In an America that is far more diverse than in the past, it's not clear what organic lines new communities can grow along. Traditional neighborhoods wove people together in economic interdependence. Shopkeepers, schoolteachers, doctors and residents were all deeply involved in the local society.
New communities like Ladera tend to be exclusive, points out Tedd McDonald, associate professor of psychology at Boise State University. "They are highly segregated socioeconomically and racially, financially inaccessible to a major portion of the population." That can foster the wrong sense of community—what UCLA urban planner Angelika Lehrer calls "an exclusionary notion of community." Heather Parker felt it. Much as she loved the initial flurry of socializing, it rattled her husband every time he returned from his travels. He's a blue-collar guy, and he felt awkward hanging out with the other husbands, who were "office guys," explains Parker. "Ladera kind of forces everyone to be the same, and not everyone wants to be the same," she says.
New developments such as Ladera may even set residents up for disappointment. People come looking for what's marketed as a sense of safety but is "proxy for all their needs for connection," McDonald finds. "People are looking for meaning and purpose." Intelligently designed communities have been shown to increase community feeling among residents. But some needs are deeper, says the Boise psychologist, and "the infrastructure of people's lives is not there anymore to fulfill those needs. Familial closeness provides the fundamental support we need, but families today are scattered. Communities can provide a manufactured network, but it may not be as reliable."
