Our cities don’t need cooler rooms, they need warmer and greener third spaces

Some thoughts live in our minds rent-free—like a luxury not shared by the very physical spaces we need to think about. They stay with us during solitary walks or while watching strangers pass by in places that ask nothing from us except to be present. Because these moments usually happen in the transitions between our responsibilities, not every breakthrough is born in the comfort of our homes. 

That is why spaces meant for simply existing should be free: places where people do not have to buy something just to belong.

We all share a simple, quiet craving—a nearby sanctuary where we can just breathe, unwind, or get work done. Yet, for the average Filipino, this is less of a reality and more of a privilege. 

On any given afternoon, the search for a place to just ‘be’ turns into a slow, exhausting routine. You see it in the quiet desperation of students and workers huddled, paying 200 pesos for a latte not out of a love for specialty beans, but simply to buy two hours of reliable Wi-Fi, aircon, and a quiet corner. The same thing goes when you step back outside, hoping to find a patch of grass or a bench under a tree, only to watch the city’s concrete footprint quietly stretch further into the city’s horizon. 

In a society that constantly demands a fee for entry, we desperately need third spaces, public places where our minds can relax, rest, or do stuff just for free. And as the noise gets louder and the open spaces turn silent, a deeper question begins to surface: do genuine public spaces still exist in the Philippines, or has our peace of mind been trapped inside a system that slows life: a system that makes us wait for approvals, drains our energy with forms, and cages the spontaneity of simply enjoying public space?

What is a third space, and how the Philippines fails to have it

Sociologist Ray Oldenburg coined the term “third places” in his 1989 book The Great Good Place to describe the social surroundings separate from home as the first place and work or school as the second place. These are the vibrant, informal gathering grounds where you catch up with friends, encounter new faces, or simply sit among people. They are crucial for fostering a sense of belonging, lowering stress, and anchoring the community life. 

Across the globe, third places include public parks, libraries, community centers, and plazas that are freely accessible to everyone. Designed for participation rather than consumption, their value extends far beyond recreation. 

Studies consistently link democratized public spaces to stronger social cohesion, improved mental well-being, reduced loneliness, and greater civic engagement—making them essential components of healthy, livable cities. This aligns with Sustainable Development Goal (SDG) 11, which calls for inclusive, safe, resilient, and sustainable human settlements by promoting universal access to green and public spaces.

These third spaces, beyond their spatial description, intrinsically align with the Filipino instinct to seek both communion and contemplation—to understand ourselves through our interpersonal bonds and democratic rootedness while also retreating into moments of quietude and reflection. However, finding these spaces in the Philippines is easier said than done. 

While public parks and libraries exist, their availability remains uneven, marred by issues surrounding transportation, road safety, maintenance, and restrictive operating hours. For instance, recent spatial index studies reveal that Manila provides less than 1 square meter of public green space per resident—a staggering gap compared to the World Health Organization’s (WHO) minimum standard of 9 square meters per capita. 

The crisis is equally evident in the country’s public library system. According to the National Library of the Philippines, only 1,664 affiliated public libraries were operating nationwide as of February 2024. Although Republic Act No. 7743 mandates the establishment of public libraries across local government units, many communities still lack free spaces dedicated to learning and leisure. 

Even democratic, open sanctuaries within academic institutions—like the iconic Sunken Garden at the University of the Philippines Diliman—are a rare luxury rather than the standard. For the broader student population, most campuses lack the sweeping fields, ovals, and shaded walkways that function as vital, cost-free havens between classes. 

Third spaces in the Philippines are not your typical breath of fresh air 

In the Philippines, third spaces aren’t defined by green, wide parks or public spaces with access to different facilities like a playground or a communal space. In fact, the country, especially in Metro Manila, defines third space as something that does not require exposure to the sun or benches under canopy trees—third space is an enclosed room with air conditioner on. 

But that’s no surprise, because unlike countries with cold climates such as Europe or parts of East Asia, the Philippines’ geographical location lies near the equator, making it a tropical country with only two seasons, either too wet or too warm. Even so, factors such as intense weather conditions affect people’s ability to expose themselves outside of their homes while feeling comfortable. 

Hence, the rise of malls and cafes in Metro Manila has been the primary go-to as a third space.  SM Mall of Asia, Greenbelt, Glorietta, and even the famous Bonifacio High Street are among the places where people usually spend time alone, meet together with friends, or spend time with their family and loved ones. 

Even so, lack of public spaces in the country continues to discourage Filipinos from leaving their homes for relaxation. While third spaces like malls and shopping centres offer remarkable comfort, people are still generally required to spend money in order to make the most out of their stay, quench their thirsts and hunger, or to just use a space in general. 

