The Space Between
When I first heard about liminality, the state of in-betweeness, it immediately resonated with me. I realised that it was not only familiar to me but that I was attracted to it. I feel that I am constantly between groups, in transition from one place to another, in a state of ‘one foot in and one foot out’. I always have that feeling of not fully belonging, not wholly being in one place, betwixt and between. I seek that state. Always at the threshold of the exit - or is it the entrance? Or both?
You see, I didn’t want to bang on about COVID, the Great Resignation, the “Return to the Office’ and all that babble about the future of work BUT the issue of liminal spaces had come up. Offices are full of them and apparently some magic happens there that makes ideas have babies, or innovation appear, or relationships or something. (Remember that Matt Hancock video? That was a liminal space. Oh god, now I have to wash my brain out!).
But we also have liminal spaces in our lives and they shape us. Liminality (from the Latin word līmen, meaning "a threshold”) was first used in anthropology to describe the quality of ambiguity or disorientation that occurs in the middle stage of a rite of passage, when participants no longer hold their pre-ritual status but have not yet begun the transition to the status they will hold when the rite is complete.
I realised I’d also come across it in William Bridges’ Model of Transition, which I often refer to. It’s the middle stage, the Neutral Zone, between The Ending & Letting Go and The New Beginning. It’s the period of fog and uncertainty (and often anguish and distress) that we go through as we figure out what to do next. Frequently, we try to rush through it or jump over it all together (which never ends well) but we are always in transition in some way in some part of our lives and so we’re always in a liminal space in some way.
So why am I drawn to liminal spaces? And how has it shaped me?
I think it is because I quite like the ambiguity and disorientation - at least, intellectually. It’s a place to play with ideas, to try out personas, to explore roles and alternative futures. In other words, it’s a space of possibility and emergence. It’s a place of synthesis and creativity. It’s a place of innovation.
It means I am always drifting to the edges, looking to explore the gaps between things, the spaces between worlds and groups.
It means I don’t fit into a box.
And I like pubs.
(Just to round this out a little, you might think from the above that I’m really good at transitions. I’m not. Like most people, I find some I take in my stride and others really challenge and confront me. I am also massively contradictory as I like to belong and be accepted, and I have a big hang-up about safety. I’m just a screw-up like everyone else!)
Thanks For The Memories
So here’s the ‘future of work’ bit. As I said, in a physical workplace i.e. an office, there are a lot of liminal spaces, both in time and space.
The coffee machine, the corridor, the lobby, the printer - these are places where we bump into colleagues and have impromptu conversations.
Then there’s the walk to meeting, the chit-chat before the meeting, the gossip after the meeting - more ad hoc conversations and relationship-making.
There’s combinations of time and space, like going out for lunch with colleagues, going to social events together and, of course, down the pub.
And let’s not forget the water cooler, eh? The hub of everything informal, right?
It’s in these liminal spaces that people make connections, build friendships, come up with ideas, find out what’s really going on and catch up on the latest gossip. They allow issues to be raised, questions to be asked, ideas to be floated that would not be possible in the formal spaces.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how innovation happens!
Or so many would have you believe. It’s part of it but it’s far from the whole story on innovation. However, what is clear is that these liminal spaces have been where something of value has been created.
I know that the pub has been a more fruitful place for getting breakthroughs than any meeting room, whether that’s persuading someone around to my point of view or cracking a problem. It’s where friendships have been nurtured and deepened. And it’s definitely been the best place for gossip.
And this raised two problems.
The first is how do you create liminal spaces that enable this stuff to happen when you’re working remotely? It is definitely do-able but each team and organisation will have to figure it out. It may involve ‘liminal events’, getting people together for a week of hanging out and coworking. It may involve new rituals around meetings or new events. It may mean new platforms (I wonder, is Slack a liminal space?)
The second is for those organisations who really would like to get people back into the office and don’t want to create liminal spaces elsewhere. Because, currently, their argument looks like this.
