Before addressing the main topic of this month’s blog, I feel that I must clarify the central theme. It is increasingly clear that Western societies, Malta included, have shifted away from face‑to‑face social interaction as the primary mode of communication, relying more heavily on digital alternatives. This statement requires qualification, as the adoption of digital alternatives has influenced the way we conduct the remaining forms of human interaction. This shift has affected various aspects of daily life and has weakened our collective capacity to engage in meaningful “in-person” debate or to form well‑informed personal opinions.
I speculate here that board
gaming could provide a valuable opportunity to reclaim the benefits of
face-to-face engagement that has diminished over time. While other methods
certainly exist, I believe that using play can be an effective way to
facilitate social interaction. I believe that play is the most fundamental form
of exploration and socialisation. It is
how we learn as children and remains a practical way for adults to connect with
those around them. In this look at the subject of socialisation and play, I
start by offering the idea of the “Agora” and how structured play could help in
re-establishing, at least in spirit, those ancient meeting places of
intellectual exchange.
To understand the origins of
public discourse and citizenship, we could look back at ancient Greece. In an
era before digital platforms, the Agora served as the primary destination for
commerce, philosophy, and political debate. It was the essential heart of Greek
society, a physical space where citizens exchanged both goods and ideas.
Over the millennia, the role of
the Agora transitioned to other venues, such as town squares, public parks, and
coffee houses. In Malta, this tradition was mirrored in locations like main
village and town squares or popular roads like Republic Street (formerly
Kingsway) in Valletta or St. Joseph High Street (formerly Strada Reale) in
Hamrun. For decades, both streets running down the very centre of the capital
city of Valletta and Hamrun respectively, functioned as both a commercial hub
and a vibrant stage for social gatherings and political demonstrations.
The introduction of the Internet
in the early 1990s fundamentally altered these social dynamics. To understand
this shift, we must examine how digital connectivity replaced these physical
"Agoras” with digital doppelgangers.
One significant change, at least
locally, was in the consumption of news. Previously, the daily ritual of
purchasing a newspaper at a local stationer established a "human
chain" of interaction. These physical locations acted as catalysts for spontaneous
debate among citizens from all walks of life. With the rise of online media,
the demand for printed news diminished, and the communal experience of the
physical newsstand has largely become redundant and practically non-existent.
This is by no means an exclusively local phenomenon but it is still a
significant contributing factor in my opinion.
The transition to digital media
has not only cost us the tactile experience of handling a newspaper, it has
also deprived us of the opportunity to engage with others sharing the same
information. Meaningful discourse has been relegated to online comment sections,
which are frequently compromised by "trolls", individuals who
intentionally start arguments or upset people by posting provocative, unnecessary,
or off-topic messages, and "spin doctors," thereby eroding the
potential for constructive debate.
I believe that a similar decline
also occurred when it comes to the retail and convenience sector. This sector
has in fact seen a shift toward a retail concentration or franchise‑driven
model when it comes to retailing. Large franchises and international chains
have optimised logistics to the point that smaller, town or region centric
businesses are often priced out of the market. Consequently, I argue, the act
of shopping has been infused with a growing element of anonymity.
It’s interesting that for a time
the very idea of a “mall” did create an Agora of sorts where, especially, young
members of society often gathered over some refreshments or even merely over a
shopping expedition of sorts. For a while in the 90’s these malls became a
means to be seen and to socialise in the process. Whether it was an equally
valid locus for meaningful discussions is another thing altogether.
Locally, if you were to go back some 30 or 40 years you could still see several thriving small convenience stores, or mini markets that catered exclusively for the village or town in which they happened to be located. These shops thrived not only on the convenience of proximity to the clients they served but also from an active physical social network established by nurturing meaningful relationships with the regular patrons. In these spaces discussions were common, exchanges of opinion likewise. At times you could get meaningful information by just hanging around those quaint shops. It is important to highlight this aspect as these venues contributed to the physical exchanges of opinions and gossip that have since migrated online.
What I think facilitated the
dialogue was the size of the establishment and the fact that, often, the shop
owners were themselves “locals” living within the communities they served. This
helped establish a strong sense of belonging with patrons looking at these
smaller shops as being something “theirs”, rather than merely a means to
address the purchasing of day-to-day necessities.
Large franchise superstores and
shopping centres originally replaced a significant number of small, local
shops. The attraction of these outlets was mainly centred around the
aggregation of a larger selection of products sold at lower price-points by
leveraging economies of scales and optimised logistics. The next step proved
even more impactful, when these same businesses moved partially or wholly online,
allowing people to manage their household shopping without leaving their home.
In my view, this shift contributed even further towards an increased anonymity
of modern life by removing the need for even the simplest form of interactions.
The Internet brought convenience
at formerly unimaginable scales. This was a ground shaking communication
revolution that made many lofty promises, and many enterprising individuals
were keen to cash in from what they perceived as the next veritable goldmine.
