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The Rise of the Tribe
Earlier this year, a man called Mauro Morandi died. His death made news around the world because he’d spent a large proportion of his adult life living completely alone, as a the guardian of a tiny island – Budelli, near Sardinia in the Mediterranean.
A few years ago, we all had the shared experience of increased isolation. For most of us the covid lockdowns weren’t quite at the Mauro Morandi extreme of living total isolation for more than 30 years. But many of us did get a taste of life with less face to face contact. During the first lockdown, in Spring 2020, more people worked from home than in a workplace, cutting off face to face contact not just with our colleagues but also with all the other people we would incidentally come into contact with – fellow commuters on the bus or train, the parking attendant, receptionists, people in the canteen or café.
Interactions with people we knew well, but didn’t live with, were transposed into digital facsimiles of real-world contact. Video calls and WhatsApp groups replaced ‘real world’ human interaction.
Since the pandemic ended, interest in isolation and loneliness has grown. The widespread reporting of the life and death of Mauro Morandi is one such example, but there are others.
Perhaps most prominently, at the start of this year the writer Derek Thompson published a long and well-evidenced piece in The Atlantic titled “The Anti-Social Century”. Thompson uses a variety of sources, including American Time Use surveys to argue, convincingly, that American lives are become more individual and less social. Less time is spent in ‘third places’ – typical, accessible destinations in the public realm (like parks, high streets) and retail and hospitality environments (shopping malls, bars, restaurants). The blame for this retreat to the private indoors is laid at the door of several culprits, most notably lack of investment in public spaces and technology – from TV to smartphones.
In our view, some of Thompson’s conclusions overlook two critical factors shaping behaviour change – factors likely to be as present in the US as in the UK.
The first is the pandemic. Some – by no means all – of the time series data that Thompson uses to illustrate the decline in socialising ends in 2021 or 2022 – when pandemic era fears (if not active constraints) on interaction were still very present.
The second is surging inflation, which makes out of home leisure much harder to afford.
However, there is much merit in Thompson’s observations about the decline of the structures of social interaction, building on the arguments that the political scientist Robert Putnam made in Bowling Alone in 2000. The US data confirms a steady, multi-decade decline in the kind of civic and social infrastructure that underpins many kinds of social interaction – parent-teacher associations, sports clubs, community groups.
Trajectory have Time Use data of our own. Using this, and other sources, we answer three questions in this essay:
In the UK, are we lonely, or are we simply spending more time alone?
What are the drivers of current shifts in behaviour?
What does this mean for interaction with society, community and each other?
In doing so, we identify a strengthening of our inner circles of family and friends, a decline in the looser relationship we have with the wider community and a new role for the most distant parts of our networks: the tribe.
Are we lonely, or alone?
Trajectory’s latest time use data (collected in June-July 2024) shows a clear increase in the proportion of our time we’re spending on our own. This is true both during the week and at the weekend: in both cases, the proportion of time we’re spending alone is 5% higher than the 2016 data.
That’s a small but significant increase; 5% equates to an extra 72mins a day spent on our own. It also means that we are now, on average, spending close to half of our time alone.
Time is finite and zero sum. We can’t add time to one behaviour or mode without taking it away from something else. In this case, the extra time spent alone is being taken from ‘other, non-household’ companions during the week (a 6% drop) and from ‘spouse/partner’ at the weekend (a 7% drop).
‘Other, non-household’ is a broad group, but in a weekday context mostly refers to colleagues. An increase in flexible and remote working is likely the biggest reason why we have extra time to ourselves during the working week. Digging deeper into the data, and looking at specific groups of people, the decline in time spent with one’s spouse at the weekend is driven by older groups.
Most groups are spending more time alone – but some much more than others, and some are bucking the trend entirely. Those spending less time on their own are those that live with a partner, those aged 25-34 and those with children at home. Across those three groups, there’s plenty of overlap.
The biggest increases in alone time are for a similar age group – just slightly younger. There is a dramatic increase in time spent alone during the week for those aged 18-24 and large increases for students and single person households. Again, there’s plenty of overlap here. Interestingly, the increase in the proportion of time spent alone among people in work (6.3%) is only moderately ahead of the average (5.1%). This suggests that while changing working patterns is a contributor to increased alone time, it’s unlikely to be the only one.
All in all, the data suggests that during the week, amid a moderate increase in time spent alone for the population as a whole there are two younger groups pulling in very different directions. Young adults in a family lifestage are spending less time by themselves, while young adults in a pre-family lifestage are spending more time on their own.
The pattern at the weekend is both similar and different.
