The Friendship Recession: The Lost Art of Connecting
February 2025 Issue
Carolyn Bruckmann, Harvard Kennedy School MPP ‘25
The so-called “Friendship Recession” is making its way into the vernacular—a profound shift in how Americans experience and sustain friendships. The data paints a stark picture. According to the American Perspectives Survey, the percentage of U.S. adults who report having no close friends has quadrupled to 12% since 1990, while the percentage of those with ten or more close friends has fallen by nearly threefold. The foundations of the crisis were laid long before lockdowns. For decades, Americans consistently spent about 6.5 hours a week with friends. Then, between 2014 and 2019, that number plummeted to just four hours per week.
To be sure, systemic forces underlie this shift. Suburban sprawl has physically distanced us from one another. The government slowed down its investment in and construction of third spaces—such as community centers, parks, and coffee shops—which has left fewer places for organic social interactions. The rise of the gig economy and economic pressures have made free time a luxury. These factors have made friendship more difficult, and policymakers, urban planners, and venture capitalists are searching for solutions.
However, these structural forces alone can't fully account for the larger shift. If inaccessibility were the primary driver, we wouldn’t see relatively stable connection rates among older adults over the last several decades. If wealthier individuals have more access to communal spaces, why has solo dining increased by 29% in the past two years? If this were purely circumstantial, why would Stanford now offer Design for Healthy Friendships—a class dedicated to helping students structure their social lives with intention?
These trends point to something more insidious: a cultural crisis. As Anne Helen Petersen writes, “time for friends is a privilege, but it is also a matter of priorities.” The way we spend our time, whom we invest in, and what we prioritize is shifting. Solitude is becoming more than a preference—it’s becoming a default. And when not used well, the result of solitude isn’t just fewer friendships—it’s a fundamental loss of the ability to form and sustain them. If we don’t consciously reshape our priorities and re-learn how to cultivate meaningful relationships, we risk a future where connection—one of the most fundamental sources of happiness and well-being—fades into the background of our lives.
The cultural shift
Work has become a dominant social identity
It’s often said that if you ask an American what they do, they’ll tell you about their job, whereas a European might talk about their hobbies or passions. Data backs this up; U.S. workers put in an average of 1,799 hours per year, which is 182 more hours than the OECD country average. But the role of work in shaping identity and social life in the United States has perhaps never been stronger. For example, 77% of Americans work more than 40 hours per week, and few take their full paid leave. Pew Research suggests that the percentage of adults 65 and older who are employed has nearly doubled since 1987, rising from 11% to 19%.
These shifts are in part driven by broader economic forces. Higher cost of living and stagnating wages for low-and middle-income earners means that everyday Americans must work harder to keep up. However, these shifts also suggest a deeper cultural transformation may be occurring—one where the old American ethos of working hard and climbing the economic ladder has evolved into an all-consuming, identity-defining pursuit that leaves little room for much else. In a study of generational shifts in work values in the United States, researchers found that Americans are placing greater importance on intrinsic work values—such as having interesting jobs and work that helps others and society. Finding meaning in work (obviously) isn’t a problem per se. Yet when finding fulfillment in work comes at the expense of meaningful personal relationships, it becomes a problem—one that risks leaving individuals fulfilled in their careers but isolated in their personal lives.
The focus is increasingly on the nuclear family
As work has become increasingly all-encompassing, Americans have also doubled down on prioritizing their families—particularly their children—over friendships. One 2013 Pew Research study found that 49% of parents report spending more time with their kids than their own parents did, while 33% report spending the same amount of time, and 18% report spending less time. These trends reflect a cultural shift towards “intensive parenting.” A child’s achievements are an extension of their parents’ competence, which fuels an arms race of over-scheduling, constant supervision, and exhaustive emotional labor. This model of parenting leaves little room for adult friendships, as socializing is increasingly deprioritized in favor of ensuring one’s child “gets ahead”.
Beyond parenting, Americans in general are spending more time at home than in previous decades. A comprehensive study analyzing data from 2003 to 2022 found that the average time spent at home among American adults rose by 1 hour and 39 minutes per day. The trend is strongest among younger generations: 15- to 24-year-olds now spend over 2 additional hours per day at home compared to 2006. Data suggests that this extra time at home may not be going towards connection: the average time spent engaging with family members has dropped from 262 minutes per day in 2003 down to 243 minutes in 2019.
Simultaneously, Americans are spending less time engaged in activities and groups in their communities. The rate of volunteering has steeply declined since the early 2000s: some research suggests that while almost 30% of Americans reported volunteering in 2005, only 23% reported volunteering in 2021. The American Survey Center found that only 15% of Americans belong to neighborhood associations, and only 10% are members of a sports league. This decline in community involvement mirrors a broader shift away from organized religion: Pew Research suggests that the percentage of Americans who don’t identify with any faith has grown from 17% to 26% over a decade. These institutions were once the glue that held social networks together, places where friendships naturally formed through shared experiences.
