Defending the notion that libraries hold the potential to rescue our world.

The author of "Palaces for the People" articulates a compelling argument.

Half a decade ago, in the wake of Hurricane Sandy's impact, I led a tour for a cohort of architects and engineers within a heavily affected Brooklyn neighborhood. Our presence in the area was tied to the Rebuild By Design initiative, a federal contest aimed at inspiring inventive concepts to reconstruct urban areas and societies in the face of contemporary challenges like climate change. In my capacity as the research director, I was responsible for identifying distinct requirements, susceptibilities, and potential avenues for novel undertakings across the locality.

On that day’s tour, we focused on the challenge of building social cohesion, so neighbors are better able to solve problems together and support one another during difficult times. Near the end of our walk, one of the design teams approached me with an idea: every community needs a reliable gathering place. It should be open daily and fully accessible to everyone. It should be staffed by trained professionals who welcome people of all ages, ethnic groups, social classes, and abilities. It should be capacious, with flexible space that can be adapted to suit local needs and used during emergencies.

The architects and engineers were invigorated by this revelation. They shared with me their endeavor to develop a novel architectural concept—a "resilience center," they dubbed it—designed to fulfill these multifaceted roles. I commended their innovation, yet I urged them to delve deeper into their observation. I pointed out that a similar concept already exists in most American communities, often overlooked—the branch libraries that are a part of our daily surroundings.

This encounter served as the initial spark that ignited the creation of "Palaces for the People," my latest book exploring the significance of social infrastructure in rebuilding a sense of community in an era marked by escalating polarization and inequality. The book draws upon extensive research conducted over years in various cities and suburbs worldwide, including a comprehensive ethnographic study carried out within neighborhood libraries.

Over 90 percent of Americans consider their local library to be of "very" or "somewhat" high importance to their community.

Libraries hold a place of honor among our nation's cherished assets, yet they are simultaneously some of the most disregarded and misconstrued. Recently, Forbes published an article contending that libraries had lost their relevance and did not merit public backing. Penned by an economist, the piece suggested replacing libraries with Amazon retail outlets, asserting that a free-market option would be preferable for most Americans. The response from the public, particularly librarians, as well as public figures and ordinary citizens, was so overwhelmingly negative that Forbes removed the article from its website.

Anyone who has taken a close look at the daily dynamics of American cities, suburbs, and small towns would not have been taken aback by this surge of support for libraries. Over 90 percent of Americans perceive their local library as "very" or "somewhat" significant to their community. According to the Pew Research Center, over the past decade, "every major institution (government, churches, banks, corporations) has seen a decline in public esteem except libraries, the military, and first responders." Despite this overwhelming backing, local governments across the United States have been reducing funding for libraries whenever budget constraints arise. In some instances, towns have even been forced to close libraries.

Through my research, I discovered that libraries encompass much more than simply offering books, movies, internet access, and essential information. They also play a vital role in maintaining the vibrancy of neighborhoods and fostering stronger social bonds. "Palaces for the People," a term I borrow from Andrew Carnegie, a prominent supporter and advocate for libraries worldwide, unveils an array of unexpected programs that modern libraries host: virtual bowling leagues for seniors who might otherwise be isolated at home, early literacy initiatives for bilingual children and underprivileged families, inclusive karaoke sessions uniting children with disabilities and seniors seeking meaningful engagement, and morning tea gatherings for unemployed men striving for dignity and respect.

While libraries are a central component of "Palaces for the People," the book does not solely focus on them; it also explores schools, parks, playgrounds, sports fields, churches, community groups, and barber shops as forms of social infrastructure. Nevertheless, libraries and the dedicated individuals within them stand at the core of the narrative, mirroring their central role in the fabric of our communities.