Loneliness in America and the importance of greeting
In a recent post I talked about loneliness and old age. I pointed out then that loneliness is one of the great evils of our societies, but that in Spain it was not as serious as in other countries. It is true that I had read studies on this subject (not comparative ones) but this topic has special relevance for me after having lived a year and a half in the United States.
As it is a problem of capital importance throughout the entire life cycle, as well as in old age, it seems to me that it deserves a new space in this blog. The reflection this time is oriented on how social relations are and what effect this has on loneliness and how it impacts us.
While all societies have positive aspects (those that should have been emphasized by globalization, but we already know that it doesn't work that way) the issue of loneliness is a pressing problem in American society. It is a serious problem among the elderly (who, by the way, are much more invisible than they are in Spain and where they are expelled from public space with greater severity), but it is a wild problem among very young people. Loneliness also works as a catalyst for a series of other personal and social problems, such as the feeling of misunderstanding, for example, but also on the issue of identity. This is even more serious in a country where access to mental (and other) health services is denied to a large part of the population. I would like to clarify that my perceptions specifically refer to the reality that I have experienced in the New England area, and more specifically, Massachusetts, especially the Boston area and its surroundings, but the data on the impact of loneliness or the resulting mental problems on American society can be consulted. As a sociologist, I base my statements not only on my personal impressions (which are always biased, without us being able to avoid it) but on multiple conversations (questions, rather) with Spaniards and other Europeans, but also with other foreign and American researchers. I live with Americans, whom I thank for sharing their views and explanations on issues that surprised me (why not ask about health or family; why not greet in a small space; when a question becomes "too personal"). Nevertheless, and although this post may be criticized as subjective, loneliness is considered in the United States an epidemic that affects 47% of the adult population. In other words, it is an omnipresent reality in American society.
The trigger for the post, which has been going around in my head for some time, is a book I found recently, or rather, the dedication written in it. In areas near universities, gentrified by students who often move, it is common to find boxes carefully placed in front of houses with all kinds of things, new or practically new. The United States is, by far, a more consumerist society than Spain, where little is reused and where it is much cheaper to buy than to fix. What is expensive here is only what is important: the food, the doctor, the medicines. Returning to the subject: you find little boxes of "treasures" where you can find the book you wanted or a package of unused pens. A piece of furniture, a record, that which you never needed but which you always wanted. After finding "Evicted: poverty and profit in the American City" (so necessary to understand the American reality) I can't stop looking in these treasure boxes as soon as I see books. Well, right in front of my house I found a beautiful book, with a very nice binding, called "The language of recovery". It is a collection of motivational phrases from Moliere to Dekaa Chopra. On the back cover, a dedication: "Dear Gregory, Please allow the words in this book to help you since I can't be there with you. I love you more than you can imagine. Mom" (Dear Gregory, Please allow the words in this book to help you since I can't be there with you. I love you more than you can imagine. Mom). I was very impressed by the dedication.
We all went through hard times, of loss, of some existential anguish (right? Tell me that) but I suddenly became very worried about Gregory. Gregory's upset and his mother knows it. But Gregory lives in a society where talking about feelings can make you unwelcome as a roommate or alienate you from certain activities. The first case is possibly the most serious: to share a flat you have to be "selected" by the other tenants. First you send an email talking about yourself and, if you pass that first filter, you will have some personal interview (sometimes up to an hour). In two different flats, potential flatmates interviewed by different people received refusals. The reason? They talked about their feelings, which made other tenants vote against.
Whether or not to talk about feelings may not be as visible, but other issues flood in on a daily basis and have an even greater impact in the long term. One of the most basic issues is not saying hello. That very dark joke we make in Spain about neighbours who could not be murderers because they "always said hello" does not apply here: everyone could be. Waving is not usual. It is not in my area, where the houses are single-family, but neither is it in the buildings of many homes.
The first times I got into an elevator and no one answered my greeting, I felt terrible. Was it my accent? Didn't they understand me? No, it was violent. When I had the opportunity I asked an American about this question: "Of course you don't greet in the elevator. After you greet him, you are condemned to share that small space until you get off. And what do you talk about all that time?" It could be an isolated opinion, but it agrees with the lived reality and it is certainly an indication of how defensive bubbles are generated that make it difficult to interact with others in the way we consider normal in Spain (please; don't stop waving in the elevator).
Other situations are even more extreme, as I was told by some friends who do not get a greeting back in their lab. Every day I work with the same colleagues, with whom I talk about work issues, but who do not say good morning. When you say goodbye, it's the same thing. No, it doesn't happen with everyone, and yes, there are very nice people. If you ask for an address they will help you with kindness, but they will try not to cross a series of social barriers that I still find difficult to understand. This coexists with the formulation of small acts of sympathy or kindness, like telling you that your boots or your scarf is very pretty, but the conversation does not go from there.
The husband of a friend decided to repeat the good morning in the elevator of his building until some neighbor started to return the "Good morning". It is also not usual to smile at someone on the street, nor is it usual to talk to strangers on the bus. And the disappearance of these little conversations that seem superfluous has effects, which confirms that they are not so superfluous then. The first is the feeling of isolation, but also the feeling of disconnection from the people around us, of incomprehension or even of lack of meaning. In a recent study of 20,000 Americans over the age of 18, almost half of them said they felt lonely (40%) or excluded (47%). One in four (27%) said they did not feel understood, two in five (43%) felt their personal relationships were not meaningful and they felt isolated (43%). It is not only among older people: according to the study, those born after 1995 were the loneliest generation. The health effects are already known to be terrible: poor social connections are as bad for their health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day; it is worse than obesity, can increase the risk of death by 29% and inclines us to suffer from dementia, heart disease and depression.
In view of the data, the problems and the low quality of social relationships only reinforce our positive aspects. I am aware that interactions on the street, in the portal, in shops, are less and less common in Spain. But, I insist, the only way to fight against our own and other people's loneliness is... together.