Taken together, these trends suggest that Americans are increasingly retreating inward instead of engaging in communal activities. Friendship is no longer seen as an integral part of daily life, but rather something we squeeze in when all our other responsibilities have been met.
The rise of screen time and digital-only friendships
Needless to say, the rise of the internet and mobile phones has only accelerated this shift. Nearly 40% of Americans now have online-only friendships. Among teenagers, the trend is even more pronounced. Teenagers are spending only 40 minutes a day in person with friends outside of school hours, down from 140 minutes a day nearly two decades ago. On the other hand, teens are spending increasing amounts of time on devices. The average teen spent almost nine hours on daily screen time in 2021, up from seven hours in 2015.
This cultural shift would not matter if digital friendships were interchangeable with in-person friendships. But online friendships require a different set of social behaviors than in-person ones. Maintaining a friendship online relies on skills like crafting the perfect message, interpreting text-based interactions, and engaging in asynchronous exchanges with multiple people at once. In contrast, in-person friendships thrive on undivided attention, and are built through spontaneous moments, reading body language, and navigating the vulnerability of face-to-face connection. Some even suggest that young people, growing up immersed in digital interactions, are losing the opportunity to develop the in-person social skills that once defined deep human connection. As Derek Thompson writes, “a socially underdeveloped childhood leads to socially stunted adulthood.” In short, we’re building a generation of people who do not know, and may not have the ability, to tolerate the messy work of forming friendships. Research also suggests that digital interactions lead to weaker connections and lower senses of mental well-being. A recent study of nearly 13,000 adults over the age of 50 found that those who engaged in face-to-face interactions at least once a week experienced better physical and mental well-being, whereas communication through calls or texts did not have the same effect. Neuroscience helps us make sense of these findings. Research shows that hearing a familiar voice reduces cortisol and boosts oxytocin—hormones tied to stress relief and bonding—while text-based communication and video calls fail to trigger the same response. Without these biological cues, digital interactions can feel strangely empty, reinforcing isolation rather than alleviating it.
The neuropsychology behind why this cultural shift is dangerous
This cultural shift is particularly insidious because it’s not just changing our habits—it’s rewiring our brains. Forming friendships requires vulnerability, but loneliness makes that vulnerability harder to tolerate. Research by John Cacioppo found that loneliness fuels itself: when people feel isolated, they become more sensitive to social threats and more likely to misinterpret interactions negatively, through the lens of rejection.
This is important because, at a neurological level, social rejection doesn’t just hurt emotionally—it activates the amygdala, the brain’s threat detection center, and triggers the same neural pathways as physical pain. Over time, this makes socializing feel riskier, and to avoid that discomfort, we increasingly turn to psychological shortcuts. Digital interactions offer a sense of control: behind our screens, we can curate our self-presentation, sidestep awkward social cues, and get quick dopamine hits that create the illusion of connection. Given the way our brains are wired, we also gravitate toward the safest, most familiar spaces—choosing the comfort of home and close family over the unpredictability of community spaces and new relationships.
But these shortcuts and avoidances only deepen our isolation, creating a self-reinforcing cycle: the more we retreat from in-person connection, the harder it becomes, making digital interactions and solitude even more appealing.
The dynamic dance of culture change: What we need to do
It’s clear that something in our cultural fabric needs to change—what’s less clear is how to change it, given the dynamic dance of how culture is formed and sustained. Culture flows from the top-down—through funding that creates public spaces, zoning laws that make neighborhoods walkable, and labor policies that determine how much free time people can spend with friends—but also from the bottom-up, through the repeated choices of individuals. As Derek Thompson points out, the more people opt for convenience over community, the more businesses and institutions adapt to reinforce that behavior—solo dining increases, restaurants redesign for takeout, and social infrastructure crumbles. When enough people de-prioritize friendship, it doesn’t just affect their own lives; it shifts societal norms. This means that reversing the Friendship Recession requires action on both structural and individual levels. If we want to push back against the Friendship Recession—especially against its most visceral, burgeoning societal norms—we need to actively resist the forces that make solitude the default. The key lies in strengthening the two pillars of friendship: forming and sustaining connections. In what follows I’ll share what I’ve learned—from research and personal experience—on how to do this.
Forming friendship: embrace discomfort
Forming friendships requires taking risks, and discomfort is a natural part of risk-taking. But rather than being a deterrent, novel experiences and shared challenges can be the glue that binds friendships together. Research suggests that people who go through something hard together tend to view each other more positively afterward, deepening their connection.
I saw this firsthand in research I conducted while studying loneliness at Stanford’s Graduate School of Business (GSB) and the Harvard Kennedy School (HKS). I teamed up with a couple of classmates and hosted a Hot Ones Challenge, where a group of strangers sat down together to eat progressively spicier wings while answering personal questions. What started as mild discomfort quickly escalated into chaos—people sweating, laughing, and rolling on the floor in pain. But something else happened, too: by the end of the night, these strangers felt like a bonded group. The shared experience of struggling through something novel and slightly painful had created instant camaraderie.
