There has been growing attention on how technology impacts young people, especially boys, with data showing that young men are falling behind in many areas and having fewer friendships than they did just a few years ago. I'm increasingly convinced that today’s man faces an unprecedented level of social and emotional isolation, and I’ve become deeply unsettled by how our everyday tools, designed for work and efficiency, are quietly eroding human connection.
Technology: The Powerful and Personal Double-Edged Sword
The mobile phone may be the most intimate piece of technology ever created. It goes with us everywhere. It’s carried in our pants pockets. It’s our portal to news, entertainment, work, dating, shopping, navigation, memories, and social interaction. But increasingly, it’s also our shield.
For many men, the phone has become a refuge from discomfort, vulnerability, and real-world engagement. It’s easier to scroll than to sit in silence. Easier to text than to talk. Easier to consume than to connect.
And now we’re layering AI on top of that. AI is a remarkable tool; I've been around enough to appreciate its power and potential. Make no mistake: in its current form, AI is a solitary tool—you prompt, it responds; you revise, it adapts. But beneath that simplicity, it deliberately replaces human roles – teachers, friends, librarians, experts and others – by offering a machine-driven, question-and-answer experience that mimics real interpersonal connection.
This kind of one-sided interaction may be efficient, even inspiring at times, but it's not a connection. It’s not a true relationship; it’s a pairing of data, knowledge, compute and software logic. And when paired with the addictive frictionlessness of mobile interfaces, it risks accelerating an already dangerous drift toward isolation.
The Gendered Silence Around Isolation
Men, in particular, are vulnerable here. We’re conditioned, often from a young age, to avoid emotional expression, to prize self-sufficiency, to dismiss our own need for companionship as weakness. Combine that with decades of technology promising self-service and autonomy, and you get a generation of men quietly, sometimes unknowingly, withdrawing from human contact.
And here's the irony: we’re communicating constantly. But the communications are thin, efficient, and transactional. Notifications ping. Messages are sent. Stars, emoji and likes left behind. But deep down, the bandwidth of our human experience, our thoughts, joy, grief, awkwardness, need for affirmation, goes underfed.
Reclaiming Connection
I believe it’s time we name this trend for what it is: a growing emotional and relational atrophy exacerbated by the very tools meant to connect us.
It’s time for men to unplug, not entirely, but intentionally.
We need to find ways to disconnect from our devices and reconnect with each other. In person. In groups. Around purpose, vulnerability, and shared experience. Conversations that don’t fit into 280 characters. Friendships that take time. Disagreements that require nuance. Support that can’t be auto-generated.
This also means engaging with women, not just romantically or transactionally, but as collaborators, friends, and fellow travelers in a world where emotional and social literacy is no longer optional. Women, in many ways, have built more resilient social networks amid tech’s disruptions. We have much to learn.
A Call to Intentionality
This isn’t an anti-tech screed. I still believe in what technology can do and all it can be. But I’ve also come to believe that we need to design not just better products, but better lives around them.
Men can, and must, step into this moment with intention. That means forming a weekly dinner group, taking long walks without a phone, building something together offline, or even reaching out to a friend without a calendar invite. It will feel awkward. It may be inefficient. But it will be real.
Humans aren't built for isolation, but if we're not paying attention, our devices and algorithms will subtly push us in that direction.
If you know someone—man or woman—who may be overly tech-tethered, especially to some form of AI, please consider forwarding this email to them. Or better yet, look them in the eye, ask them to leave their AI and phone behind, and invite them for a walk or a coffee.