A few weekends back, we were visiting the ex-housemates at Jorvik 2, and wound up at a North Campus Co-ops bonfire, talking to some of our further-ex-housemates. Since I'd last visited or paid much attention to what was happening up there, a few members who had caused long-term friction within the house had left (not really voluntarily), Ren had filled up (though O'Keeffe was still rebuilding from the trauma), Falstaff appeared to be experiencing a new Golden Age, there had been notable physical improvements made to other suites, and the bonfire was the best attended I've seen in years. I spent the rest of the weekend being incredibly nostalgic.

A few days later, I caught a story on Salon.com about the Mars Hill church in Seattle, a metal evangelical Christian church. Apparently, they've had much success at drawing in Seattle's tattooed, cafe-haunting, still-haven't-gotten-over-Cobain demographic, and teaching them to keep their women barefoot and pregnant - they've noticed that Seattle has fewer children than any other major city except San Francisco, and are taking direct action to affect that town's demographics. (I.e. "go forth and multiply.")

Mark Maynard keeps tabs on the weirdest examples of the religious right, and the demographic disparities of politics, so I pointed him to the article. His conclusion is that the "progressives" are headed for extinction, as they (we?) just can't compete. They'll be out-bred and out-voted in the end. What can we offer that's as alluring as a community of shared values now, and heaven later? Obviously, heaven's not an option for non-theists, so we'll have to focus on the "community of shared values" part.

Which brings me back to the co-ops. I lived there for five years, between undergrad and grad school. I met Cara through the co-ops - our wedding was officiated by a co-oper, and the only non-family we invited were co-opers. (Though some we had known through other channels, yes.) Actually, probably the majority of the weddings I've been to have been co-op couples, even including my family. I met the majority of my current close friends there (with high school, Hi-CE, and the Ypsi/Arbor blogosphere more or less making up the balance), and that's the case for many of them, too. My co-op experience was largely responsible for my going into urban planning - for my consciousness as a community member. Not impressed yet? Consider that the ICC is a 60-year-old non-profit corporation with an annual budget of $1.7 million, and manages this with a Board of Directors whose median member probably isn't old enough to buy booze.

Hence the nostalgia attack.

Now, of course, I and every one of my co-oper friends and family will be happy to point out that the co-ops had their problems. Big ones. I'll spare the details. Suffice to say that I moved out, in large part because I was talked into self-preservation - leaving before I let myself be destroyed by devoting too much of myself to tackling further monumental problems. But when I left, it was to move into a house with, over the course of a year, a dozen people whom I had met through the co-ops.

Now, I consider it relevant to note that the reasons I moved into the co-ops, when I was 19, were that it was cheaper than dorm life, close to my classes, and easier than seeking out housing on my own. I made a choice of convenience, and co-op life took that and ran with it, through the rest of my life. So I do not share Mark's despair. I know what's possible. I know that you can create a stable, self-perpetuating system that will take randomly selected college students as its inputs, and produce people who will marry each other like mad, leave school to serve as President of the organization (or merely Maintenance Manager for their House), and credit the system with changing the direction of their lives.

I know that you can create a cult that religion plays no part in.

At this point, I bet you're asking how. (Unless you're a member of my neighborhood association. In that case, you're probably backing away slowly, and wondering why you just elected me Co-Chair.) Well, that's a good question. I don't know. What I'll state for now is that,

1. You need some hook, a way to get people in. I'd rather not dangle heaven in front of people, but, from the article up top, Mars Hill seems to use "belonging" as the hook, not religion. Religion is what the communal kool-aid is spiked with.

2. You need to offer continuing value. This is where the heaven comes in useful - I don't know if "belonging" alone is enough for perpetuity. But I think that you can offer tangible value out of community. Ask to borrow my copy of Stoecker's Defending Community, or ask me to explain "collectivization of social reproduction".
3. You need to provide for regulation and management, to keep problems in check. I would prefer a non-heirarchical solution to this - something that relies on consensus and conflict resolution, rather than upon the authority of clergy.

I think the third of these is where the student co-ops fall down - what pushes people like me out eventually. This is probably an acceptable failing in that context, as the system doesn't need to serve most people for more than a few years; problems and personal conflicts don't become acute fast enough to catch up with the average co-oper. A congregation intended to serve people throughout life would need to address problems more effectively.

Obviously, what I'm offering here is fairly vague, and doesn't exactly constitute A Plan. With the nature of what I'm thinking about, however, A Plan is something that should be worked out collectively, rather than by one person.