By: Muna Khan - @inquirerdotnet
I cannot count the number of times I was made to give up my bedroom for a relative visiting wherever we were living as expats in the ’70s to ’90s. It was not a choice. In fact, I didn’t even know I had a choice until I turned 21. It was pretty common for people to turn up unannounced—aunties and uncles who helped raise us—and we were expected to be there, irrespective of homework, exams, etc. We were scolded if we complained about unexpected guests.
Now, I can’t remember the last time we had an unexpected visitor drop by. I myself have not dropped in on anyone without calling to check if they are available. I guess we’re all just that busy now.
Technology has undoubtedly changed our lives and made the world smaller; we can talk to friends and family anywhere, anytime. You can attend birthdays, weddings, even funerals online. You can find everything you need online; you may even be safer online. But you are also cocooned in your own world online and the internet has made us more self-absorbed.
Yet paradoxically there’s a loneliness epidemic all over the world. The United Kingdom was the first to announce a minister for loneliness in 2018, with the aim of reducing feelings of isolation, anxiety, and suicide ideation. Japan followed in 2021 as it sought to address the social isolation caused by COVID-19 which also saw the first uptick in suicide in 11 years.
Maybe we’re ashamed to say “I’m lonely” because loneliness is seen as taboo, something to feel embarrassed about. Perhaps because we are seen as a family-oriented society, with a strong sense of community, it’s hard to say you’re lonely when you’re surrounded by people, even when you don’t want to be.
As sad as that is, I’m more worried about younger folks who may not even know they are lonely because they believe their community is online. But as their elders, we know better: It is not the same as showing up for someone in their time of grief and happiness or just to shoot the breeze.
“The liminal spaces of our new world are massive—easy for us to be swallowed into—and disorienting,” writes Athena Dixon in “The Loneliness Files,” part memoir, part critique on technology’s impact on our lives.
Loneliness is personal but it’s also the result of technological advancement in communication. By now, most of us have experienced some form of isolation courtesy of the pandemic. In fact, isolation was mandated; quarantine was essential for one’s survival. Some isolated with families while others were on their own—both faced issues: Either wanting space or craving company.
Back in the day, artists and writers sought solitude and produced great works of art. Today, if you have a minute to yourself, you reach for your phone, as if being left alone with your thoughts is too awful a task to bear. Solitude is necessary for creation but look around you and everyone is scrolling on their phones, bookmarking places we’ll never travel to or books we’ll never read. We are simply “liking” posts, not living lives. We’re moving away from what made us human in the first place.
Given the current economic crisis, which makes it harder to meet up with friends because we simply cannot afford to, could we begin to see a loneliness epidemic among youngsters, the largest demographic in the country and one that is always online?
We won’t even get a minister to care about this. They would probably tax loneliness if they could. Or happiness. Or breathing, bad air at that, too.
Simone Heng, who wrote a book on loneliness, told Al Jazeera English: “Online connection is the junk food of connection.” How can we find our way back to that time when we showed up for each other and didn’t have so many boundaries that are isolating us?
Dixon writes about her overwhelming loneliness. “I know there are those who feel the world is always just a little too far away or a little too close—never comfortable in either situation,” she writes.
Loneliness is more than a mental health issue; it has serious health consequences. Loneliness can increase our chances of dementia, heart disease, depression, early death.
The internet is filled with tips on how to manage it—finding hobbies, volunteering, exercise. But my nonexpert, tried, and tested tip is to embrace it. To resist Netflix, true crime podcasts, the news—all these 24/7 connections are geared to keep you distracted from facing something you’re avoiding. I believe a period of solitude helps you reflect on things that matter, which in my case, was relationships with friends. We meet to talk about how we’re doomed, but at least we are doomed together. Dawn/Asia News Network
