What We Can Teach the Cities

There’s a long-standing assumption that progress flows in one direction, outward from the cities and into the quieter, slower rhythms of places like the Midlands. Cities are seen as the engines of innovation, opportunity, and growth, while rural communities are often cast as places that follow, adapt, and catch up. I've often had to answer the question from my urban friends of “Don't you get a bit bored living in Notties?”, and my answer surprises them: of course not. We have a thriving social and community life. We are surrounded by entrepreneurs, artisans, and educators; have a vibrant tourism and agribusiness sector; numerous outdoor activities; and many opportunities to get involved in various facets of the community.

Perhaps it’s time to challenge the “small town” narrative. If we look a little closer at places like Nottingham Road, Howick, Hilton and the greater Midlands, they are not lagging; they are quietly leading in ways that matter most. In the Midlands, community is not a concept; it’s a daily reality. It’s in the way people show up for one another without being asked, in school events that feel more like family gatherings, in local fundraisers that rally support within hours, and in the unspoken understanding that when something needs doing, someone will step forward. In cities, connection often has to be scheduled. Here, it simply exists. A recent and powerful example was The Beardo's Charity, whose annual fundraising initiatives, including their Shave Off and Potjie Competition, brought the community together in remarkable fashion. What began as a spirited, fun-driven set of events became something far more significant, raising over R1 million in support of Midlands Hospice and the Bobbi Bear Foundation. It was a stark and inspiring reminder that even a small community, when united, can make an extraordinary impact.

While cities pride themselves on speed, there is growing evidence that constant acceleration comes at a cost: burnout, disconnection, and a loss of perspective. In contrast, life here allows space to think, to breathe, and to prioritise what truly matters. Productivity is not lost; it is simply more purposeful.

Our relationship with the environment is also not something we visit over the weekend; we live alongside it every day. Children grow up outdoors, seasons are felt rather than observed, and there is a genuine appreciation for the land that sustains us.

Perhaps most importantly, the Midlands reminds us of the value of belonging. In a world where people can feel increasingly anonymous, there is something powerful about being known, by name, by story, by contribution. It creates accountability, yes, but also pride and a deeper sense of purpose. This is not to suggest that cities don’t have their strengths. They do, and they remain vital to the broader fabric of society. But the idea that rural communities must constantly look outward for inspiration is outdated.

Sometimes, the most meaningful lessons are found in the quieter places, and perhaps, just perhaps, the cities would do well to look our way.

WORDS: Tim Johnson