The Anti-Social Generation and the Unattainable Concept of Solitude

I find that our generation, far more than that of our parents, is increasingly socially awkward. We are social when chatting in warm pub corners with our well-established peer groups but purposefully avoid chatting with strangers. Part of this is due to technology: with the help of Google Maps, we no longer need to approach other pedestrians for directions, and with Hinge and Tinder, strangers in bars, cafés, or supermarkets are no longer potential love interests but just more humans that we will never get to know.

We opt for self-checkout tills to enjoy a smoother, personless experience, devoid of inane small talk or judgements on one’s purchases. We adore the new-fangled coffee shops that provide large iPad screens for ordering because we are overly embarrassed about whether the barista quietly resents the length of our coffee order. We prefer online booking systems for restaurants to allow us to avoid chatting with a stranger on the other end of the phone. I remember my horror when my mother relinquished her unpaid role as my personal secretary, demanding that now, at the dawn of my second decade, I should make calls to doctors, dentists, and opticians myself. I couldn’t understand why, if I had their number, both them and I wouldn’t prefer a simple text exchange. 

For a generation already prone to awkwardness and insularity, the arrival of the pandemic was both a blessing and a curse. I recall unadulterated glee at hearing that my GCSE exams would have to be cancelled and that my summer holiday would stretch on and on for months. Yet, the reality was months spent cooped up inside, away from friends, missing teenage rites of passage such as house parties, underage drinking, and festivals. Yet, even once our bounds were finally extended beyond our homes, the two-metre rule stunted physical affection and hindered our masked conversation. Without the mandated hours of sociability enforced by school, it was easy to become introverted, preferring the warm embrace of a duvet and a TV screen to the big, scary, outside world. 

However, I was always glad of our antidote to this enforced separation: social media. I whiled away hours sitting on FaceTime with friends over those lonely months. It never felt as though we had lost connection with one another or allowed our friendship to falter, as we were in contact constantly. 

Yet I worry that social media is not the miracle cure I once believed it to be. A report by Minda Smiley found that Gen Z, on average, spends three hours and six minutes on social media each day. Yet 43 per cent of these users don’t actually contribute to discussions or exchanging messages, but instead passively view the interactions of others. Social media can act as a plaster on a deeper wound: instead of encouraging young people to get outside, create friendships, or experience new things, it makes a show of connecting to others, even in the absence of real friendship or activity. This is likely why our generation is the loneliest of all, with nineteen per cent of us confessing to feelings of loneliness.

Moreover, this false connectedness provided by social media isn’t just leading to loneliness, but it also means we are never experiencing true solitude. In the spare time provided by long train journeys, walking to and from the shops, or running on the treadmill, we plug in our headphones, open TikTok, or use this time to complete the Wordle. There is constant noise. I find myself incredibly guilty of this: I listen to music when showering, working, reading, working out, or walking. I’ll even replace music with podcasts for particularly boring activities (washing up, tidying, etc.) to ensure that active thinking is kept to a minimum. 

However, this resistance to ever being fully present only amplifies those negative thoughts of boredom or loneliness that we try to repress. Blocking out the constant racket provided by social media for just a few hours a day, or taking out your headphones during your walk on the beach, can allow you to achieve real solitude and practice the much-needed skill of being fully comfortable in one’s own company.

Illustration by Vera Kaganskaya