Civil society steps up

There's been so much discussion and debate about the government's response to the pandemic that it might leave the impression that our only options in such a crisis are a hyperactive (and underperforming) state or a sort of Hobbesian world in which individuals are forced to fend for themselves. This false choice neglects the role of private institutions such as businesses, charities and religious organizations.

These “little platoons,” as Edmund Burke, the father of conservatism, famously described them, have stepped up to help those in need get through this unprecedented experience. While this communitarian impulse has manifested itself in uniquely modern ways (including more secular and online than in the past), the presumed “death of civil society” has shown itself to be overstated over the past several months.

One of these non-traditional forms of civil society is the Barstool Fund, which is pooling donations from small donors, along with wealthy athletes and celebrities, to help struggling small businesses in the United States. At the time of writing, it's raised more than US$25 million ($32 million) from over 180,000 donors and provided support to 128 businesses — ranging from the Red Rock Tavern in Hartford, Conn., to Chacko's Family Bowling Center in Wilkes-Barre, Pa., to Ken's Diner in Skokie, Ill., to the Negro League Baseball Museum in Kansas City, Mo.

It's a wonderful initiative that unintentionally tells us something about the human instinct for community and how it's expressing itself in the modern age.

The Barstool Fund is an initiative of Barstool Sports, which will be familiar to many younger readers and can be challenging to properly describe to older ones. It was started by Dave Portnoy as a print publication on sports gambling in 2003 and has since evolved into a digital media company with a massive online audience and annual revenues of roughly US$100 million per year.

Barstool's sagacious mix of sports, culture and lifestyle has proven to be a potent content offering for its target demographic of university-aged men. The website regularly runs more than 100 daily blog posts and its 41 active podcasts (including “Pardon My Take” and “Call Her Daddy,” which are among the top 20 podcasts in the United States) make it the seventh-biggest podcast publisher in the U.S.

Its online audience is young and deeply committed. More than two-thirds of Barstool users are under the age of 30 and one-third engages its content on a daily basis. That level of sustained loyalty is basically unmatched on the internet. Barstool's most avid audience — the so-called “Stoolies” — are the primary reason why its market valuation is now estimated to be over US$450 million.

Barstool has its share of critics. It's been called “polarizing,” “misogynistic” and “toxic” for some of its content. Many of these critiques are justified. You probably wouldn't want your mom or daughter to spend much time on the site.

But it's tapping into something significant. It understands its elusive audience and connects with them in a way that mainstream culture does not. Barstool is offering more than sports commentary and profane jokes. It's providing young men with a sense of community rooted in common interests, experiences and even language.

A big part of its appeal is Portnoy himself who, though no longer the company's CEO, has full control over its content and remains the face of the organization. His success in large part reflects his ordinariness. Portnoy looks and speaks like someone his audience would hang out with to watch a game or drink a beer.

In recent weeks, he's used the Barstool platform and his own social media profile to do some good. The Barstool Fund relies on a combination of small donations and large ones from Portnoy's network, including NFL stars Tom Brady and Aaron Rodgers.

The process is simple: struggling businesses complete a short online application and submit a video making the case for support. Portnoy and his team make a decision in a day or two and contact the business owners to let them know that they've been selected for ongoing financial support through the pandemic. The videos of him speaking to the successful applicants are real, authentic and touching.

The fund's administrative simplicity stands in stark contrast to the political gridlock in Washington and the slow, confusing and bureaucratic processes elsewhere. It's a powerful example of a non-governmental, civil-society response to the pandemic.

More generally, Barstool Sports' significant popularity is a sign that young people — particularly young men — are in search of a source of community and kinship in our secular age. It will necessarily take different forms than in the past. And there are no doubt limits to virtual communities compared to the traditional, face-to-face ones that they're replacing. But our natural desire to belong to a little platoon hasn't gone away. If anything, it's only been heightened by the pandemic.