Long before the first case of Covid-19 was reported in the UK, health officials warned of another epidemic sweeping the nation with serious consequences for our physical and mental health: loneliness. In 2017, a cross-party commission even declared that it was one of the “giant evils” of our time, leading Theresa May’s government to launch a campaign – including a Minister for Loneliness – to deal with the crisis.
But are we really more isolated than ever before? And if so, just how worried should we be about the long-term effects of lockdown?
Some answers come from David Vincent’s new book, which examines how our attitudes to being alone – physically and mentally – have changed over time. The breadth of his study is impressive, spanning everything from the Romantic poets’ passion for solitary walking to penal reform and the rise of spiritual retreats.
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One of Vincent’s key arguments is that solitude has largely been the privilege of the rich. Living in crowded households throughout much of history, working people have struggled to snatch private moments for personal reflection. When people did manage to enjoy time to themselves, it was mostly “abstracted solitude” – time in which they were surrounded by, but apart from, other people.
Increasing literacy from the 18th century on was a turning point. “Adults valued sitting with a book not only as a means of focused concentration,” Vincent writes, “but also as a sign to those around them that they wished to be left in peace. Literature created space in crowded households.”
This was the subject of intense moralising, with fears that people would spend too much time in their internal world and struggle to relate to society. (One book of mental disorders published in 1812 declared that reading novels could be “fatal” to the feminine mind.)
Today, we see the same hysteria around the time people spend playing computer games or staring at their phones. Technology may change, but consternation about other people’s “me time” appears to be a constant.
Vincent is refreshingly sceptical about the UK’s supposed “loneliness epidemic”: while it is possible to cherry-pick alarmist figures showing a rapid rise in loneliness, a more thorough analysis of the data suggests that the level of self-reported loneliness has not changed in six decades. If anything has grown, it is simply our anxiety about feeling lonely.
The evidence for some of the medical effects of loneliness fares a little better under scrutiny. Some studies suggest that having poor social connections may increase inflammation and vascular resistance, for instance, both of which contribute to the risk of heart disease. Once again, though, the effects are not so much the result of being alone as of feeling alone. Health isn’t determined by the size of your social network, but the quality of your relationships.
While more people live alone today, this is often a choice, born from economic freedom – a decision to enjoy independence and to avoid living with people who leave us feeling more alienated than when we are truly alone. And we should not underestimate the sense of connection that comes from long-distance communication – be it hand-written letters or Zoom calls. Vincent describes this as “networked solitude”.
Vincent’s fascinating study was written before Covid-19. But it is clear that humans have long struggled to balance solitude and sociality – and by putting our current plight in its historical perspective, this study can provide some comfort in our own isolation.
A History of Solitude by David Vincent is published by Polity (£25)
David Robson is the author of The Intelligence Trap: Revolutionise Your Thinking and Make Wiser Decisions (Hodder & Stoughton)