By Deborah Ong
Amidst the many seasons of my life – from sweltering Singapore, to hectic Hong Kong and vibrant Melbourne – café and coffee shop culture has often been central for me as an anchor for community and connection.
Singapore has its kopitiams and neighbourhood coffee shops, Hong Kong has its cha chaan tengs, and Melbourne has its bustling cafes. On my travels, I cannot help but notice the old and the young gathering in these places to indulge in coffee and tete a tete. You only have to walk down to Scarlet Corner at Footscray market in the morning to see a little slice of what coffee shops in Vietnam are like – full of chatter and bursting with life.
One of my favourite things in the world is to wake up at the crack of dawn to watch the city wake up. To see the purveyors of breakfast and the vendors of caffeine getting ready in the morning light. Perhaps enjoying a cuppa of their own, in the lull before the storm of the day.
They slowly trickle in, the punters. The early-risers, the tradies, the office-goers, the school-goers. Newspapers are read, passing through different hands like a baton in a silent race. Conversations flow and ebb. The weather, sports, the kids, the elections. Some are serious. Some animated. While others are simple, silly, light-hearted and meandering. The hum of a suburban café coming to life is, to me, as intoxicating as it is life-affirming.
Third places
The local coffee shop is not a destination in itself where one grows roots – not like home or work, or school. It sits outside these places, often a pit-stop on the way from one to another. I remember working at a café in WeFo (West Footscray) during the Covid-19 pandemic, and how our space became a refuge for many customers escaping the confines of home, and the frustrations of trying to juggle work and home-schooling. It was a place to vent, to commiserate, to cry, to laugh and to heal.
In sociology these spaces are referred to as third places, whereas home and work/school are first and second. A term coined in the 1990s by American sociologist Ray Oldenburg, third places are defined as free or inexpensive casual environments where people can interact with other members from the community. Other examples of third places are public parks, libraries, local pubs, gyms and community centres.
You might have a planned meet-up here with friends or colleagues, run into an acquaintance by chance, or struck up a conversation with someone that you have never met before. These places are not only vital for the affirmation of our own identities, but they are also essential for building empathy for identities that diverge from our own.
These days, I run a café with my husband, and I see these things in action as our regulars come and go through the course of the day. I see mums supporting each other in mums’ groups, helping women grapple with their new identities as mothers. I see my young staff learning empathy and kindness as they interact with all sorts that come through our doors. I watch as strangers become friends and start to meet for morning chats. I have also seen otherwise cordial customers lock horns with others, engaging in heated (but respectful) debate about local politics or wider philosophies.
Third places remind us that we belong to a society that is bigger and broader than the small circles that we keep. Both in the physical world, and online.
Digital third places
I’ve recently been enjoying If You’re Listening, an ABC podcast hosted by Matt Bevan. One of the more recent episodes explored the loss of physical town squares, or third places, and the rise of online social platforms like Facebook and X (formerly Twitter). As an increasing amount of social interactions move online these digital third places are fast replacing their physical precursors.
There are many boons to digital third spaces. They are more accessible, especially for people with disability, or those who live with mental illness or social anxiety. It is also easier for members of minority groups, and people on the fringes of cities and society to find support and to feel less alone.
The downside, however, is an increasing number of silos being created online, where people only interact with like-minded people with similar ideas. This is exacerbated by social media algorithms that feed confirmation bias, contributing to the increasing polarisation of people’s political views and leanings. It has also made good-faith conversations a lot rarer in a time when they are needed most.
One of the biggest differences between physical and digital third spaces, I feel, is that in the digital space we often read opinions in a vacuum, devoid of much context of a person’s background, or lived experience.
In physical spaces, we are forced to see the humanity of a person before we listen to what they have to say. When we see others as human first, regardless of how different they may be, we have to accept that we live and work in a shared space and community. We are then more likely to treat them and their views with more care, encouraging more open and productive conversation.
While digital third spaces are an amazing and vital addition to the human experience, it is so important that they do not completely overshadow the physical.
Cafes, serendipity and weathering the storms
Perhaps I am too much of a romantic or an old millennial stick-in-the-mud, but I believe in preserving the magic of serendipity – the chance encounter at your local, or the unplanned chat with a stranger that broadens your horizons. There is magic in these interactions. I truly believe so.
Maybe I say all this because I do also have a horse in the race, and the truth is that the café industry is not doing great at the minute. Just last week we lost another beloved local, Common Galaxia in Seddon. They shut with little to no notice. Even staff were caught unawares.
The economy has never fully recovered from the Covid-19 pandemic, and discretionary spending is still (understandably) low. The avian flu crisis has free-range egg prices currently almost double what they were this time last year. Raw coffee prices have tripled due to worldwide shortages, and the weak Australian dollar has made it hard for local coffee roasters to bargain internationally. Fruit and vegetable wholesalers are also struggling, having to compete with the buying power of the big supermarkets which now also offer quick delivery for businesses. These costs have all trickled down at the same time, dramatically affecting the (already razor-thin) bottom lines of most cafes.
To all the cafes I’ve loved before, and those that I have yet to fall in love with: I hope you see the value in the spaces you create and in the communities you nurture. I hope you survive whatever this (gestures at all the things) is, and that you live to see many more quiet sunrises as you greet the waking world.
