In 1950, sociologist David Riesman’s The Lonely Crowd posited that a strong sense of conformity in America was replacing genuine human connection with a performance of group belonging. Avid consumers of mass culture, we had become primarily motivated by a desire to fit in. By blending into the crowd, he argued, we were all hiding from each other in plain sight.

Fifty years later, that seemed like a quaint problem to have. From churches to clubs to labor unions, as political scientist Robert Putnam argued in his landmark 2000 book, Bowling Alone, our civic infrastructure had disintegrated. The once-conformist crowds had dispersed, leaving behind a social void. Hunger for peer approval may have been misguided, but having no peers was far worse.

Another quarter-century on, atomization has only intensified. American life is suffering a profound social contraction, largely driven by new technologies that facilitate isolation. In the post-pandemic years, more Americans are working alone, worshipping alone, scrolling alone, exercising alone, and orgasming alone. And we’re increasingly eating alone too.