Rewind a few decades and there was this thing that would happen, where a fellow human would just suddenly turn up at your door. They would be there even though you hadn’t ordered anything online (this was in an era before Jeff Bezos had amassed a fortune equal to the GDP of the poorest 48 countries in the world).
They were primarily there simply for entertainment, because at this particular point in history there were only five channels on TV, two of which were showing a test pattern and three of which were showing re-runs of shows that were terrible the first time around. This fellow human might desire your company for the purpose of a water balloon fight, letting off some fireworks or discussing that far-fetched sci-fi show where everyone talked to each other on these fanciful tv/phone contraptions… as if that would ever happen.
On any hot day 35 kids would magically appear on the doorstep of the one kid whose family had a pool. Throughout all of summer that kid never had a single opportunity to feel lonely.
It wasn’t just the kids that were into unannounced visiting. There would be relatives and friends and neighbours and parents of misplaced children popping in and out all the time. Often, they would drink this disgusting thing called tea. Throughout the entire community there was a complex social support network sustained by Bushells, Arrowroot biscuits and neighbourhood gossip.
There were also more organised gatherings. On a Saturday night there was always a chance we would be whisked away to an exotic part of our suburb. Mostly it would be for a standard barbecue with burnt sausages, but occasionally someone would attempt to be posh and hold a fondue party. There, our parents would engage in chit-chat and communal cheese dipping whilst we kids ran amok with other humans who were roughly our own size.
When a tool was needed, no one thought to go shopping for one. Instead, you would just ask a neighbour. After a cuppa and a Monte Carlo (the neighbours who owned the best tools also had the best biscuits), they would direct you to the other neighbour who was currently borrowing it. Then you would lob on their doorstep, dunk a few Scotch Fingers and rope them in to helping you out with the garden job that you needed the tool for. Eventually you would return the tool to the original owner along with a whole bunch of chokos (an abundant but underwhelming fruit that festooned suburban fences). At some point they would then come back brandishing a choko pie and to be polite you would force yourself to eat it with them.
Back then, people didn’t have the same opportunity to be lonely, because they were all constantly coming around wanting to return a drill, borrow a cup of sugar or in urgent need of an extra fielder for a game of street cricket.
Then things changed.
Somewhere along the line it became socially unacceptable to just lob on someone’s doorway unannounced. Kids stopped being free range. We all became stupidly busy and the thought of having ten people and their grotty kids over for a fondue party went from being a joyous event, to an unimaginable imposition.
TVs got ever bigger and started having evermore stuff on them. Games consoles and computers started winning people away from street cricket. Mobile phones came along and we discovered texting. Suddenly, instead of agreeing to meet up at a certain time and place, we could just text each other with excuses as to why we could no longer meet up.
As the internet advanced, so did our ability to get by without face-to-face human interactions. We could electronically shield ourselves from social awkwardness, bad breath, potential rejection, annoying shop assistants or the general effort of making an effort.
YouTube started giving us advice, so we stopped asking the old bloke up the street. Instead of borrowing a tool, we could now spend three hours comparing 185 different options online. After making a contribution to the Bezos fortune, we would then patiently wait for a delivery driver to appear on our underutilised doormat. Instead of complaining to friends about how the stupid thing broke the first time we used it, we would spend more of our free time writing a lengthy 1-star review.
After receiving the magical sci-fi phones with the built-in telly, we realised slightly too late that they were incredibly addictive. Our ability to hold engaging face-to-face conversations rapidly diminished as our dopamine receptors screamed out at us to give them yet another cat meme.
Technology isn’t the only factor leading to loneliness. Unaffordable housing means that few people can afford to live in the same suburbs they grew up in. Forced to scatter, catching up with the ones we care about more often means getting on a plane, rather than just walking down the street.
Fear has also got to us. While over past decades most crime statistics have fallen significantly, our consumption of nasty news stories, scary social media and terrifying true crime podcasts has increased exponentially. Our assumption that most people are mostly good has been shaken and stranger danger plays a big part in how willing we are to connect.
The global pandemic forced us to isolate yet further. With hugging and gathering banned, loneliness became a new normal. We started working from home and would see others only via scheduled Teams meetings, where 63% of the time at least one party couldn’t log in, get their audio/video to work, or would freeze mid-sentence.
Human contact is a human need. During the pandemic our mental health suffered, with a 25% increase in common mental health conditions. While we learned to survive in isolation, we were far from thriving.
While technology has progressed almost unimaginably over the past twenty years, it has failed to make us feel connected. Australians now have fewer social interactions than we did back then and 1 in 3 of us now report being lonely. Levels of loneliness are now highest amongst young people (aged 15-24) who are also the greatest users of technology.
While we can’t rewind the world, there are ways that each of can rekindle human connection. Below are a few of the key strategies that researchers recommend:
Acknowledge Loneliness Without Shame
Loneliness is a natural human signal, like hunger or thirst, that tells us we need connection. Simply recognising and accepting that we feel lonely, is the first step toward addressing it.
Make the effort to meet up in person
While digital communication has its place, in-person interactions are far more effective in fulfilling emotional needs. Real-world engagement helps us feel genuine connection in ways that are almost impossible through a screen.
Engage in Shared Activities
Participating in group activities, whether it is Park Run, an art class or volunteering, can foster organic connections. These shared experiences help reduce the pressure of one-on-one socialising and allow us to find the people we may most naturally connect with.
Be Intentional About Reaching Out
Schedule and prioritise regular catch-ups with friends or family. Even if you lose terribly on games night, you will still gain a mental health win from the social experience. The more consistently you see people, the deeper the bonds you will develop.
Join the Club
There are a huge range of community organisations and clubs that create environments for connection. Most are eager to welcome new members. Find something you love doing and find the people that share your passion.