The Anti-Social Century?

Salvador Dalí (Luna Luna)

My biggest "vice," one I thankfully share with my wife, is that we like to go out to dinner. If I die broke, that's where the money went.

It's not necessarily the food. I'm not bad in the kitchen and, after 40 years of cooking for my wife, I'm confident I can please our pallets better than most restaurants. No, the reason we go "out" is to be out, to be among people, noise, action, laughter, and to bop along to music, even crappy background music, with others. At least once a week we invite friends into our home for dinner for the same reason. Likewise for going out dancing: we could dance in our living room, but the point is socializing. We currently live in a place in which we know most of our neighbors. I often sit on my front porch with a book and always wind up chatting with passers by. We walk the dog twice a day, and not only for the physical exercise, but because our neighbors are also out walking their dogs. On a typical day, it can take an hour chat our way through a mile.

We have consciously chosen this lifestyle because we've seen too many people in America age into isolation and loneliness. But, it can feel like swimming up stream. The world seems to want us isolated. I could easily while away an hour scrolling through vaguely interesting things on my smartphone. It takes extra effort to go outside and engage, but I'm always happy I did. I feel more alive in contrast to the aftermath of scrolling when I feel, without exaggerating, a little more dead.

When we were young, this is how everyone we know lived: face-to-face. Today, many of the restaurants we frequent are half empty, but have bags of take out orders piled up around the cash register. I'm happy they're able to stay in business, but the steady stream of blank-faced customers who come through the door and grab their food to eat in front of Netflix is depressing. They hardly even say "hello" or "thank you." Grocery stores are full of professional shoppers, loading up carts for delivery. The movie theaters are virtually empty, even for blockbuster movies as people stay home, streaming their entertainment. And, of course, working remotely is no longer a trend, but rather a way of life. I recently saw a survey in which 80 percent of the respondents who had been with their partner for five or fewer years met through an online app. Even togetherness is accessed through solitude. There is a current Google ad being run for its new AI product that portrays young people having social-style conversations with a damned robot instead of, you know, a person.

Isolation is no longer just a problem of the elderly.

According to The Atlantic's latest cover story -- The Anti-Social Century (sorry, the story might be behind a paywall):

Eroding companionship can be seen in numerous odd and depressing facts of American life today. Men who watch television now spend seven hours in front of the TV for every hour they spend hanging out with somebody outside their home. The typical female pet owner spends more time actively engaged with her pet than she spends in face-to-face contact with friends of her own species. Since the early 2000s, the amount of time that Americans say they spend helping or caring for people outside their nuclear family has declined by more than a third.

My wife and I recently returned from a trip to Hanoi, Vietnam, where we participated the International Conference for Happiness and Well-being in Education hosted by TH School. The conference was wonderful, I came home with a lot to think about, but for the past couple months, the stories we've been telling are about our impressions of the social lives of the Vietnamese people. 

Hanoi is a city of 8.5 million, roughly the size of New York City. And like New York, which we visited over the holidays, you feel the massive population every time you go outside. The difference is that in NY most people are simply rushing from place-to-place, eyes forward (or down), earbuds installed, phone screens lit. It feels like you're perpetually in someone's way and they are perpetually in yours. In Hanoi, however, the crowds tend to be gathered together, in cafes, coffee houses and garden patches. I can't tell you how many times we rounded a corner to find dozens of people boisterously eating pho together, enjoying one another's company, not a smartphone in sight. 

The people of Hanoi seem to spend their days out on the sidewalk, pruning plants, washing dishes, preparing dinner, exercising, and, you know, living. The sounds of traffic are similar to everywhere else, but above it all, under it all, is the steady human sound, the talking and laughter of togetherness. Even in the biggest crowds, I was never once made to feel I was in someone else's way.

It's tempting to blame the pandemic, but the Vietnamese went through it as well. According to The Atlantic, this American trend toward isolation, toward an anti-social lifestyle, has been ongoing for decades, although it was obviously accelerated by Covid. It's tempting to joke that this is a boon to introverts, but as an introvert myself, there is a difference between choosing to  stay home with a good book and doing it day-after-day, year-after-year. Even introverts need a social life.

As an early childhood educator, I'm worried about how this is impacting our children. We know that a socially stunted childhood leads to a socially stunted adulthood. Anxiety and depression are currently spiking, not just among teenagers, but right down to our three-year-olds. Psychologists know that this is, at least in part, a direct result of a lack of a social life. Our play-based preschools provide the right kind of social environment for young humans, but more and more of our youngest citizens spend their days in increasingly academic settings in which socializing is intentionally kept to a minimum. 

This isn't about deep and abiding friendships, although that too is important, rather this is about simple daily social interactions.

Yesterday, the young man in front of me at the supermarket was attempting to purchase a canned beverage. His debit card wasn't working. The effort to talk with the cashier (a man about my age) was clearly a struggle for him as he tried to explain what was going on. After a couple minutes during which I could see his face reddening, I offered to buy his drink for him. He seemed stunned that I'd spoken to him, blank. The cashier clarified, "This man is kindly offering to buy your drink for you." Finally, suspiciously, the young man relented and let me pay. Only then, almost as an afterthought, he smiled at me. I took it as an unvoiced thank you. I could tell his anxiety was overwhelming him. As the kid walked away, I joked to the cashier, waving toward the racks of snacks, "I paid out of self-defense. If I'd had to wait one more minute, I'd have grabbed one of these impulse items." We then bantered back and forth about whether or not I should have a candy bar as he rung up my purchases. It was exactly the kind of stupid, social banter for which young people mock older people, but I walked out of there slightly more alive than I'd gone in.

The emergence of this phenomenon is insidious. It has snuck up on us slowly, and then suddenly, which is a blessing because we might have otherwise missed it until it's too late. The Atlantic article asserts that this is a uniquely American problem, and our experience in Hanoi suggests that this might be true, but if history is a guide, it won't be long before we've exported it, like we do most things, for better or worse . . . In this case, worse.

I love convenience as much as the next guy, but we need to come to grips with the high price we're paying for this world in which everyone can live as a "secular monk." I know that it's unhealthy for young children, not just socially, but emotionally and intellectually as well. Day-to-day socializing is an aspect of play that we don't often consider, but in many ways it stands at the center of why play is so important for human development. And this goes for all of us, not just the kids. 

So you know, in spirit of play, how about going outside today and say "Hi" to someone? You have nothing to lose but your isolation. It will make you feel a little more alive.

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