Cambridge Dictionary defines urban as “a city or town” and inner city as “the central part of a city where there are often problems because people are poor and there are few jobs and bad housing.” For the purposes of this discussion, we use the term “urban” to signify a large city (and sometimes interchangeably with the term “inner city”).

Or so it seems to many. Kindness is mundane. Author Toni Morrison argues that we may not notice everyday goodness because, sadly, we have come to imagine goodness as “weak,” “boring” and “pitiful.” Research on kindness by sociologists Julie Brownlie and Simon Anderson supports Morrison’s claims. It appears we are drawn to the spectacle of unkindness, nastiness and narcissism. These ways of being may register powerfully for us because of the strong emotions they evoke — shock, fear, anger. But maybe there’s a deeper, more primal reason we notice the darkness more than the light. Our tendency to pay more attention to the darker side is rooted in an evolutionary phenomenon called our “negativity bias.” For early humans, being highly attuned to hostile, scary or threatening aspects of their surroundings was a matter of life and death. So it’s hardwired in our DNA.

We assume that urban dwellers are naturally hardened by the challenges of urban life. There is something seductive about stories of people who are so affected by the stress of the gritty city that they become unremittingly self-protective, thick-skinned and tough. This view of city residents pervades much of how we think. In fact, the renowned social psychologist Stanley Milgram proposed that city residents are so overloaded by the stress of city life that in order to survive they must limit who and what they pay attention to in their environments, and in turn limit the reach of their empathy. Of course, the truth is much more complicated. Research demonstrates that stress and suffering do not invariably lead people to close themselves off from loving and generous contact with others. In fact, psychologist Johanna Vollhardt has shown that people who have endured stress and adversity often use those experiences to fuel a commitment to caring compassionately for others.

We confuse ‘good’ and ‘bad’ places, with ‘good’ and ‘bad’ people. In our quest for shortcuts, we often conflate the physical conditions of spaces with the spiritual and moral character of their residents. We often assume that we are safe when we are in orderly, well-kept and highly resourced urban areas. We believe that the people who occupy these kinds of spaces are good, or at least that they are not harmful. Conversely, when we see images of urban areas marked by disrepair (broken windows, cracked sidewalks, graffiti) it evokes anxiety and fear, and we tend to equate these structural failings with the character and values of the people who live there. We make similar judgments about the ethnic and racial composition of urban spaces. Research has shown that through a steady diet of racist social messaging, we are taught to associate Black, Brown and poor people with crime and other forms of social disorder, even when crime statistics and personal experience clearly demonstrate no such relationship. It is difficult to override the stereotypes and biases that lead us to experience discomfort and fear, even when we are conscious of them. It is even harder to see goodness in the people we have been taught to fear.

Here is the irony. On any given day in any urban center, people commit millions of acts of kindness, some random and some habitual. Every day in urban schools — particularly those that lack funding — teachers use their own money to pay for classroom supplies. Every day in urban businesses, coworkers who notice the troubles of their peers take the time to listen. Every day in urban spaces, people open doors for others and take time out to comfort those who are hurting. In a variety of circumstances people give money or food to people in need. In urban churches, mosques, temples and gurdwaras people engage in common acts of charity. Every day in urban spaces, children forgive and protect each other, and adolescents help their parents, siblings and peers. In cities everywhere we can find people standing up to bullies and stopping to give directions to visitors who are lost. Every day in cities people give time and compassion to others.

In reality, kindness is everywhere in urban settings. So why do we frequently and uncritically lean into representations of cities as places of crime, indifference, meanness, narcissism or nihilism? Why don’t we first imagine cities as places of care, compassion, empathy and love?

Goodness is sometimes hard to detect because it shows up in unexpected ways. It is easy to regard the volunteerism of millions of urban residents as reflections of goodness. However, goodness does not always show up in intuitive ways. We sometimes miss the reality that collective and individual acts of justice that happen in cities are also evidence of goodness. Mass protests calling for boosts to the minimum wage, for fairer working conditions and for an end to violence against all human beings are collective acts of humanity and goodness. Research shows that when structures of power — including parents, schools and governments — fail to protect vulnerable people, empathetic individuals sometimes must stretch moral lines in order to care for those in need. People sometimes lie, in order to keep others safe. Children sometimes fight, in order to defend and protect their peers. Sometimes goodness is only properly understood when we understand the motivations behind it.

