with social media following; becoming tribalistic and distrustful of others. All of these are culprits in the disappearance of vibrant third places.
The COVID-19 pandemic greatly exacerbated this decline, with coffee houses being transformed into what Michael Berne termed “utilitarian caffeine dispensers”—places devoid of social connection.
But it’s not all doom and gloom. There is hope for a revival of these vital sources of connection, and it lies with community change makers.
For example, in Hamilton County, Tennessee, residents had little access to outdoor third spaces. To tackle this problem, the local health department, school board, and community organizations came together to open school grounds to the public on weekends and holidays. The success of this effort has encouraged these partners to focus now on enhancing the school grounds with additional amenities that will serve both students and residents.
Similarly, city government officials and small business leaders in Long Beach, California, joined forces during the pandemic to implement an Open Streets initiative. Together, they transformed commercial streets into walkable community hubs that fostered stronger community connection and supported the local economy.
Community members are the experts on their own community’s strengths and needs, but they need more support to develop and implement effective, sustainable solutions. An article telling them we’re disconnected or that they should say hi to their neighbors more isn’t enough. How can they connect if their local library closes? They shouldn’t just bemoan these closures, though. Instead, they should be asking how they can stop these community spaces from being shut down in the first place.
Recognizing this need, the Foundation for Social Connection created the Action Guide for Building Socially Connected Communities to provide communities with evidence-based solutions and support so they can revitalize these essential spaces themselves. Users can explore successful initiatives from communities such as Hamilton County and Long Beach, learn how to create cross-sector partnerships, find compelling community-level statistics and effective PSA examples, and more.
Book vending machines and caffeine dispensers, while they may be convenient, simply cannot fill the void left by the disappearance of a treasured third place.
Together, through united community action and impactful strategies, we have the power not only to halt this troubling trend but to weave a stronger, more vibrant social fabric that uplifts us all.
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Nice article!
Wonderful article, so sad we are losing these Third Places.