Georg Simmel may not be a household name like Karl Marx or Max Weber, but his work is painfully relevant to anyone who has ever felt awkward in a social setting (so, everyone). Unlike grand theorists who tackled capitalism, bureaucracy, and revolutions, Simmel focused on something far more insidious: everyday interactions. Why do we make small talk when nobody likes it? Why do we pour our souls out to taxi drivers but avoid deep conversations with family? Why does city life feel both exciting and soul-crushing at the same time? Simmel saw these contradictions and dedicated his career to explaining why human relationships are simultaneously fulfilling and deeply, deeply weird.
Why Small Talk Exists (Despite Being Universally Hated)
Simmel argued that small talk isn’t pointless drivel; it’s a social lubricant that helps maintain relationships without requiring actual emotional investment. It’s why we talk about the weather when we could be discussing mortality, tax brackets, or why Greg from Accounting is insufferable.
Small talk is essentially a survival mechanism for modern life. It establishes that we are friendly but not too friendly, engaged but not emotionally dependent. It’s a way to acknowledge each other’s existence without risking meaningful connection. Think about it: asking “How was your weekend?” is safer than asking “Do you ever think about how fleeting and meaningless our existence is?” One gets a polite smile, the other gets you reported to HR.
But not everyone is good at small talk. Neurodivergent people, introverts, and people who just can’t be bothered struggle with this forced social ritual. If you’ve ever answered “How are you?” with an overly detailed account of your recent existential crisis, Simmel would have found you fascinating.
The Stranger Theory: Why We Confess Our Darkest Secrets to Uber Drivers
Simmel’s concept of “the stranger” explains why we sometimes share things with random people we’ll never see again. The stranger exists in society but isn’t fully part of it. They float on the edge of social groups, close enough to observe but too distant to judge. This is why you’ll spill your life story to a bartender but refuse to tell your mum how your job is actually going.
This phenomenon is particularly evident in travel. Ever met someone at an airport, bonded over shared flight misery, and within an hour, you knew about their failed marriage, childhood traumas, and bizarre hobby of collecting antique spoons? That’s the stranger effect in action. You’ll never see them again, so there’s no social risk in oversharing.
The modern version of this is, of course, social media. People will reveal their innermost thoughts to thousands of strangers online while maintaining an icy level of detachment from people they actually know. Simmel would have had a field day with Twitter.
Urban Life: Why Cities Are Both Exciting and Soul-Crushing
Simmel was one of the first sociologists to argue that cities fundamentally change how humans interact. Urban environments force us to engage with an overwhelming number of people, so we develop coping mechanisms to survive the sheer volume of social contact. This is why people in big cities are both highly social and completely indifferent to one another.
If you live in a small town, ignoring someone you know is a crime punishable by social exile. In a city, making eye contact with a stranger on the Tube is practically an act of war. Simmel called this the “blasé attitude”—city dwellers develop a thick emotional skin to avoid being constantly overwhelmed. This explains why Londoners don’t react to a man in a dinosaur costume skateboarding down Oxford Street, but in a village, it would make the local paper.
City life also forces us into bizarre social contradictions. We crave community but actively avoid unnecessary interaction. We are surrounded by people but often feel incredibly lonely. We want to be part of something bigger but also desperately need personal space. This tension is what makes city living both exhilarating and mentally exhausting.
The Duality of Social Life: Why We Crave Both Connection and Distance
Simmel believed human relationships are a constant balancing act between wanting to belong and wanting to be left alone.
We want close friendships, but also personal space. We want to be noticed, but not stared at. We want to be unique, but not weird enough to be shunned by society.
This explains:
- Why introverts and extroverts constantly misunderstand each other.
- Why working from home is both a blessing and a curse.
- Why socialising is fun until you suddenly need to lie down in a dark room.
Simmel argued that modern life forces us into paradoxes—we are surrounded by people yet often lonely, connected yet detached, hyper-social yet exhausted by it all.
Why Simmel Would Have Been Great at Observing Modern Social Weirdness
If Simmel were alive today, he would have a field day with social media, remote work, and how we interact in digital spaces.
- Social media is basically a giant urban environment—we interact with thousands of people, yet feel disconnected.
- Online friendships follow his “stranger” theory—we reveal things we wouldn’t in person because digital distance makes it feel safer.
- The workplace “LinkedIn personality” vs. the real you—Simmel would love to analyse why people write things like, “Excited to leverage cross-functional synergy!” when they mean, “This job is slowly killing me.”
The Rituals of Everyday Life: Why Everything We Do is a Bit Ridiculous
Simmel was fascinated by how even the most mundane parts of daily life are structured by hidden social rules. Consider the ritual of ordering coffee. There is a precise dance between barista and customer, a strict script to follow:
- Approach the counter but not too aggressively.
- Order, ideally without making eye contact for too long.
- Stand awkwardly to the side while pretending to check your phone.
- Retrieve your coffee, say “thanks” even if they get your order wrong.
- Leave as quickly as possible.
Any deviation from this script—like starting a full conversation with the barista or lingering too long at the counter—immediately makes the situation uncomfortable for everyone. Simmel argued that these kinds of micro-interactions, while seemingly trivial, are the glue that holds society together.
Final Thought: Embracing the Chaos of Social Life
Simmel’s work teaches us that awkwardness, contradictions, and social paradoxes aren’t just quirks of personality—they’re baked into society. Humans are inherently contradictory creatures who want both intimacy and independence, community and solitude, connection and distance.
So, next time you accidentally overshare with a stranger, freeze during small talk, or feel weirdly detached from city life, just remember: Simmel saw it coming.
AJ Wright is a quiet yet incisive voice navigating the surreal world of sociology, higher education, and modern life through the unique lens of a neurodivergent mind. A tech-savvy PhD student hailing from South Yorkshire but now stationed in the flatlands of Lincolnshire, AJ writes with an irreverence that strips back the layers of academia, social norms, and the absurdities of daily life to reveal the humour lurking beneath.
As an autistic thinker, AJ’s perspective offers readers a rare blend of precision, curiosity, and wit. From dissecting the unspoken rituals of academia—like the silent war over the office thermostat—to exploring the sociology of “neurotypical small talk” and the bizarre hierarchies of campus coffee queues, AJ turns the ordinary into something both profound and hilarious.
AJ’s unassuming nature belies the sharpness of their commentary, which dives deep into the intersections of neurodiversity, tech culture, and the often-overlooked quirks of human behaviour. Whether questioning why university bureaucracy feels designed by Kafka or crafting surreal parodies of academic peer reviews, AJ writes with a balance of quiet intensity and playful absurdity that keeps readers coming back for more.
For those seeking a blog that is equal parts insightful, irreverent, and refreshingly authentic, AJ Wright provides a unique perspective that celebrates neurodiversity while poking fun at the peculiarities of the world we live in.
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