Like the weekday data, there’s a 5% average increase which masks a range of changes, including some groups spending less time alone than in 2016. Here, though, the declines in time spent alone are among a slightly different cohort, 25-44s, rather than just 25-34s. This, combined with a very minor increase in time spent alone among 45-54s, creates a highly polarised pattern of weekend solitude. The youngest adults (18-24) are likely to be spending more time on their own, as are older adults. 55-64 year olds are spending 9.4% more time alone than 2016, and for 65+ the increase is twice that.
Overall, we’re unquestionably spending more time alone. This is broad based, but driven heavily by a younger, pre-family cohort both during the week and at the weekend and, at the weekends, by an older cohort.
But… are we lonely?
Not really. The government’s Community Life survey has been tracking loneliness in the UK each year since 2013 and although there has been an increase in that time, it is very small, from a low base.
In 2016 (when the first set of time use data analysed above was collected), 5% of UK adults said they felt lonely ‘often’ or ‘always’. But by 2024 (the latest data) that had increased to 7%.
A 2% increase is an unwelcome one. But it’s also a very minor one, particularly in the context of the significant increases in time spent alone. There’s also been no increase since 2019-20 – i.e. before the pandemic shut us indoors and accelerated flexible or remote working – so it seems unlikely that our post-Covid routines are driving the uptick in loneliness, even one this small.
The Community Life survey also provides encouraging data about the widespread strength of social bonds in the UK. The vast majority of adults (94%) agree that there are people who would be there for them if they needed. Almost as many (92%) agreed that if they wanted company there’s someone they could call. Even more (95%) said they had at least one person they could really count on to listen when they needed to talk.
There is no indication of a dramatic and damaging rise in loneliness in the UK. There is evidence that we are spending more time on our own. This doesn’t automatically equate to loneliness, or even anti-social behaviour, but it does mean we’re more atomised.
What’s driving atomisation?
Driver 1: The Changing Meaning of Age
The way we experience the life course is changing, with life events happening later than they used to.
Between 2008-2011 and 2019-2022, the average age of buying one’s first home increased by three years, the average age of becoming a mother increased by one year and the average age at marriage (first marriage, to someone of the opposite sex) increased by more than a year.
These are all life events that once, a few decades ago, typically happened in someone’s 20s and are now more likely to happen in someone’s 30s. At the other end of the scale, there’s also an upward drift in life events too. Average age at retirement has increased (by about half a year for men, and more than a year for women) and sixty-somethings are becoming grandparents several years later than they used to. H
appily, given that everything’s happening later in life, we’re also spending more time in it. Age at death has also rise, by about a year for both men and women.
In the space of a decade or more, these kinds of life event shifts are dramatic. This is having three profound impacts on adult life, with implications for isolation and atomisation.
1. The amount of time we spend in a ‘pre-family’ life stage is increasing. We form families – with or without children – later in life, meaning more time is spent in twenties singledom.
2. We’re having families later, and smaller families too. This means less time is spent in a family lifestage.
3. Retirement is extending, and what we expect from it is expanding. We’re less likely to think people are ‘old’ in their sixties or seventies.
More time single as a young adult means more time on our own. Becoming a parent later in life and having fewer children means less time in a busy household (where you might long for the solitude you once had). And that demographic change echoes through the life course – smaller families and more time in old age mean more isolated retirements, especially for people who separate from their partner or become widowed.
Driver 2: Deregulation of Life
Our routines are more individualised. A few decades ago, many of us followed similar daily patterns of activity – leaving the house at the same time, eating at the same time. But that’s broken down, and we’re more likely to march to the beat of our own drum. That’s a good thing – but can make it harder to connect.
This deregulation might be part of the reason why different groups are seeing different trends in who they’re spending time with.
Interestingly, those living with a partner are spending less time on their own during the week but more time on their own at the weekend. It’s unclear precisely what the cause of this is.
One possibility is that more flexibility in work creates asynchronous routines that leave less time for joint activities at the weekend. Another is that home working means that couples can spend more time together during the week – leaving the weekend free for other things. Regardless of the cause, this is a likely example of the deregulation of life – more flexibility in routines driving changes in where we are and who we’re with.
Driver 3: Shifts in Work
The most significant legacy of the pandemic, in terms of behaviour, is the acceleration and normalisation of flexible and remote working. Before covid, around 17% of the workforce (and 9% of people overall) primarily worked from home. By late 2024, that had increased to 23% of the workforce (and about 14% of people overall).
Although a small percentage, this increase accounts for millions of people. It also doesn’t include the large number of hybrid workers who might spend only a day or two per week at home.
This shift is likely behind the large declines in time spent with non-household members during the week, particularly among the working age population. A lot of that extra time is not spent on our own, however. Those in work have seen a small increase in the time spent with other members of their household, suggesting that time commuting or working is reallocated into time with family.
