The Loneliness Economy
There is a growing body of research suggesting that the most connected generation in history may also be one of the loneliest.
This is not cultural nostalgia. It is a measurable shift.
Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt has argued that the rapid migration from what he calls a “play-based childhood” to a “phone-based childhood” altered adolescent development at scale.
Face-to-face interaction was replaced by screen-mediated social validation. Identity formation became increasingly tethered to metrics such as likes, comments, and followers, as opposed to shared physical experience.
MIT sociologist Sherry Turkle described the phenomenon years ago as being “alone together”: constantly connected, yet increasingly isolated. And psychologist Jean Twenge has documented marked increases in reported loneliness, anxiety, and depressive symptoms among younger generations in the years following widespread smartphone adoption.
The point is not to indict technology. Social media has unlocked extraordinary opportunity. It has democratised voice and accelerated entrepreneurship. Entire industries have been built in and around it.
But its architecture was optimised for attention, scale, engagement, and growth, with very little consideration for what the unintended consequences might be
And so we find ourselves in a paradoxical moment: we are surrounded by digital interaction, yet we crave proximity.
This is not simply a social issue. It is an economic one. Loneliness affects productivity, risk appetite, mental resilience, and community trust—all foundational ingredients of entrepreneurship.
As a publication that exists to explore the intersection of business, culture, and human potential, we cannot ignore this topic.
The question is no longer whether loneliness is rising and what its possible implications are for society. The question is who builds the counterweight.
Why South Africa May Be Well Placed to Respond
Globally, there has been a patient wait for a top-down solution from Silicon Valley. A feature update. A better moderation policy. A recalibration from the platforms themselves.
But large corporate entities are structurally difficult to redirect—particularly when meaningful change may conflict with shareholder incentives and revenue models.
South Africans are accustomed to navigating institutions so large, slow-moving, that meaningful, timely responses to emerging problems are far from guaranteed.
When infrastructure falters, we adapt. When systems stall, we build around them. We install inverters and drill boreholes. We form community patrol groups and stokvel savings circles. Informal transport networks emerge where formal systems fall short. Street committees organise clean‑ups, neighbourhood watches coordinate via WhatsApp, and township entrepreneurs set up shared Wi‑Fi hubs during load shedding.
They are practical, everyday responses to gaps in infrastructure.
Underpinning this instinct is a philosophy that predates any algorithm: Ubuntu—the idea that I am because we are.
It is the spirit of our country, and it has manifested repeatedly in our conversations with founders over the past year. From small‑business owners extending informal credit to neighbours, or leaders describing the networks that carried them through adversity, a consistent thread emerges: In South Africa, community is not digital, it’s analog.
In a recent conversation with Sed Pillay, the topic of loneliness surfaced not as a moral panic, but as a lived experience. When he relocated to the UK and found himself without an immediate social circle, he leveraged his online following to meet people in person—something that helped him settle into a new city far more quickly than he might have otherwise. The experience was illuminating.
He realised that access to connection had been amplified by his platform, and that most people do not have a global audience to draw from when they arrive somewhere new. That gap between digital visibility and real-world belonging ultimately led him to found Groops—an attempt to move beyond content and toward intentional, in‑person gatherings organised around shared interests and values.
His insight reframes the issue as a design challenge: if loneliness is partially the byproduct of systems optimised for attention, then belonging must be designed with equal intention—offline, in rooms, where sustainable connection can take root.
In our forthcoming Q&A with his sister and co-founder, Tee Pillay, we explore that design challenge more deeply.
Perhaps it is not surprising that experiments in rebuilding connection are emerging from a place accustomed to solving problems without waiting for permission.
And if belonging proves to be one of the defining challenges of the generations ahead, a country shaped by the idea that I am because we are, may have something valuable to contribute.
