User:ZUZU/Thesis outline
⊹₊⟡⋆unnamed thesis ⊹₊⟡⋆
Intro
I explore the concept of 'nearby', not just as a geographical proximity, but as a sociological and emotional construct. Inspired by anthropological discourse, the term 'nearby' reflects the complex relationships and dynamics between individuals and their immediate environment. I cut through this concept and explore the forms in which action can be taken.
Chapter One
The disappearance of nearby
The inspiration for this research stems from my observations of daily life, particularly connecting my life in Shanghai with my current experiences in the Netherlands. Through this journey, I reflect on how proximity shapes human connections, community interactions, and individual agency. This work aims to provide a critical yet personal perspective on how "nearby" is perceived, constructed, and deconstructed in contemporary settings.
Living in Shanghai, a city characterized by its density and ceaseless pace, I often felt paradoxically distant from the people around me. Despite physical closeness, there was an emotional and relational void—a phenomenon I term "the disappearance of nearby."
During the COVID-19 lockdowns in Shanghai, this phenomenon became particularly stark. In a residential building where I lived for over three years, I encountered neighbors daily but never established meaningful connections. Our interactions, or lack thereof, reflected a broader urban trend: individuals existing side by side without forming genuine ties.
One vivid moment from that time stands out. I took a photograph of an elderly neighbour waiting for the lift, attracted by her outfit - a unique mix of quirky patterns that I found endearing. Although we lived in the same building, I didn't know her name or her story. Like many city dwellers, my neighbours and I shared a mutual indifference: during the lockdown, our building became a microcosm of imposed proximity. We were confined to the building for two months, unable to leave except for mandatory COVID-19 tests at unpredictable times - sometimes at 5am, sometimes close to midnight. The lifts, crammed with ten or more residents during these tests, became a surreal space of both enforced closeness and profound isolation.
As time went on, I began to feel suffocated. The rules were arbitrary and often absurd, but no one questioned them. Eventually, I couldn't help myself. I posted a message to the group outlining several logically flawed policies and asking for clarification from the administrators. What struck me was the response - or lack of it. Out of some 300 participants, not a single person engaged with my message. It was ignored, quickly buried under updates about group food purchases and other day-to-day concerns.
Later, when I challenged the policy a second time, a neighbour finally approached me - not to discuss my points, but to accuse me of being a foreign spy sent to undermine the government. This was the first "conversation" I had had with a neighbour in my three years there, though "conversation" might be too generous a term. It was an exchange, but one rooted in suspicion and absurdity.
The policies that governed our lives during the lockdown were emblematic of a broader societal trend: the prioritisation of collective narratives over individual voices.The disappearance of the neighbourhood is not just a by-product of urbanisation, but also a symptom of systemic alienation, exacerbated by technology and governance structures that prioritise control over connection.