By: Julian Adorney, Mark Johnson and Geoff Laughton
Published: Jun 29, 2024
American communities have been systematically hollowed out over the past 50 years. In Bowling Alone, Harvard political scientist Robert Putnam makes an exhaustively-researched case that confirms what most people who lived through this period already know: community life is on the decline. For most of the first two centuries of American history, people were enmeshed in a dense web of civic associations. We bowled together, attended church, participated in Rotary Club meetings, and volunteered for local political groups together. We played bridge with our neighbors and gathered for regular book clubs.
This vibrant communal engagement fostered a deep-seated trust among neighbors. In 1964, a remarkable 77 percent of Americans agreed with the statement, “most people can be trusted.” But starting in the 1970s, the fabric of American society began to unravel. The strong community bonds that once unified us began to fray, one by one; and our social capital (Putnam’s term for the “connections among individuals—social networks and the norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness that arise from them”) has decreased dramatically.
For instance, Putnam notes that while the total number of national nonprofit associations more than doubled from 1968 to 1997, the average membership per association plummeted—from roughly 10,000 in 1962 to around 1,000 in 1988. This translates to an almost 80 percent decrease in the number of Americans involved with national nonprofits over three decades. Additionally, Putnam cites time diaries showing that in 1965, Americans spent an average of 3.7 hours per month in non-religious organizational activities, such as Key clubs, Rotary clubs, bowling leagues, and others. By 1995, that number had fallen to 2.3 hours per month.
It’s not just organizational ties that are being frayed; we’re spending less time with friends too. As Putnam notes, “In the mid-to late 1970s, according to the DDB Needham Life Style archive, the average American entertained friends at home about fourteen to fifteen times a year. By the late 1990s that figure had fallen to eight times per year, a decline of 45 percent in barely two decades.”
Since the publication of Bowling Alone in 2000, the societal disengagement Putnam described has gotten worse. The rise of social media and streaming services like Netflix are keeping us increasingly alone in our rooms, plugged in but disengaged from meaningful interaction with our fellow humans. A 2018 Adobe report focusing on the United Kingdom found that Millennials spend an average of 8.5 hours per day engaging with online content. For Generation Z, that number rises to an astounding 10.6 hours per day. When you account for hours spent sleeping, there is little time left for young people to engage in face-to-face community activities. Indeed, data show that they’re not engaging. In his book The Anxious Generation, social psychologist Jonathan Haidt notes that the percentage of middle- and high-school students who report meeting up with friends “almost every day” outside of school has fallen dramatically since the 1990s—a trend exacerbated by a global pandemic that confined everyone to their homes for two years.
What does the decline of community life since the 1970s have to do with rising illiberalism? As social animals, our sense of connection greatly influences our happiness. A study published in The Journal of Socio-Economics highlights just how essential community is for our well-being. This study surveyed 10,000 adults in England, examining the factors that make them happy or unhappy. Surprisingly, money didn’t seem to matter much. According to the authors, “Income only plays a small part in influencing our well-being.” Instead, a sense of community was paramount to participants’ happiness. In particular, having a single close friend was deemed as valuable as an additional $150,000 in yearly income.
In 2021, nearly half of Americans (49 percent) reported having three or fewer close friends, a significant drop from 27 percent in 1990. Maybe that’s why so many Americans are unhappy these days. According to Gallup’s 2024 World Happiness Report, America ranks 23rd in global happiness. An MSNBC report also notes that “Self-reported happiness in the U.S. has been on the decline for the past two decades.” Furthermore, 32.3 percent of American adults—and a stunning 49.9 percent of young people aged 18-24—suffer from anxiety or depression.
Could this widespread dissatisfaction with modern life be causing a shift away from liberalism? Data suggests it might be. A study published in the prestigious Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences titled “The rise and fall of rationality in language,” systematically analyzes the relative frequencies of emotional and rational words in massive databases of written language, from Google Books and the New York Times, from 1850 to 2019. Emotional words such as “angry,” “unexpected,” “embarrassed,” and “tortured” are contrasted with rational words like “indicate,” “area,” “program,” and “determine.” The study found that from 1850 to the 1980s, the relative proportion of emotional words consistently decreased, while rational words increased. However, starting in the 1980s, a reversal occurred; our discourse became more emotional and less rational. By 2019, the use of rationality-related words had declined to levels not seen in over a century.