Driver 4: Digitalisation and on-demand
The delivery economy and digital entertainment means there’s less need to leave the house for restaurant quality food, the latest cinema releases or to socialise. Our Time Use enjoyment data still indicates that leisure’s better when it’s out of home, but staying in is a more viable alternative.
Analysing the time use data to explore where we are spending our time indicates that while we’re spending more time in typical third places than during the pandemic – hardly a surprise – we’re spending less time there than in 2016. The increased comfort of our homes and limitless availability of entertainment and leisure options is a likely driver of this.
Driver 5: Cost of living pressures
Another reason why we might be spending more time on our own – and more time indoors – is financial.
Amid other significant changes to our lives and lifestyles in recent years – the pandemic, shifts in the lifecourse and family formation, working from home and digital technology – we’ve so far overlooked one: the economy. Over the past few years inflation surged to heights consumers haven’t experienced for decades. Utility bills, housing costs and grocery prices rose sharply.
There are costs to spending time with people outside our household – is it possible we’ve simply been struggling to afford be social?
An exploration of the data suggests this is likely. Those earning more spend less time alone overall and the highest earners are likely to be spending less time on their own than in 2016. This correlates with findings from the US Time Use Survey, cited in The Anti-Social Century, which find that the group which has seen the lowest decline in in-person socialising since 2003 is the wealthiest quartile. When we have more money, we do more things. Recently, those with more money have been doing more of the things that put them in the orbit of others.
What does this mean?
The rise of the tribe and the decline of community
The levers of atomisation are not all being pulled in the same direction. As our time use data and wider trends analysis shows, some groups are spending less time alone, and for many there are simply changes in the types of people they spend time with. Immediate family, very close friends: yes. Colleagues, fellow commuters, casual acquaintances: no.
The data bears this out. There is ample evidence of our informal, casual relationships weakening, in ways that limit our exposure to different groups of people that might not otherwise be in our orbit. For example:
· The proportion of people who volunteer at least once a year has declined from 45% in 2013/14 to 28% in 2023/24, according to the Community Life survey. The same data shows a drop from 27% to 16% in those volunteering on a monthly basis.
· According to Sport England data, the proportion of adults with membership of a sports club declined from 25% to 22% between 2006 and 2016
· The number of people belonging to a trade union is currently 6.7m – just over half the all time peak in 1979, and a million less than in the 1990s.
· Membership of political parties is down on historical peaks. In the 1980s, more than a million people were members of the Conversative Party. Today, that’s a little over 100,000.
· Rates of civic participation are declining. This includes engagement in local democratic processes, such as attending public rallies or contacting elected officials. According to the Community Life survey, 39% of people took part in civic action in the year leading up to the 2013/14 survey. By 2023/24, that had fallen to 33%.
When we add these trends to other shifts in working from home, solo leisure and more insular behaviour patterns it suggests that our lives are getting smaller – or that we’re simply hunkering down, drawing close those already closest to us and shutting out those outside the inner circle.
But this might not be the full picture of our social interactions. As suggested in The Anti-Social Century, there’s a third category of relationship. This third category are more distant, and largely digitally connected. They comprise social media followers and people we follow, online communities of interest and people who share our political attitudes. If the first group (of close friends and family) might be called our inner circle, and the second group (of neighbours and associates) called our community then this third, largely digital group might be thought of as our tribe.
Based on the trends we’re currently seeing, the inner and outer networks – the inner circle and the tribe, as illustrated – are strengthened by current shifts at play. But the middle ring – community – is getting weaker.
This may or may not be a good thing. Or rather, it may have both positive and negative impacts. Stronger connections with one’s tribe might lead people to fall into networks that are dangerous or misleading. Conspiracy theories can spread easily among tribes and misinformation about, say, vaccines, climate change or the origin of the conflict in Ukraine can gain a powerful and committed audience. People who might be cowed by real life challenges to these beliefs can be reassured and reinforced by members of their tribe. You might not have many family members or friends with whom you can discuss your nascent support for an extremist political movement, but you’ll find them in your tribe.
At the same time, most tribes won’t be built around manipulation and deceit. A particular sport - or team – might not have much of a following in your local neighbourhood but it will have a committed one online, drawn from all corners of the earth. If you suffer from an uncommon medical condition finding local support or advice will be difficult, but it’s possible online. At a more universal level, cancelled TV shows can be rescued – as Brooklyn Nine-Nine was a few years ago – by a committed tribe of fans who convinced the network to overlook low TV ratings and consider the secondary audience potential.