Why does it matter that we pay attention to goodness in urban areas? Because our reality is shaped as much by the stories we tell, as by the stories we don’t tell. When we repeat the narrative over and over of cities as places of crime and chaos, we may convince ourselves that goodness is the exception. We persuade ourselves that we are in perpetual danger. We may even stoke our own fears and build unnecessary walls between ourselves and those around us. When we ignore the opening of doors, the giving of food, money and time, and the hours of generous listening, we lose crucial opportunities to reinforce and cultivate the goodness around us. And when policymakers, police officers, social workers, store attendants and others who make decisions about the lives of urban-dwellers cannot envision urban dwellers as good people, the outcomes can be dire.

Cities and their inhabitants do experience significant challenges. Crime, hyper-surveillance, economic stress, noise and light pollution are all very real. And many of these challenges are prevalent in urban areas. However, we can acknowledge these truths while also acknowledging the abiding presence of goodness. Those of us who live and work in urban centers are steeped in everyday mercies and kindnesses. By ignoring the goodness of our loved ones, neighbors and strangers, by losing our trust in people, we risk creating the very world we fear — a world where goodness slowly ebbs away.

Beyond finding kindness in cities, OZY has taken a deep look at urban life around the globe. We’ve asked what makes a city click? Why do some fail? How are urban hubs around the world reinventing themselves to stay attractive to both existing residents and newcomers? Individual cities aren’t guaranteed perpetual growth. Detroit, once an epitome of America’s manufacturing prowess, and Aden, the Yemeni city that was the world’s second busiest port in the 1950s, are shadows of their former selves. One of the world’s first cities, Uruk, in Sumer, no longer exists. While other ancient urban hubs, such as Jerusalem, Athens or Damascus, are still vibrant metropolises. Below are just a few global lessons from urban life straight from the OZY archives:

Months — and in some cases years — of sieges and conflict with the Islamic State group have left large urban centers from the Middle East to Southeast Asia in ruin. Now freed, Mosul in Iraq, Marawi in the Philippines and Kobani in Syria aren’t just rebuilding what was destroyed — designers, residents and aid agencies are creating modern cities that address the social, economic and infrastructure shortcomings that allowed the Islamic State group to capture them in the first place.

Asia is home to the most ambitious “smart city” projects, from the UAE’s Masdar to India’s Amaravati to China’s Tianjin Eco-City, districts aiming to go completely green, with driverless electric cars and zero-emissions buildings. But the combined population of all these startup cities could fit inside one neighborhood of China’s Chongqing. Whether Asians can scale the innovations of their experimental zones to the level of their many megalopolis cities is the question whose answer will hold lessons for the rest of the world.

Port Elizabeth has long suffered a reputation as a cultural desert compared to Cape Town or Johannesburg. Now rare teamwork between the local municipality, the federal government and a growing band of entrepreneurs is allowing the city to use tax incentives and a low cost of living to attract creative professionals and businesses.

Spanish real estate developer Fernando Palazuelo lost most of his wealth in the 2008 economic crisis. So he did what many Spaniards did before him — look for opportunity in the Americas. In Lima, he found it, in the form of a historic city center left dilapidated by neglect from Peru’s wealthy elite. Palazuelo is now restoring Lima’s history — one that was built in part by his native nation.

What can you do to show kindness or love in your city? Join the conversation and share with us on FB, IG, Twitter with the hashtag #ElevatetheConversation #OZY #KindnessMatters #UrbanLove

Audience Comment

“I live in this village in Austin where we are lifting people off the streets, one person at a time. See Community First! Villages”

-- Paul

We want to hear from you! Do you feel like you regularly recognize kindness in your city? What does it look like? We’d love to hear your thoughts on examples of kindness and goodness around the globe. Write to us at: OzyCommunity@ozy.com and Take our Poll.