Third spaces in the Philippines is not an isolated case. It is not simply because the country is simply too warm or that cities in different areas of the country do not have the capabilities to strictly enforce the developments of public spaces or parks. This issue is a collective outcome of political and social factors. 

While other countries thrive in the pleasure of having accessible public spaces, the country reels into a series of interconnected factors that leads to commercialized outcomes: the cost, planning, and lack of willed funding prohibit the country from becoming what the people deserve it to be. 

When third spaces thrive, people have better comfort 

Third spaces aren’t just a space for people to have a quiet seat or a peaceful spot. Many academic studies tie third spaces as a place for comfort and security, effectively reducing symptoms like anxiety and depression. 

In fact, studies in behavioral psychology revealed that interaction with other people while being in third spaces provide an oxytocin boost. This oxytocin boost, it being our “love hormone,” pertains to the indulgence on how we interact and socialize with others. A simple chat with a barista, a smile from a sales lady, or a small interaction with people around the third space is enough to provide comfort and belongingness, which in turn reduces loneliness. 

Third spaces heavily address the social well-being of individuals. Being in third spaces causes role decompression, where stressed parents, overworked workers, or even fatigued students can drop the burden from their shoulders and engage in an environment that fulfills a deep emotional need for belonging without the rigid demands of standard productivity. 

In a bustling city such as Metro Manila, where people tend to forget how to slow down for fear of getting behind, third spaces serve as a solution, a space where Filipinos could just drop everything for a single moment, stretch their shoulders, and take a deep breath. After all, for a country that gratifies hustle culture, third spaces teaches us the essence of slowing down without feeling burdened by toilsome responsibilities. 

Third spaces or marketplaces? 

A two-dimensional solution is easy to imagine: we recognize the absence of a third space, and so we build one. Yet a third axis lies in the political economy of hypercapitalism.

Look around for alternatives to third spaces in the Philippines, and what emerges are shopping malls and coffee shops, not because they embody the ideals of a third space, but because they remain among the few environments perceived as comfortable, secure, and air-conditioned. Ironically, these alternatives are inherently transactional. A seat in a café is contingent upon the purchase of a drink, while even the most unhurried stroll meanders through a space engineered for consumerism. 

It follows, then, that the scarcity of third spaces reflects more than an error in meticulous urban planning. It mirrors an economic logic that values land for the revenue it can generate and not for the communities it cultivates. 

Urban geographer David Harvey argues that many contemporary cities are now structured to produce and concentrate wealth at the expense of our people’s welfare. Every vacant lot is reconfigured as the next mixed-use development, or every open field as a future condominium. Therein, places that intend nothing beyond our presence are deemed indefensible as they offer no receipt at the end of our stay.

Nowhere is this pattern more palpable than in the Philippines, where the insatiable mallification of urban space has subtly made privately owned megamalls as the nation’s de facto “third spaces.” 

Rather than investing in civic landscapes, major property developers such as SM Development Corporation, Ayala Land, and Vista Land have constructed sprawling, self-contained townships where people can dwell, work, gather, and spend—all within a single corporate ecosystem designed to maximize profit by keeping residents and consumers within its orbit. 

A particularly relevant example is the redevelopment of the fire-ravaged UP Shopping Center into DiliMall within the University of the Philippines Diliman, transforming what was once a hub of everyday student necessities into a commercial complex under third-party management. 

While aimed at modernizing the state university’s amenities, the project has ignited protests over the privatization of a traditionally public and community-oriented space, as high rental rates have pushed out long-standing vendors and eroded the affordability that once made it a vital campus commons for the country’s scholars.

Furthermore, interwoven with this political economy is a cultural ethos that shapes how we perceive labor, leisure, and life in a country where grueling commutes and wage-eroding bills have become everyday conditions. While resilience has long been celebrated as a defining Filipino virtue, it has also, perhaps inadvertently, nurtured the belief that rest must be earned and that every conscious hour ought to yield measurable returns. 

This is the creed of hustle culture fed within the Filipino system—the glorification of perpetual toil and the subtle conflation of constant busyness with personal worth. Within such a climate, spaces devoted solely to lingering, meditating, or ideating cease to be regarded as public needs, and are instead relegated to the status of affluence for which we have neither the time nor the wherewithal. 

Rethinking and reclaiming our third spaces

Genuine public spaces in the Philippines may not have disappeared entirely, but they have become increasingly difficult to come by, concealed beneath the layers of commercialization and bureaucracy, existing more as exceptions than as guarantees. What has fallen more from view is the recognition that spaces without monetary exchange are not spaces without value.

Moving forward, the future of our cities should be a balanced accommodation between infrastructural and material growth and the unquantifiable, unpriced essentials of human life—between the first and second spaces that preserve our routines, and the third spaces that preserve our humanity.