P.S. ...: How to win friends and isolate people

As modernity offers more opportunities to be socially integrated, people have never felt more alone. In 2004, the General Social Survey found that the number of Americans with no close friends has roughly tripled since 1985. Over a quarter of those surveyed reported having “zero” confidants, and the average number of people Americans feel they can talk to about important issues fell to only two.

Many psychologists cite technology as a source of isolation due to the fact that it “replaces” the need for human interaction. Yet, despite this, the market for shared technology (the Nintendo Switch for example) has grown alongside Netflix, social media and online or console gaming — things that are typically accused of exacerbating loneliness. In 2017, it was found that over half of gamers play with other people, including friends and family, while online gamers spend 6.5 hours a week playing with others they know.

Further, even gaming and entertainment platforms seem fixated on social interaction and crowdsourcing: In the past decade, games have begun to offer online forums, voice communication and group formation. Likewise, gamers were recently found to be more engaged in society, as gamers are far more likely to consider having friends important (57 percent vs. 35 percent for non-gamers) with nearly three-fourths (72 percent) saying that they game with their friends.

Other researchers have argued that with new technology, connection is too easy, leaving people bored or unable to make the emotional effort required for friendships and relationships. Yet this speculation seems to ignore that our extrovert-centric society unintentionally ostracizes lonely, friendless individuals, while praising the popular and the social.

So is the case that while we’re alone far less than often imagined, we’re still lonely? And what does this loneliness even mean? It appears that the business of "being social" is profitable, because almost parasitically, it grows as technology and overspecialization push us further into solitude. Having friends and “being social” have become just as profitable, and reflexively, just as insecure of a subject, as wealth, fitness or beauty.

Being "social" now exists as an upgrade to a game, rather than a spontaneous activity. Even the act of gaining “followers” and friends has become a (very profitable) game in itself, and this comes with consequences. With social media, the connection doesn't end at one's community or immediate peer group. And with the apparent ability to "connect" with anyone anytime anywhere, the act of being alone — or just not getting that text back — instead appears to be a sort of personal rejection, rather than merely the product of bad timing.

The problem with the business of being social is that friendship has been rewritten as a process of attaining, not preserving. Thus, the act of “being social” is linked more to public approval than personal satisfaction — the phrase “if you didn’t post it didn't happen” comes to mind. As our world gets bigger, but somehow more within reach, the desire to be liked and to remain relevant appears inextricably linked to our own identity.