Walking along the promenade at Venice Beach over break, I noticed something unnerving. Amid artists spray-painting Bob Marley, doctors issuing marijuana prescriptions and overwhelmed tourists lurked a void almost as palpable — a lack of interaction.
Men in sunglasses ignored greetings from women selling paintings. Women in bikinis refused to acknowledge compliments from men selling jewelry.
Questions such as “Are you hungry?” met resounding silence. Of course, this is commonplace. So many peddlers inhabit the limited boardwalk space that their density overwhelms tourists.
They know they must work relentlessly to earn even a second of attention. And tourists expect this kind of advertising. In such a crowded atmosphere, constant information about available goods simplifies shopping.
Thus, the desperate seller and the lazy buyer reach an unspoken mutual agreement. Vendors lay the peddling on thick, and tourists lay the disregard on thicker.
When a woman fails to even avert her gaze for a vendor’s greeting, he doesn’t take personal offense. Instead, he yells louder next time. And after several shouts of “hey, you!” the woman doesn’t grow annoyed and leave the beach, but instead becomes more interested in her conversation or cell phone.
This understanding may be mutual. It may be effective. However, it denies countless opportunities for meaningful human interaction.
Society constantly accuses communications technologies of stifling meaningful communication. The Unplugged Project, a movement against “digital media addiction,” declares, “digital and social media is destroying authentic human interaction.”
A group on Facebook itself has even complained that “Facebook Poking Stifles Meaningful Human Interaction.”
Often, however, the problem is not technology, but people.
Chances are a member of that Facebook group has recently ignored a real opportunity for meaningful human interaction — a request or greeting from a homeless person.
In his book Sidewalk, Mitchell Duneier investigates this phenomenon. Duneier reaches beyond the common physical safety argument, asserting in an article for the American Journal of Sociology, “people … felt a tension well out of proportion to any material or physical harm the interaction … might involve.”
He attributes women’s tendency to ignore homeless men to a fear of unwanted entanglement — an undesired obligation to carry on conversation.
People don’t fear conversation itself. They fear its accompanying obligation.
On Venice Beach, I made a conscious decision to ignore that fear. I spoke for about ten minutes with a traveling, homeless artist about what he wanted from life. I relieved my curiosity about how the marijuana license business functions. I thanked a lemonade salesman for his offer and told him to have a nice day.
None of these interactions were life changing. But they were all pleasant. They made my day — and hopefully theirs — just a bit more enjoyable.
After a few brief interactions, I gained an awareness of the color and diversity of Venice Beach, as well as the opportunities to learn in any urban surrounding. These interactions dissolved the sense of obligation that triggered my fear. In cyberspace, phones and computers make staying in touch simple enough to be obligatory.
But in public, physical proximity rules communication. When I grew tired of a conversation, I said goodbye and walked away.
Even if all you’re carrying is your debit card, tell that next panhandler on Mill Avenue to have a nice day. Take advantage of the freedom of public interaction.
Chat obligation-free with Alex at algrego1@adu.edu