What followed was a concerted effort to keep eyes on screens, sell ads which in
turn meant selling products and making profit. The cycle once started was unstoppable,
but it did something to the underlying promises, it tainted communication
turning it into something other than just a beneficial tool. It now had an
agenda, one far removed from the principle of free flowing, useful
communication.
In my view, the
"communication revolution" promised by the Internet resulted in,
apart from a mind-numbing information overload, the decimation of physical
spaces where genuine human connection once flourished. While technology has
arguably made us more efficient, it has contributed to dissolving that
"social glue" that formerly bound communities together. In its stead,
the online platforms used have created distorted collectives fuelled by limited
blinkered perspectives to any given topic. Debate and consensus have given way
to affirmations and compliance.
We have, by most measures, lost the traditional Agora. However, despite this decline, there is a burgeoning desire to create new physical spaces where its spirit may yet survive. Crucially, these cannot be virtual environments where individuals hide behind anonymity. They must be physical or accountable spaces where one can interact safely and take responsibility for their views. Environments where diverse opinions are expressed, respected, and debated in a civilised, ethical manner.
While I do not suggest that board
gaming events can entirely replicate the benefits of an ancient Agora, they
certainly offer a transformative space where individuals from diverse
backgrounds can converge. At a fundamental level, such events allow enthusiasts
to gather around a shared interest, the game itself. Through regular
participation, these venues may be used constructively for the personal
development of the players and the betterment of their wider communities.
To truly benefit from these
experiences, one must carefully select titles that align with specific social
principles. For instance, if the objective is to foster social cohesion, it is
advisable to choose games that encourage teamwork and cooperation. This does
not necessitate the removal of competition, rather, the competitive spirit
should be channelled to benefit all participants.
Furthermore, as every gaming
group possesses a unique dynamic, players may compete in a spirit of genuine
sportsmanship. This allows for a competitive environment where winning or
losing does not undermine the underlying friendships. Regardless of the genre,
the games must be engaged with the same communal intent that originally defined
the Agora.
It is encouraging to observe the
recent proliferation of local board gaming events; however, many remain
burdened by an often too obvious sense of commercialisation. In my view, this
market-driven approach taints the foundation of the environment. For a modern
Agora to flourish, it must not appear to exist solely for financial gain. While
profits may occur, they should be incidental rather than a prerequisite for the
venue's existence. Consequently, such spaces should avoid aggressive
monetisation, focusing instead on value-added services that feel like a natural
extension of the experience.
For instance, if a space is
leased for gaming, acceptable costs might include a nominal annual membership
to cover administration, or small session fees to offset utilities. A
refundable deposit for the use of on-site games would also be a reasonable measure
to safeguard against damages particularly in those instances where a formal
membership would not work. Furthermore, should the venue’s popularity render
space a scarce resource, a modest booking fee could ensure patrons are
guaranteed a table, provided it is both sized and viewed as a service rather
than a financial burden.
Once a space is consistently
occupied and its popularity grows, it can be said to be on the path toward
becoming a true Agora. However, this is merely the beginning. The environment
must actively nurture the interests of its participants; organisers should
"feel the pulse" of the community to offer bespoke events that align
with the preferences of regular attendees.
While it is not the purpose of this piece to outline a business plan of sorts, it is compelling to note how this mirrors the Stoic manifesto of cosmopolitanism. The Stoics argued that our fundamental identity resides not in nationality or social strata, but in our shared capacity for rational thought. By embracing this, we move beyond narrow tribalism toward a broader, more compassionate perspective, one of global kinship where the welfare of others is interwoven with our own. This guiding principle should be the cornerstone of any board-game-centric Agora, a space where we are challenged to become the best versions of ourselves.
Ultimately, the activities within
such a space will be shaped by the interests of the participants. It may remain
a purely ludic platform, or it may evolve into a community dedicated to
lifelong learning and self-betterment. Ideally, it would become a blend of
both.
The ancient Agora began out of
simple necessity. People needed a place to talk, to understand one another,
make sense of the world around them, and to trade for the things they needed to
survive. Within those confines, everyone who took part became a community that
looked after itself, all working together to grow. It was not a perfect system,
but it was a genuine step in the right direction.
I do not think we have forgotten
how to build communities like this. Instead, we have let ourselves become
distracted by a thousand different things fighting for our attention. Perhaps
it is time to reclaim our time and spend it on better things.
The sheer volume of information
available online can frequently cause confusion rather than provide clarity.
Revisiting core principles and the ethos of traditional public discourse,
reminiscent of the ancient Agora, may aid in handling this overload more
effectively. Board games could be useful in reintroducing positive habits that
have been neglected. Additionally, considering how we read and use information
in ways that suit individual needs may help foster a more balanced way of life.
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