The Collective Weirdness Index
A modest proposal for measuring civic health by shibboleths, subcultures, and strange local festivals
“The world is still a weird place, despite my efforts to make clear and perfect sense of it.” Hunter S. Thompson
In the US, we treat economic activity as a proxy for basically everything from well-being to stability and progress, even as research shows a growing divide between what our government calls a healthy economy and what people believe is a healthy—or even stable—economy. What’s missing from all of these is something quieter, but maybe more important: the cultural fabric that holds communities together.
In an age where algorithms are guiding much of what we wish was choice, tracking local idiosyncrasy could tell us more than GDP ever could. Yes, we’re getting more boring, but we’re also getting more fragile. Declining cultural diversity in terms of subcultures, local art scenes, and regional distinctiveness makes us less resilient. As unique cultural traditions are replaced by standardized and homogenous experiences, we lose innovation, community bonds, civic engagement, and economic stability—all critical elements of our ability to collectively solve problems, peaceably interact, and adapt to new challenges.
So then, what if one of the indicators of a thriving society is its collective weirdness—or, more formally, its cultural heterogeneity? If we’re going to measure societal health via proxy, there’s a case to be made for measuring idiosyncrasy.
Hear me out though: of the many negative byproducts of optimized-algorithms, monoculture is actually one we can kind of measure and potentially have some fun while we’re at it. Generally, things like cultural eccentricities, underground movements, and informal economies exist only within smaller regional clusters, so tracking these cultural signals might offer an interesting diagnostic view of our capacity for innovation.
So maybe we need a Collective Weirdness Index—a way to track non-monetary indicators of choice and freedom. Something that could include the most important nonsense like:
A shibboleth metric tracking local accent and dialect retention vs. newscaster-neutral convergence (looking at yinz, Pittsburgh)
Experimental art galleries per capita
Basement punk shows and backyard drag brunches per census tract
Fringe political candidates, weighted by hand-drawn yard signs that violate all known design principles
Regional food crimes that locals will defend to the death; bonus points if Wikipedia has a "controversy" section about it (y’all know it’s called pork roll).
Per capita rate of local festivals celebrating things no one else celebrates (Burgoo, mullet tosses, possum drops, Shad)
Local coffee shops to Starbucks ratio, includes improv comedy/open mic multiplier
Because if we’re all wearing the same clothes, using the same apps, and slinging the same slang, then eccentricity isn’t so much fading as being crowded out. And that’s a clear sign that our attention is being monopolized by too few sources.
Some cities already track things like "creative class workers" and "innovation districts" but it seems like these often end up measuring the pool of tech workers and consultants eating $20 grain bowls. Meanwhile, the couple who's been running an underground puppet theater for 20 years don't make it into economic development data, despite anchoring the cultural scene that quietly kicked off the whole neighborhood’s renaissance.
And sure, there are formal frameworks—UNESCO has a Cultural Diversity Framework, biologists have the Shannon Diversity Index, and economists their own fractionalization indices—but these mostly track what’s easy for governments and institutions to count.
What would likely be more useful (and entertaining) is a bottom-up, qualitative, and more subjective measure. One that captures the unstructured, informal, niche and local elements that are the true markers of a healthy and vibrant culture.
I mean I know it sounds silly, but we can get real-time data on Taylor Swift ticket sales yet have literally no idea how many zine libraries still exist, or how many Sicilian-American Brooklynites sip cawfee while telling tales of grandpa’s immigration from IT-lee.
So maybe there’s actually a real value in weirdness. And maybe if we paid more attention to it, we’d see it for what it is: a quiet form of resilience, just measured sideways.