In 2000, Robert Putnam observed something peculiar. More Americans than ever were bowling. But fewer people were bowling in group leagues.
It was a simple observation. Our desire to go bowling alone is a metaphor for the postmodern decline of human connection. The kind of connection that allows communities to thrive.
Like any good social scientist, Putnam compiled a mountain of data to validate his findings. Turns out there was also a drop in dinner parties, group fitness, club memberships, church attendance, and even family meals. Trends that validated the waning of our desire to live in community with one another.
There is irony in the observation. It was made 25 years ago, before the pandemic, work-from-home, videoconferencing, streaming entertainment, or the iPhone and Peloton were invented. Putnam was on to something, but he had no idea how big. He couldn’t possibly predict these developments or how they would exacerbate our growing desire for isolation.
Some of this desire is natural. Each successive generation is less inclined to participate in life, driven in part by technological advances and in part by a move toward self-sufficiency.
Then, in 2000, video gaming and DVD rentals began replacing social gatherings. Participation in organized groups slowed. Suburban sprawl is physically separated, with people living, working, and playing in different places. It reduced the likelihood of bumping into a co-worker at the grocery store, church, or the Little League game.
Now, a quarter-century later, Putnam’s observations seem prescient.
The bowling leagues, civic clubs, and local organizations have not come back. Church attendance, as well as civic and political participation, has all waned. If anything, Putnam underestimated the magnitude of what was to come: a tremendous shift away from human connection and toward further isolation.
It’s as if we had a low-grade fever of social anxiety, and the pandemic threw gasoline on a smoldering dumpster fire.
Today, it’s a raging inferno of social isolation.
The simple truth is we got lazy, and the pandemic made us lazier. For years, we suffered from a terminal case of FOMO: Fear of Missing Out. After the pandemic, we shifted to a case of FOGO: Fear of Going Out. People simply decided that taking a shower, getting dressed, and leaving the house was too hard. Especially when they no longer go to an office for work during the day.
There are thousands of symptoms suggesting that the viral infection is taking over the host body.
A recent Gallup survey suggests that alcohol consumption is at its lowest level in 90 years.
Some suggest we are finally coming around to the realization that alcohol is bad for us.
Hogwash.
The U.S. has never been more unhealthy or more obese. People haven’t magically decided to get healthy or convert to legalized marijuana products. No, the drop in alcohol consumption is a symptom of fewer opportunities — or desire — for social interaction.
Consider that instead of going out to a movie theater today, we simply stay home and binge-watch shows on Netflix or Amazon Prime. Most meetings today take place on video conferencing platforms. Church can now be attended online with communion mailed or delivered beforehand. Dinner has become a transaction. It’s ordered online and delivered to the door.
We got comfortable spending more time at home during the pandemic, and we liked it.
But like the work-from-home trend, it’s convenient but not healthy in the long run. The truth is that our advanced technology has become an enabler, allowing us to spend more and more time isolated at home.
Aloneness and loneliness can look identical from the outside. Consider two different people bowling alone. The bowler in Lane 7 is alone, but the bowler in Lane 11 is lonely. Aloneness is a physical construct. It’s being alone and feeling inadequate. But loneliness is an emotional construct. It’s being alone and feeling inadequate.
You can be alone without being lonely, just like you can be lonely without being alone.
The truth is, we built technology that promised connection but delivered isolation. The bowling leagues are gone, movie theaters are empty, and families are often staring at screens during meals.
It makes me wonder, do you think we would be this socially isolated without the pandemic experience? Or without modern technology?
More time alone. It feeds on itself. Pretty soon, being alone becomes your default setting. And before you know it, you are bowling alone.
But life (and bowling) were never intended to be solo sports.