Whatever your mileage on the merits or demerits of a strengthening tribe, the weakening of the community is likely a negative. In The Anti-Social Century Thompson makes the point (expanding on Putnam’s observations) that stronger community ties weaken political polarisation. It’s easy to think of examples of how this might work in practice. Your neighbour might post messages on the local Facebook group that you vehemently disagree with – about council or government priorities, about our relationship with the EU, about the conflict in the Middle East. But if you find yourself volunteering on the same community or charity project as them, those political differences can be contextualised by a shared commitment to another cause. You may even start to appreciate their point of view – or at least, why they hold it.
It’s also important not to write off community just yet. In fact, there’s plenty of evidence that although active participation in community or civic activity is falling, our attitude to it is still warm.
The Community Life Survey is again an invaluable barometer here. The proportion of people in England who feel they belong ‘strongly’ or ‘fairly strongly’ to their neighbourhood is high, and even higher now (61% in 2023/24) than a decade ago (58%).
Other indicators aren’t quite so positive, but still indicate a depth of community feeling. Only 41% of people agree that ‘many people in their neighbourhood can be trusted’ – down from 48% in 2013/14 – but as a trust metric this is still higher than levels of trust in media sources, politicians and businesses. There’s also a widespread degree of satisfaction in one’s neighbourhood. LGA polling in Oct 2024 found that 74% of people were satisfied with their local area as a place to live. This too is in decline, from 84% a decade earlier and a high of 87% in June 2020.
Individual > Social
The current network map – with the tribe and inner circle strengthening while the community weakens – underscores the rise of the individual.
Our interactions with our tribes are individualised. And even the time we spend with our families and in our households is becoming more insular. There’s a zero-sum game here. The more time we spend at home, the less time we can spend out of it. There are several examples of how the balance between the household (private, individual) and the non-household (public, collective) is shifting.
One is home-schooling. This is still rare, but growing and likely accelerated by the pandemic. Between autumn 2022 and autumn 2024 the number of children being educated at home rose from 81,000 to 112,000 (or from 1% of the school population to 1.4%). Ofsted have also suggested that school closures during the pandemic and increased home-working may be changing the perception of school as a non-negotiable – with Fridays becoming particularly problematic for attendance.
Another is film windowing. Previously, the only way to enjoy a film release was to go to the cinema. You might go alone or with friends but the consumption of films was public and social. Major releases would only be available in cinemas for a year after release, after which they worked their way slowly through layers of rental and subscription channels. That process is now much faster, or completely disrupted. Major studio productions are either launched straight to SVOD or have a limited theatrical release, in order to qualify for awards.
In many ways, this is a good thing – more films are more accessible at a lower cost of entry to more people. And big releases – as the summer of Barbenheimer demonstrate – still get people to the big screen. But is indicative of how the balance of power has shifted – away from the public and collective and toward the private and individual.
New Opportunities
These shifts in our behaviour close the door on some activities but open a window on others. Many represent commercial opportunities. The on demand economy has its downsides, but one undoubted benefit is providing an additional revenue stream to hospitality and leisure businesses that might otherwise have found the last few years to be fatal.
There are other, discrete opportunities from our changing routines. Couples shifting the time they spend together from the weekend to the week means different activities on weekday – more scope for meals out, or out of home leisure – and more time for other, perhaps solo, pursuits at the weekends. Some of these might even be strengthening to the declining community tier – like membership of sports clubs, hobbies, volunteering or civic participation. In many working households the big time dividend in recent years has been realised not from working less, but from no longer commuting. If this time can be put towards other activities, the shift will be positive.
Another shift with immediate commercial benefits is the rise of new day parts. The breakfast out is one such post-pandemic example. In 2016, a tiny proportion of the UK population – 0.4% - were eating out at 8am during the week. By 2024, that had quadrupled to 1.8%. While still a small percentage, this is an increase of hundreds of thousands of adults. It’s not surprise that in this context breakfast has become a new hospitality battleground for the likes of Wetherspoons, McDonalds and Greggs.
The depressogenic society
Finally, although it’s rare, untreated loneliness is bad for us. In fact, historically, loneliness has been a trigger for us to act. We feel isolated and alone, so we make plans to go and see people, or do something. In The Anti-Social Century, Thompson argues that that isn’t happening – although, as we’d contest, there’s no real evidence that loneliness is prevalent or increasing either.
One thing that is prevalent is depression. In the UK, more than half of economically inactive people due to long term sickness report that they have depression. Globally, 12bn working days are lost each year to depression. As we’ve recently explored, it seems probable that we are coming to live in a depressogenic society (i.e. one that can lead to or maintain depression). Such a society is characterised by inequality, isolation, social comparison and oppression.
When looking at time use data, it’s easy to see where people are and who they’re with. The findings here indicate an increase in time spent alone. The easy – and as we’ve argued here – incorrect conclusion is to conclude that they’re lonely. A more accurate conclusion might be that, for many, depression is a bigger driver of behaviour.
More than this
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