February 2015 59
W
HAT do we call this time?
It’s not the information
age: the collapse of popu-
lar education movements
left a void now filled by
marketing and conspiracy theories.
Like the stone age, iron age and space
age, the digital age says plenty about our
artefacts but little about society. The
anthropocene, in which humans exert
a major impact on the biosphere, fails
to distinguish this century from the pre-
vious twenty. What clear social change
marks out our time from those that pre-
cede it? To me it’s obvious. This is the
Age of Loneliness.
When Thomas Hobbes claimed that
in the state of nature, before author-
ity arose to keep us in check, we were
engaged in a war “of every man against
every man”, he could not have been more
wrong.
We were social creatures from the
start, mammalian bees, who depended
entirely on each other. The hominims of
East Africa could not have survived one
night alone. We are shaped, to a greater
extent than almost any other species,
by contact with others. The age we are
entering, in which we exist apart, is
unlike any that has gone before.
Three months ago we read that lone-
liness has become an epidemic among
young adults. Now we learn that it is just
as great an affliction of older people. A
study by Independent Age shows that
severe loneliness in England blights the
lives of 700,000 men and 1.1m women
over 50, and is rising with astonishing
speed.
Ebola is unlikely ever to kill as many
people as this disease strikes down.
Social isolation is as potent a cause of
early death as smoking 15 cigarettes
a day; loneliness, research suggests, is
twice as deadly as obesity. Dementia,
high blood pressure, alcoholism and
accidents – all these, like depression,
paranoia, anxiety and suicide, become
more prevalent when connections are
cut. We cannot cope alone.
Yes, factories have closed, peo-
ple travel by car instead of buses, use
YouTube rather than the cinema. But
these shifts alone fail to explain the
speed of our social collapse. These struc-
tural changes have been accompanied by
a life-denying ideology, which enforces
and celebrates our social isolation. The
war of every man against every man
– competition and individualism in
other words – is the religion of our time,
justified by a mythology of lone rangers,
sole traders, self-starters, self-made
men and women, going it alone. For the
most social of creatures, who cannot
prosper without love, there is now no
such thing as society, only heroic indi-
vidualism. What counts is to win. The
rest is collateral damage.
British children no longer aspire to
be train drivers or nurses, more than a
fifth now say they “just want to be rich”:
wealth and fame are the sole ambitions
of 40% of those surveyed. A government
study in June revealed that Britain is
the loneliness capital of Europe. We are
less likely than other Europeans to have
close friends or to know our neighbours.
Who can be surprised, when everywhere
we are urged to fight like stray dogs over
a dustbin?
We have changed our language to
reflect this shift. Our most cutting insult
is loser. We no longer talk about people.
Now we call them individuals. So per-
vasive has this alienating, atomising
term become that even the charities
fighting loneliness use it to describe
the bipedal entities formerly known as
human beings. We can scarcely complete
a sentence without getting personal.
Personally speaking (to distinguish
myself from a ventriloquist’s dummy),
I prefer personal friends to the imper-
sonal variety and personal belongings to
the kind that don’t belong to me. Though
that’s just my personal preference, oth-
erwise known as my preference.
One of the tragic outcomes of lone-
liness is that people turn to their
televisions for consolation: two-fifths
of older people now report that the
one-eyed god is their principal com-
pany. This self-medication enhances
the disease. Research by economists at
the University of Milan suggests that
television helps to drive competitive
aspiration. It strongly reinforces the
income-happiness paradox: the fact
that, as national incomes rise, happi-
ness does not rise with them.
Aspiration, which increases with
income, ensures that the point of arrival,
of sustained satisfaction, retreats before
us. The researchers found that those who
watch a lot of television derive less satis-
faction from a given level of income than
those who watch only a little. Television
speeds up the hedonic treadmill, forc-
ing us to strive even harder to sustain
the same level of satisfaction. You have
only to think of the wall-to-wall auctions
on daytime TV, ‘Dragons’ Den’, ‘The
Apprentice’ and the myriad forms of
career-making competition the medium
celebrates, the generalised obsession
with fame and wealth, the pervasive
sense, in watching it, that life is some-
where other than where you are, to see
why this might be.
So what’s the point? What do we
gain from this war of all against all?
Competition drives growth, but growth
no longer makes us wealthier. Figures
published recently show that while the
income of company directors has risen
by more than a fifth, wages for the work-
force as a whole have fallen in real terms
over the past year. The bosses now earn
– sorry, I mean take – 120 times more
than the average full-time worker. (In
2000, it was 47 times). And even if com-
petition did make us richer, it would
make us no happier, as the satisfaction
derived from a rise in income would be
undermined by the aspirational impacts
of competition.
The top 1% now own 48% of global
wealth, but even they aren’t happy. A
survey by Boston College of people with
an average net worth of $78m found that
they too are assailed by anxiety, dissat-
isfaction and loneliness. Many of them
reported feeling financially insecure: to
reach safe ground, they believed, they
would need, on average, about 25%
more money. (And if they got it? They’d
doubtless need another 25%). One
respondent said he wouldn’t get there
until he had $1 billion in the bank.
For this we have ripped the natural
world apart, degraded our conditions
of life, surrendered our freedoms and
prospects of contentment to a com-
pulsive, atomising, joyless hedonism,
in which, having consumed all else, we
start to prey upon ourselves. For this we
have destroyed the essence of humanity:
our connectedness.
Yes, there are palliatives, clever and
delightful schemes like Men in Sheds
and Walking Football developed by
charities for isolated older people. But
if we are to break this cycle and come
together once more, we must confront
the world-eating, flesh-eating system
into which we have been forced.
Hobbes’s pre-social condition was a
myth. But we are now entering a post-
social condition our ancestors would
have believed impossible. Our lives are
becoming nasty, brutish and long. •
This article first appeared in
www.monbiot.com
Competition
drives growth,
but growth no
longer makes
us wealthier
“