The Power of Supercitizens

Lurking among us are anonymous heroes who quietly amplify social cohesion. Here's what we can learn from them.

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Last Saturday, at 9am, I encountered a woman in my local park sporting an inverted black paper bag on her head, her hair sprouting out from under this unexpected genre of whimsical hat. She was amiably accosting members of the public who had gathered at the park, armed with a contagious smile, a pen, and a clipboard. As I got closer, I saw that her makeshift hat had two words scrawled on it: “Nag Bag.”

I had spotted one in the wild: here was a supercitizen.

I: Supercitizens: The Secret Sauce of Social Cohesion

It is clear enough from the name that when one wears a nag bag, one must inevitably nag people to do something. And she was nagging for a good cause: asking runners at the local parkrun to sign-up as volunteers for future events.

But even with the Nag Bag accessory, I had immediately recognized her. I had often spotted the same woman—not wearing a bag on her head—walking along the road, with a litter picker-upper claw in her hand, collecting other people’s carelessly discarded trash as part of her altruistic routine.

Lurking among us, there are a group of hidden heroes, people who routinely devote significant amounts of their time, energy, and talent to making our communities better. These are the devoted, do-gooding, elite one percent. Most, but not all, are volunteers.¹ All are selfless altruists. They, the supercitizens, provide some of the stickiness in the social glue that holds us together.²

What if I told you that there’s this little trick you can do that makes your community stronger, helps other people, and makes you happier and live longer? Well, it exists, there’s ample evidence it works, and best of all, it’s free.

Recently published research showcases a convincing causal link between these supercitizens—devoted, regular volunteers—and social cohesion. While such an umbrella term means a million different things, these researchers focused on two UK-based surveys that analyzed three facets of social cohesion, measured through eight questions (respondents answered on a five point scale, ranging from strongly disagree to strongly agree). They were:

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Neighboring

• ‘If I needed advice about something I could go to someone in my neighborhood’;

• ‘I borrow things and exchange favors with my neighbors’; and

• ‘I regularly stop and talk with people in my neighborhood’

Psychological sense of community

• ‘I feel like I belong to this neighborhood’;

• ‘The friendships and associations I have with other people in my neighborhood mean a lot to me’;

• ‘I would be willing to work together with others on something to improve my neighborhood’; and

• ‘I think of myself as similar to the people that live in this neighborhood’)

Attraction to the neighborhood

• ‘I plan to remain a resident of this neighborhood for a number of years’

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While these questions only tap into some specific components of social cohesion, high levels of these ingredients are likely to produce a reliable recipe for a healthy local community. (Social cohesion differs from social capital, popularized by Robert Putnam and his book, Bowling Alone. Social capital tends to focus on links between individuals and groups—are you a joiner or more of a loner?—whereas cohesion refers to a more diffuse sense of community, belonging, and neighborliness).

What the researchers found was reassuring: there is a bi-directional relationship between social cohesion and high levels of volunteering. In plain English, this means that when people volunteer more, communities get stronger—but that strong communities entice people to volunteer more, too.

II: Volunteering makes you live a longer, happier life

Volunteering doesn’t just have positive effects on the community. There’s strong evidence that being a volunteer has major, transformative effects on individuals who engage in local altruism by donating their time and talents.³

A 2020 Harvard longitudinal study involving 13,000 participants who were aged 50 or older tracked health outcomes based on level of volunteering engagement, ranging from no volunteering to those who volunteered more than 100 hours per year. Their findings were astounding: even after controlling for other factors, compared to those who did no volunteering, the Supercitizens had a 44 percent lower mortality risk, a 17 percent lower risk of “physical functioning limitations,” and much higher self-rated health.

There were mental health benefits, too. Those volunteering more than 100 hours per year had “higher positive affect, optimism, and purpose in life, as well as lower depressive symptoms and hopelessness.” Another meta-study (a study that aggregates findings from a wide array of previous research) found that volunteering was, across the board, associated with improved “mental, physical, and social health and well-being, particularly reduced mortality, and increased functioning, quality of life, pride, empowerment, motivation, social support, and sense of community.”