A few weeks later, I found myself in a similar situation, but this time, in an Escape Room with a different group. The experience felt similar to the Hot Ones Challenge; by the end of the hour, we were high-fiving and laughing over inside jokes. Novelty equalizes—when we enter a new situation together, hierarchical social norms fall away, and a shared identity forms.
These experiences didn’t just happen by chance—I had to take the initiative to plan them, extend invitations, and show up, even though I didn’t know how they would turn out. But that’s exactly the point: forming friendships isn’t passive. It takes effort, a willingness to embrace uncertainty, and the courage to put yourself out there. And more often than not, the risk is worth it.
How can you do this in your own life? Below is a set of suggestions on ways to make forming friendships a priority:
Invite a group of people—ideally, these are individuals who share a mutual interest in forming lasting friendships or share a common goal. It doesn’t have to be a formal or serious group; the key is to gather people who are open to connection.
Choose an activity that allows the group to explore a new “frontier”, something unknown, together—this often involves working through a shared physical or intellectual challenge. The activity should be new enough to foster excitement and cooperation but not so intimidating that it deters participation. Consider solving an Escape Room, hosting a Hot Ones Challenge, organizing a team trivia night, or even creating a play where everyone contributes to the final production (research suggests that art is particularly helpful for healing a lonely brain). For folks more interested in physical challenges, consider organizing a group trekking adventure, creating an obstacle course, designing a race, or signing up for the myriad of these that exist already. The goal is to create an environment where everyone is learning and navigating something unfamiliar together.
Set the intention—clearly share the purpose or goal of the activity. People are more likely to invest in the experience if they know it’s about more than just the activity itself. Setting the tone makes the event feel purposeful and builds a foundation for deeper connections.
Slowly escalate disclosure—start with surface-level, lighter (even goofy) questions or conversations and gradually increase the depth of sharing as trust builds. If the activity has stages (like a trivia night with multiple rounds or a progressive dinner), introduce vulnerability through carefully chosen prompts. For example, early on, you might ask something fun and simple like, “Would you rather sit next to a crying baby or a snorer on a long bus ride?” Later, you might ask, “What’s something you’re proud of that most people don’t know about?” These layers of sharing encourage openness while respecting personal boundaries.
Sustainment: making friendship a priority
Forming friendships is only half the battle. Friendships thrive on ritual and repetition. As such, sustaining them requires intentional effort, particularly in a culture that prioritizes work and family over social ties. This means making active choices to spend time with friends—even when it feels inconvenient.
For a long time, I was reflective of the broader trends. I spent a lot of time forming one-on-one friendships in private settings—either at my place or theirs—rather than engaging in shared social spaces. I spent time texting long-distance friends instead of spending time in-person with friends co-located with me. As I started to learn about the broader cultural trends and the reinforcing psychology behind them, I started making shifts. I embedded myself in existing social structures and prioritized in-person social activities —ecstatic dance gatherings at the Harvard Divinity School, morning prayers at Memorial Church, and weekly workouts at the Harvard stadium with friends.
My sense of belonging shifted as I threw myself into these recurring activities. While these rituals didn’t provide the “new frontier” that I had uncovered as being crucial to forming friendships, they allowed for the consistency and commitment that cements friendships. This is not to say that one-on-one friendships are insufficient; but it is to say that we will lose the war if we don’t also lean into structured group activities and participating in the rituals and institutions that already exist. Below are some tips for what operationalizing this work can look like:
Immerse yourself in a local-based ritual that already exists—Weave is a great place to find opportunities (and understand the levels of social trust that do/don’t exist in your community).
Choose a set cadence for meeting—consistency is key. Whether it’s weekly, biweekly, or monthly, having a recurring meeting time reduces the “Will they/won’t they show up?” stress and creates a ritual everyone can rely on. Regular interactions can help deepen bonds by building familiarity and trust.
Choose the activity—select something that allows for synchrony or harmony, as research shows these shared experiences amplify feelings of connection.
Rinse and repeat—consistency doesn’t mean monotony. Rotate the hosting responsibilities or experiment with variations of the activity to keep things fresh. For example, if your group runs together weekly, add a themed run (like costumes or challenges) every so often. Or, if you have regular dinners, try hosting potlucks with rotating themes like “comfort food” or “childhood favorites.”
While these prescriptions might sound easy, the reality is that culture change is hard, and its effects aren’t seen overnight. It would be easier to scapegoat external forces, build yet another friend-finding app, and call it a day. While broader policy changes and social infrastructure certainly are needed and will help, we also must recognize that change starts with us. The small, daily choices we make—to reach out, to show up, to invest in relationships—add up to and actively shape the culture we live in. Imagine what could happen if we’re better, together.
Contributing editors:
Bryce Fuemmeler, Senior Research Associate, Leadership & Happiness Laboratory
Ryan Meachen, Associate Research Fellow, Leadership & Happiness Laboratory