Friday, June 26, 2020

Too Close for Comfort? Or Too Far?


Have you expanded your COVID-19 bubble? 

Have you met up with friends at a picnic, on a patio, or at a street party — you know, with everyone sitting at a safe distance of 2 metres apart? (That's 6 feet for my American readers.)

Does it all just feel a little awkward? 

If you answered, "Good heavens, yes!" I think I know why. We are fighting with proxemics.

That's "PROXEMICS": The study of personal space in human interactions. 

Proxemics looks at the nonverbal communication we all use to comfortably define and accept spatial boundaries around us as we go about our daily lives. It's our "personal space" —  that invisible region that we regard as "our territory."

Think of it this way: If your space is invaded by a stranger, you will feel ill-at-ease or even anxious. You will instinctively back away. On the other hand, if someone dear to you approaches, you allow them inside your boundary because you don't mind them being up close and…well, personal. Simple, right? We signal to each other by our behaviour, facial clues, and body language whether or not we are okay with others entering our zone. Our space expands and contracts to accommodate whatever situation we're in — Intimate to Public — and who we are dealing with.

The measurement of these distances is intuited to some degree, as well as learned culturally. Spatial comfort zones vary around the world depending on societal norms, which suggests that proxemics is a "part nature, part nurture" proposition. The exact gauge for distance isn't universal, but human reaction to acceptable boundaries usually is. 

Edward T Hall, a cultural anthropologist, wrote the definitive book on the topic in, "The Hidden Dimension," (1963.) It was a text I used when I taught "Human Factors" to Interior Design students back in the 90s. I became fairly familiar with spatial dimensions —which can either support or disrupt how people engage. This is an important consideration for interior architecture — and also instructive for daily life.

Consider these four typically North American spatial zones:

PUBLIC — this category refers to crowds and audiences. Generally, we feel uneasy unless we stay a respectful distance of 3.6m (12'-0") away from a performer or speaker (try sitting close to someone reading poetry at a "salon" party and see if you don't get all squirmy.) And we like to be as much as 7.6m (25'-0") away from other people in public places. This dimension changes when we are in an elevator or at a restaurant, on a bus or airplane, or attending anything where we are bunched together with strangers. In these situations, we manage discomfort by avoiding touch or prolonged eye contact. When watching something on a stage or at a game, we generally all face in one direction.  

SOCIAL — say at a cocktail party, we will normally stand, sit, and mingle at about 1.2m (4'-0") apart for social chit-chat, and maintain anywhere up to a 3.6m (12'-0") span from other guests in the room if we don't know them, unless we invade their space to introduce ourselves. Social distance is also appropriate for work environments. If you walk into your boss's office to ask a question, you will likely stand 1.2m away. Good for talking, but not invasive. Social distance also applies to shopping and when you ask for help from a staff person. 

PERSONAL — you and a friend will enjoy a conversation anywhere from 0.6m (2'-0") to 1.2m (4'-0") away without feeling like our space is being invaded by a "close talker." Across a dining table, we are typically seated 0.9m (3'-0") apart. We sit a bit tighter in coffee bars, but this means that conversations can become chummier. 

INTIMATE — this zone ranges from hand shakes to hugs. You and your loved ones, including dear friends, gravitate to one another within a range of 0.0m (which is REALLY intimate!) to 0.6m (2'-0.") You will even accept a stranger into your Intimate zone when hand shakes are offered in friendship — or even hugs. 

Let's review the Personal/Social categories. Normally, when talking to friends we accept a distance of only 0.6m or 2'-0." For casual social encounters we will get as close as 1.2m or 4'-0"

And here's what health authorities are prescribing during the pandemic: a distance of 2m, or 6'-0" feet. Let that sink in. TWO METRES between us. (If you are American, that's a whole 2'-0" of extra space.) See what's happening here? This gap is fine when we are passing strangers on the street. But we are being asked to interact, converse, communicate, love-on our social groups at thoroughly unnatural distances. This is like being pre-teen wall-flowers at a junior high school dance. 

Two metres is the length of an adult bicycle or a queen-sized bed. Standing this far apart from a friend is like telegraphing, non-verbally, "I don't know you very well. EEK! Don't get too close!" The not-coming-near-me part is exactly what we are meant to be doing, but it's confusing the heck out of us! Our social bubbles are being thrust into the grander Public sphere. We need a whole new proxemic language to figure it out, but we haven't had time to evolve appropriate facial signals (and what if we are wearing a mask?) or body gestures to say, "I'm way over here. But I love you anyway!"

Have you watched a couple of not-from-the-same-household friends walking together? I bet you've noticed that they aren't 2m apart. It's almost impossible to do it. The most any of us seem to manage is 1.2m — we drift together at the far edge of the Personal zone.

Let's visit a driveway party. Let's say six couples circle their lawn chairs with 2m gaps measured between each pair. And everyone sits. No mingling. Everyone glances at each other across the Great Divide. Feeling awkward. It's like being at a really bad living room party waiting for the host to start charades. At a Pre-COVID-19 party, normally we would sit closer and chat merrily with someone next to us, get up and move on to another person, or linger at the buffet table (EEK! Buffet!!) with a small group of 3 or 4. But now, seated 2m from the next person, we feel like we have to shout, and everyone else can overhear. So our topic of conversation has to be for the whole group — and delivered as though we are making a speech because the circle is now approximately 3.6m (12'-0") across — that's the Public proxemics zone. Or, even more worse, we might feel like we should "go around," like at book club, and share a scintillating bon mot about someone else's topic. 

Social distancing is really hard because it just isn't in our upbringing or in our DNA. I am all onboard with doing it — don't get me wrong. We do need to keep ourselves and each other safe from this rotten virus. But let's admit it — it is NOT easy. 

So if you have corralled the lawn chairs to socialize with a bunch of friends, and just found it weird, don't be too hard on yourself. It isn't you, it's the proxemics. If COVID-19 social distancing hangs around for a while will we negotiate new spatial "norms." Will we adapt new hidden dimensions? Will we get used to plexiglass barriers and X-marks the spot where we need to stand? Will we learn to communicate, ever so subtly, that we need our space? (Other than shouting, "STAY AWAY FROM ME!" that is.) 

Or, as creatures of habit, will we get so tired of trying that our space bubbles will collide once again?

My strategy for keeping space is waving with Jazz Hands. Try it — it's friendly and fun. I'm over here! But I love you anyway! 




A couple of articles you might enjoy;

"Pandemic Proxemics: Is Six Feet Enough?" Jane Adams, PhD., Psychology Today, April 9, 2020


"Bodies in Space: How Architecture Could Help Us to Adapt to the Pandemic," Kim Tingley, New York Times Sunday Magazine, June, 14, 2020