I volunteer four hours a week at a local historic site—yes, I am a nerd—where I give guided tours (after completing six months of coursework training and two formal exams)!⁴ I am the youngest by a considerable margin, but the mental acuity and general health of my fellow guides is astonishing. I’m not saying they could all run a marathon, but I am saying that there are guides who remember the start of World War II and still could, without hesitation, rattle off the full running order of the Anglo-Saxon kings before playfully skewering me with an acerbic off-the-cuff remark.

Anecdotal, sure, but I’m convinced: volunteering has sharpened their wit, kept them mentally and physically fit, and prolonged their joyful lifespan. It’s a social medicine, no prescription required.

To make a society flourish, then, supercitizens are a win-win. However, to unlock their full potential—to create the organizational infrastructure for volunteer-led social change—we need a special category of do-gooding trailblazers.

III: Spark plugs, parkrun, and emergence

When an engine starts, the ignition comes from the spark plug. But once the spark plug has done its job, the other components take over the heavy lifting of moving the car. Without the spark plug, the car will never move, but the spark plug can’t do the actual moving alone.

There is a special class of supercitizens—the human spark plugs—who organize, galvanize, and corral people into new social arrangements to ignite social change. To understand how they work, it’s time to return to the original locus of the Nag Bag, the communitarian glory that is parkrun.⁵

As it happens, one of the most consequential developments in the modern health of the British population was triggered by the erratic movements of one dog.

In late 2004, a divorced, unemployed, down-on-his-luck runner named Paul Sinton-Hewitt was out for a marathon training session when his dog bolted in front of him. To avoid running over the dog, Sinton-Hewitt tumbled into a somersault, injuring his left leg. His marathon dreams dashed, his spirits lower than ever, he had a rather good brainwave for how to escape his funk.

Running had given him so much. It was time, Paul decided, to give something back.

He organized a rudimentary 5k time trial at his local park, Bushy Park in Teddington, southwest of London. It would be completely free, social, open to everyone. At the finish line, every runner would get a simple metal token corresponding to their finish order, and a timer would write down the times when each runner crossed the line. The runners would then give their e-mail addresses to Paul, who would send the race times to them once he’d matched the runners with the times.

There were thirteen runners and five volunteers at that initial event in October 2004. Over time, the Bushy Park Time Trial became parkrun. And Paul Sinton-Hewitt turned out to be one hell of a spark plug.

Last Saturday, there were 1,998 parkruns globally, with 329,000 finishers and a whopping 41,000 volunteers—one volunteer for every eight runners. More than half of all parkruns and finishers are in the UK. And Bushy Park, where it all began, remains the largest British event, growing from 13 in the original incarnation to 1,359 finishers last week. UK parkruns are always held on Saturday at 9am. It’s always free. It’s delightfully social. And it’s ruthlessly inclusive.

A parkrun at Bushy Park, the location of the first event.

I run most Saturdays at my local parkrun and, without fail, it restores my faith in humanity. There are usually between 300 and 500 runners, with hordes of volunteers to direct them around the course. Before the start, one of the organizers announces all the places that runners have come from outside the local community, and everyone claps—loudest for the furthest distance—welcoming them. Then, those who have reached a parkrun milestone—completing 50 or 100 or 250 parkruns, for example—get recognized and cheered by the gathered crowd.

There are all ranges of ability, from world-class athletes to those who struggle to complete a 5k walk. There are all ages, from infants being pushed in prams to one parkrunner who is literally a hundred years-old. And there are plenty of dogs.⁶

Every parkrun has a volunteer who acts as a “tail walker.” This person has one job: to finish last. That way, nobody participating will ever come in last place—and whoever is among the slowest will have someone to talk to as they make their way around the course. How lovely is that?

