There’s a new trend in the cafes of Athens. I first saw it in Northern Europe, and now it’s made its way here: if you have a laptop with you, you’re made to feel like a second class citizen.
It comes in different strains. In a hip spot in Berlin last year that sold walnut lattes, signs proclaiming ‘no laptops’ adorned the windows and tables. At The Little Tree cafe in my neighborhood, where books line the walls, staff greet you with a speech about the two-hour seating limit. The Third Place in Plaka takes a novel approach, guiding remote workers to a common table. But the result is the same.
The problem isn’t the rule. It’s the owners’ premises, after all. I understand that a customer tying up a table for hours with a single coffee is bad for business. And, well, digital nomadism has exploded. It doesn’t thrill me to enter any space filled with faces behind screens.
My issue is with how the cafes enforce the rule. It creates a negative atmosphere; it makes me feel unwelcome, policed, infantilised. (And stirs rebellious demons deep within me.)
Because even without their prompting, I instinctively know not to abuse my time at a table with a laptop. And I bet the average person does too.
These laptop-unfriendly establishments all have something in common: a relaxed, progressive vibe, paired with an impulse to control. They’re practising the ‘strict father’ model: subtle authoritarianism, underpinned by mistrust.
And I see this kind of micromanagement somewhere else, too: in activist spaces.
Like the group that held a pro-Palestine event in Germany a few months ago. They refused to invite journalists who disagreed with them, fearing bad coverage. The event didn’t get much airplay.
Like the online activist roundtable I attended last year, where organisers filtered audience questions in advance to avoid anything ‘controversial’.1 The result was a stage-managed discussion — and people tuned out.
Like the ‘safe space’ policies you still see in movements today — ostensibly used to protect vulnerable participants, but really to avoid awkward disagreement or discomfort.
* * *
There’s a better way: to trust your audiences rather than control them. To allow them to make up their own minds, even if they might get it wrong. To welcome disagreement, with the aim of broadening your base. To let go.
Instead of barring unfriendly journalists from your events, bring them in and say “Look, we’ve had a lot of bad coverage. We hope you’ll approach your reporting on this openly. And of course, write what you find.”
Instead of implementing ‘safe space’ policies, remind people that this is a place for respect, not agreement. “We welcome debate, as long as it’s expressed without personal attacks.”
Instead of pre-filtering audience questions to avoid controversy, do the job of moderating! Ask that questions are short, respectful and relevant — even if they’re critical.
And instead of curbing remote workers in your cafes with rules that make them want to hurl their laptops at you, how about: “We welcome people working here — just be mindful of the space and others. If it’s busy and you’re staying long, feel free to check with us or move to the shared table.”
* * *
Nudges, soft bans, subtle controls… they’re the default tactic of the political establishment and the hard right. But when movements use them, they lose credibility, and the chance to expand.
If you’re out of power and hungry to grow, building trust with people who don’t yet agree with you is the only viable path.
Scary? Sure. But it’s worth it.
Good luck with your projects, and see you next week,
Mehran
Notes
1: Confession: I considered doing the same thing for a recent event. But luckily I snapped myself out of it.