What does this decline in rationality signify? The authors suggest that it might reflect a growing “disillusion with ‘the system.’” As they note, “rationality…helped build and defend the system” in which we all live. Thus, a move away from rationality might reflect our collective anger at the liberal social order that we think is making us lonely and disconnected.
The connection between social isolation and political illiberalism isn’t new; it has been well-established by social psychologists. As Haidt writes in The Righteous Mind, social connectedness serves as a bulwark against totalitarianism.
If people can’t satisfy their need for deep connection in other ways, they’ll be more receptive to a smooth-talking leader who urges them to renounce their lives of “selfish momentary pleasure” and follow him onward to “that purely spiritual existence” in which their value as human beings consists.
In contrast, “a nation that is full of hives [Haidt’s term for civic associations] is a nation of happy and satisfied people. It’s not a very promising target for takeover by a demagogue offering people meaning in exchange for their souls.”
Putnam argues that social isolation may fuel political extremism for a different but related reason: it puts us into echo chambers, which moves us politically towards the fringe.
When people lack connections to others, they are unable to test the veracity of their own views, whether in the give-and-take of casual conversation or in more formal deliberation. Without such an opportunity, people are more likely to be swayed by their worst impulses. It is no coincidence that random acts of violence, such as the 1999 spate of schoolyard shootings, tend to be committed by people identified, after the fact, as “loners.”
In other words, when we feel lonely, adrift, and unhappy, we may be more susceptible to the appeals of extremists on both the left and the right who promise community and utopia contingent on our willingness to overturn the existing social order.
So, if a decline in community life is fueling a demand for illiberalism, what can we do about it?
First, we can robustly and emphatically defend liberalism. We can clarify to people that their social malaise is a product of many factors unrelated to liberalism, and that abandoning a liberal social order is unlikely to alleviate it. We can peel back the curtain and reveal the realities of societies that have moved away from political, economic, and epistemic liberalism, demonstrating how these changes often worsen people’s lives. This is essential work, and we are indebted to the many great organizations and websites (including Reality’s Last Stand and New Discourses) that have been doing it.
But even as we articulate the benefits of liberalism, there is another approach we can simultaneously pursue: rebuilding the American community.
Putnam’s analysis is bleak, but he shares an essential silver lining: we have been here before. At the end of the 19th century, Americans faced many similar issues. Rapid industrialization had ushered in unprecedented material prosperity, but small towns and rural villages were being gutted. Increasingly, people found themselves lonely, adrift, and disengaged—but they recognized the problem and went to work. They founded churches, schools, clubs, and political organizations, sparking a social renaissance. Here’s how Putnam describes the “massive new structure of civic associations” that emerged as a result:
In the last decades of the nineteenth century Americans created and joined an unprecedented number of voluntary associations. Beginning in the 1870s and extending into the 1910s, new types of association multiplied, chapters of preexisting associations proliferated, and associations increasingly federated into state and national organizations. In Peoria and St. Louis, Boston and Boise and Bath and Bowling Green, Americans organized clubs and churches and lodges and veterans groups. Everywhere, from the great entrepôt metropolises to small towns in the heartland, the number of voluntary associations grew even faster than the rapidly growing population.
This civic renewal helped to knit the country back together. It rebuilt a new wave of civic associations to replace the ones that had been frayed or bulldozed by rising industrialization.
So, what if we did the same? What if our commitment to defending liberalism inspired us to look out and up, rather than merely down and in? What if we joined—or founded—PTAs, local churches, Rotary Clubs, and sporting leagues? What if we invited others in our community and networks to join with us, especially those who seem lonely and disaffected?
By fostering a civic renaissance, we could not only become happier and more connected; we could also address the root cause of illiberalism at its source.
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About the Authors
Julian Adorney is a columnist at Reality's Last Stand and the founder of Heal the West, a substack movement dedicated to preserving liberalism. He’s also a writer for the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism (FAIR). Find him on X: @Julian_Liberty.
Mark Johnson is a trusted advisor and executive coach at Pioneering Leadership and a facilitator and spiritual men's coach at The Undaunted Man. He has over 25 years of experience optimizing people and companies—he writes at The Undaunted Man’s Substack and Universal Principles.
Geoff is a Relationship Architect/Coach, multiple-International Best-Selling Author, Speaker, and Workshop Leader. He has spent the last twenty-six years coaching people world-wide, with a particular passion for supporting those in relationship, and helping men from all walks of life step up to their true potential. Along with Mark, he is a co-founder of The Undaunted Man.
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Not churches, but okay.