Then, there are the local flourishes: at my local parkrun, a woman sets up shop around the 2 kilometer marker with pom-poms—every Saturday morning—to cheer on every runner as they go past.⁷

When you finish, a volunteer hands you a barcode token with your finishing order, which you then present to another volunteer along with your personal barcode, which you can load onto your smartphone or running watch. They scan them, matching you with your finish order. It’s seamless. Many parkruns have a social element that follows, with coffee and chatting. A few hours later, you get an e-mail with all sorts of data about your finish time. Free, volunteer-led, all-around wonderful.

Last week alone, 16,000 people became first-time parkrunners. Nine million people have completed at least one parkrun. And it just keeps growing. I am a full-blown parkrun evangelist.

Studies have shown that parkrun is particularly effective at incorporating underrepresented communities in organized sports, and that the events are an effective antidote to poor mental health and feelings of isolation, along with the more obvious benefits to physical wellbeing.

The Nag Bag supercitizen—who asked to remain anonymous—told me that her GP suggested trying out a parkrun to help lower her blood pressure.⁸ She started running in 2016, just before turning 70, and began volunteering at parkrun shortly thereafter. Now, almost exactly eight years after finishing that first event, she has completed a whopping 235 parkruns. (During the week, when she goes running and spots litter, she returns later with her litter claw to remove it).

Paul Sinton-Hewitt is a spark plug extraordinaire. Aside from scientists who invent miracle drugs, few humans alive have done more to help Britain’s National Health Service. His efforts have made literally millions of people healthier and happier. It is an absurd injustice that he is not Sir Paul Sinton-Hewitt.

The genius of his approach was that it was modular and easily scalable. Anyone can start a parkrun, anywhere, anytime. (It is a shame that there are so few in the United States; if you’re reading this and are a runner: start one!). But the point is that parkrun offers a broader template for change-making: a spark plug who ignites the engine and the supercitizens and volunteers who make it hum.

This lesson draws on the principle of emergence from complex systems science. As I explain in Fluke:

Emergence arises when individuals or components organize themselves in a way that produces something different from the sum of their parts, the way that locust swarms have fundamentally different characteristics from solo insects. (The human brain is sometimes said to be emergent, because no individual neuron can produce consciousness or complex thought, but together, the neurons are capable of astonishing feats.)

The dynamics of parkrun operate somewhat like emergence in a social system: with a bit of social infrastructure and some innovative determination, the combination of supercitizens, occasional volunteers, runners, public parks, a welcoming environment, and the occasional nagging, has unlocked something far more potent than the sum of those individual parts.

IV: On Horseshoes and Handcuffs: Supercitizens, Demographics, and Social Inequity

My first volunteer experience was as a fifteen year-old helping out at the Minneapolis Crisis Nursery. The organization provides full residential care to children, from newborns to six year-olds, for up to three days and nights. The idea is to prevent child abuse and neglect during family crises by getting the kids somewhere safe, whether the parents are temporarily homeless, are facing a mental health breakdown, or are experiencing—or even perpetrating—domestic abuse.

One Sunday morning, I was volunteering with my Dad, reading a book to the little kids called Whose Shoe? We would show a picture of a shoe to the kids, gathered on the floor in a semi-circle, and they would blurt out who would wear that shoe. A dainty pink pointed soft shoe: “Ballerina!” they called out in unison. An athletic cleat: “Baseball player!” they screamed.

Then, a horseshoe. A puzzled silence. Finally, a four year-old cried out:

“Handcuffs!”

In those moments—and in the moments when some children recoiled at images of police officers in picture books—it became obvious to me that volunteering is a hallmark of privilege: it is far easier to engage in it when one is in a safe, stable environment, physically and mentally healthy, and has ample amounts of leisure time to direct toward helping others. And it is also important not to get too carried away: supercitizens and spark plugs, no matter how dedicated, should not be used as an excuse for governments to reduce public services, safe in the knowledge that devoted volunteers will compensate for their failings.

Instead, we should consider community-building public services like a ladder that can be extended even further through the work of devoted citizens. But the ladder can be extended much further—and our world made better with relatively limited coordinated individual efforts. However, volunteer rates in the United States have steadily declined—worsened by the pandemic—and are now around the lowest levels in three decades. The opposite should be happening, partly because older people—those with the highest rates of volunteering—are living longer, healthier lives.

