There is a problem brewing in our midst — one which I reckon to be the greatest of our generation. There is no boiling point to this problem. In fact, its consequences are already felt by each of us. Some say we’re living in the midst of a second pandemic which has been accelerated by not only the global COVID-19 outbreak, but also by other means. Between smartphones, social media, DoorDash and Zoom calls, we are losing touch with our communities. While a curated social sphere can often bring us comfort, we should consider the unintended consequences of alienating ourselves from our physical neighbors. COVID-19 has further atomized a generation of lonely, terminally online teens, and I don’t think policymakers are prepared to confront this uncharted territory yet. How do we fix this?
In 2020, a Cigna study found that approximately 79 percent of Generation Z are lonely, with loneliness defined as “a score of 43 or higher on the UCLA Loneliness Scale.” Around 71 percent of millennials are likely to be lonely according to this study, with baby boomers faring exceptionally well at 50 percent — this is great news to me, since I, unlike some, have compassion for my elders. The study seems to dispute the narrative that loneliness is the greatest problem among America’s elderly, but I’m not entirely satisfied with drawing conclusions from this data. Loneliness is an emotion, after all. It’s far more convoluted to draw some arbitrary line in the sand in a study than it is to simply ask people if they are lonely. In other words, loneliness has little to do with how many people I am surrounded by, and everything to do with my perceived social isolation.
It seems some pollsters feel the same way as me. In a 2021 global Ipsos survey, 41 percent of people reported “becoming lonelier over the last six months,” passing the Jacob Wisnock scale of loneliness. These results are concerning to me because they show that there really is a substantial amount of people self-identifying as lonely and this problem is likely affecting our youth disproportionately. The survey reinforces the Cigna study and captures a snapshot of how the world was feeling a few months after the COVID-19 pandemic started spreading globally.
I’d like to identify the root of this problem, but truthfully, I think it’s reductive to frame any particular advent as the primary cause of Generation Z’s loneliness. It’s very likely the global pandemic played a role, especially by exacerbating preexisting factors contributing to loneliness among youth. Social media, to which the atomization of our society is so often attributed, seems like another no-brainer, but too often becomes a scapegoat in such conversations. One University of Pittsburgh study found that the most frequent social media consumers are at a higher risk of perceived social isolation. Beyond that, we can identify failures in city planning as contributors to national loneliness. Our overwhelming car dependency, for instance, encourages solitary commutes and could be the reason why your sidewalk sucks. Video games, my personal poison, should also be considered as a cause of loneliness in my generation. So often hailed as a futuristic art medium, video game innovations are just as often geared toward making the most addictive product possible.
Though I’d consider my experience with video games an overall positive one, it serves as an example of the isolating effects of gaming culture. Between 2016 and 2021, I logged a total of 6,000 hours on Smite, a competitive video game. Smite grabbed me when I was a really lonely kid. My family had just moved across the country, and I had been struggling to make friends in my new home, Buffalo. I would go on to compete in the game, winning modest tournament sums and forming unusual connections with people across the continent. Gaming shaped my high school experience and isolated me from a lot of my peers. If it hadn’t been for my emergence as a Smite prospect, I probably wouldn’t look back on those years as fondly. Loneliness was a common discussion topic in late-night Discord calls with teammates and friends — we shared an experience of isolation that is becoming increasingly prevalent. Smite, to many of us, was an unhealthy addiction as much as it was an enriching extracurricular.
I think the critical factor in the puzzle of Generation Z loneliness is likely the event that has shaped our late adolescence the most: the COVID-19 pandemic. The pandemic has encouraged isolation through all of its little convenient inventions. If no one needs to see me in class, why get out of bed? Don’t endanger others by shopping in a store — use Instacart instead. We’ve been forced out of necessity to neglect these admittedly minor social interactions. We spend more time in our homes, and I worry we’ve gotten too comfortable. Smite — the ancient, dying game with which I found my attachment waning — was infused with new and returning players after the schools went online in 2020, much to the excitement of my community bubble. Over spring break, my mom told me offhand while we were in Target that it had been months since she had spent time in a store. A lack of mask mandates had rendered such stores inhospitable to those with preexisting conditions.
Now, as the Binghamton University mask mandate is finally lifted, we find ourselves collectively tasked with reconstructing a society damaged physically and psychologically by the pandemic. I must say I’ve played a lot of internet chess and Persona 4, but now it’s time to get an internship. I still feel entitled to order Chinese food over DoorDash, but maybe next time I’ll invite friends over to eat with me. There are little ways we can heal ourselves and those closest to us. Big Oil has even chimed in by using rising gas prices to encourage you to carpool or use public transport, for example.
Our government should also find its role in the healing process. Now’s a good time to invest in infrastructure that promotes socialization. Let’s reclaim the streets from cars and expand the metro system — not just for the environment, but to promote a return to normalcy more ideal than what we expected before the outbreak. Let’s ask our lawmakers to reel in tech giants and pay greater attention to the social impacts of social media and gaming. It takes cooperation between individuals and their communities to combat the symptoms of loneliness in our society, but if we pay attention to the lessons COVID-19 taught us, we can build institutions stronger than those that came before.
Jacob Wisnock is a freshman majoring in political science.