“We want you to come back to the office so you get to spend time that we don’t allocate to you in informal spaces that we don’t acknowledge so that stuff will happen that we don’t understand, recognise or reward because this is essential to the success of our business.”
And their employees weigh that against the cost, time and effort of going into an office where it’s harder to do the focused work they get rewarded for and they find it a less than compelling offer.
The Wanderer
Another word I discovered a few years ago and immediately connected with is ‘flanuering’, which means to wander with intention. It is generally applied to wandering about a city to find things of interest and delight, which is something I love to do. If I’m in London I’ll often go for a wander when I’m between meetings and see what I can find (you know, pubs, and other things).
I like to find the places that are off the beaten track, to see the bits most people miss and see where the locals hang out. I quite like the scuzzier bits of town, where the fringe parts of society are, away from the tourist facade. I guess these are liminal places, aren’t they?
You never know what undiscovered gems you might uncover, what unknown vistas you might come across.
I’m much the same with ideas and knowledge. I like to wander, see what catches my eye, what others may have overlooked. See what’s in the gaps in between.
It means I have a somewhat eclectic set of knowledge, which is why these newsletters can get a bit random.
And why I’m good to have on your pub quiz team.
Heroes and Villains
So, as we’re talking about liminality and what’s at and outside the margins, it’s about time we talked about Pirates!
Back in the time of the Golden Age of Pirates (1670s-1720s), everyone was a subject of a King or Queen. There was no Declaration of Human Rights, no-one was free.
Except the Pirates. They lived outside of the bounds of society, having broken its rules and replaced them with their own. A pirate ship was the only place in world where a slave could be a free man, where a woman could be an equal, where everyone was treated the same regardless of race, religion, gender, upbringing or anything else.
“Ah, yes,” I hear you say, “but the Pirates were criminals, enemies of the nation”.
Well, that depends.
You see, they were also valiant warriors and agents of the authorities.
Pirates were given ‘Letters of Marque’, which meant they were officially allowed to attack ships and settlements of enemy states. In which case, they were called ‘Privateers’. Most notably, Queen Elizabeth issued loads of Letters of Marque that allowed pirates to attack ships of King Phillip of Spain and take the gold and other riches - with a share being sent back to Her Majesty for the privilege. Not for nothing was she known as the Pirate Queen.
Governors of the British Territories, including the American colonies, also issued Letters of Marque to pirates on occasions, to protect them against foreign powers and keep their trade channels open.
So, were the pirates heroes or villains? Or somewhere in between? In a liminal space?
The Pirates were a major force in the New World and established a proto-republic in Nassau on New Providence Island (in the modern-day Bahamas), which operated under the Pirate Code. Eventually, their activities and their dangerous ideas led the British Crown to decide they were villains. Consequently, they were chased down by the Royal Navy, tried and hanged as criminals.
The Pirates disappeared but their ideas didn’t and they resurfaced in the American War of Independence, the French Revolution and the co-operative movement in the UK (a typically understated British response, you might say!). Freedom, Equality, Democracy re-emerging.
The Golden Age of Pirates was a liminal space, between the absolutist monarchies and the free republics and democracies we enjoy today. They were cast as the baddies but they were heroes to the downtrodden subjects of their oppressors, giving them hope that they too could one day be free.
They were prepared to die for their principles. As the American Pirate John Goldenworf declared “Give me freedom or give me the rope. For I shall not take the shackles that subjugate the poor to uphold the rich.” Since then, books and films have portrayed them as the underdogs fighting against the establishment for their freedom. I mean, that’s why we all secretly want to be pirates, isn’t it?
Much of what we cherish today was born out of this liminal time, the Golden Age of Pirates.
So that’s why I look in the in-between spaces. It’s where all the treasure is.
So, I don’t quite know what this was. A newsletter, a memoir, a history lesson? Or maybe something in between.😉
If this comment is under your excellent newsletter will my message be subliminal?