Some organizations, such as Third Act—founded by human spark plug

Bill McKibben

—aim to harness the power of “experienced Americans” over sixty, who have vast, often untapped skills that could be used to enact social change. While it’s obviously wonderful to ladle soup in a kitchen, it’s also wise to engage retired lawyers, lobbyists, activists, and other seasoned professionals to use their life experience to help fix broken systems rather than just helping victims of them. These are the kinds of innovative models that, like parkrun, are greater than the sum of their individual parts.

V: The Enchanting Uniqueness of Human Altruism

Why do we volunteer? Humans—like meerkats, eight percent of birds, arctic foxes, and New World monkeys—engage in cooperative breeding, meaning that offspring are cared for by group members beyond their parents.⁹ In a variety of experiments, researchers have shown a strong link between cooperative breeding and helping other unrelated individuals within the species.

It has been hypothesized that cooperative breeding evolves in environments where survival is difficult, creating shared benefits from working together. And some scientists argue that human cooperative breeding was a crucial step in the evolution of our species, “leading to a powerful combination of smarts and sociality that fueled even bigger brains, the evolution of language, and unprecedented levels of cooperation.”

But what’s extraordinary is that human altruism seems to be unique in the animal kingdom. Other species showcase behaviors where they help each other, but only to a point. For example, in experiments, some non-human primates will reliably help others get food rewards even if it doesn’t benefit themselves. But when a task involved giving food rewards to another individual in a way that came at a cost to the monkey, those primates became uniformly selfish. Humans, are, in this way, one-of-a-kind: “In no other species has widespread (biological) altruism directed at non-kin, with no chance of reciprocation, been observed.”

This, then, is the final enchanting power of supercitizens. By helping others—even if it means giving up scarce time, or money, or energy—we are not just strengthening our communities and improving the lives of others. We are also asserting a fundamental, beautiful part of what makes us human.

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1. Some supercitizens are in paid roles, but are devoted to creating the superstructure for significant and systemic social change. And obviously, our society couldn’t function without the paid workers who perform often unsung public service: doctors, nurses, teachers, firefighters etc. My focus on the volunteer side of the equation in this essay doesn’t negate my towering respect for those who make public service a career.

2. I like coining terms when suitable terms don’t already exist, as you may have noticed, and “supercitizens” is my term—it’s not one from academic studies.

3. There are, of course, risks of confounding in these studies (for example, it could be that healthier individuals are more likely to volunteer in the first place, rather than that volunteers become healthier). Rest assured: I’ve examined the scholarly literature and have looked for studies that carefully take this into account. Even after adjusting for all the potential confounders, every study I found showed a significant health benefit.

4. I was once recognized while I was giving a tour by a very polite teenager who had seen a clip of me on Cunk on Earth in her TikTok feed and was very confused as to why I had suddenly appeared in real life to tell her riveting facts about medieval England. “Excuse me, but have you by chance ever heard of Philomena Cunk?” she sheepishly asked. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about, here’s a supercut of me on the show).

5. This isn’t a typo; parkrun is always written all lower case.

6. Zorro is an enthusiastic parkrunner, though I often lament his uncanny knack for going to the bathroom, like clockwork, around 2km into the run.

7. This is the dose of reality antidote to counteract, say, recent headlines about a tiny subset of the British population engaged in racist anti-immigrant rioting; there are a hell of a lot more people like the pom-pom volunteer than those racist, violent thugs. As I’ve explained previously, the world is not as bad as you think.

8. She also asked (surprise, surprise) not to be called a supercitizen, since she knows many other people who do far more than she does (this only confirmed my view that she was absolutely a supercitizen). She also playfully said that she’d respond to my questions only if I signed up to be a parkrun volunteer. I dutifully agreed—another one added to her list, no nag bag required.

9. Interestingly, our closest ape ancestors—Great Apes and chimps—don’t engage in cooperative breeding, so we separately evolved that behavior within our lineage.