Over the last 40-50 years, human technical capability has progressed at a seemingly exponential rate. We enjoy economic wealth like never before and economic growth has progressed from predominantly agricultural and manufacturing sectors to services and knowledge. We have a dazzling array of amusements and entertainments at our disposal, from telephones smaller than a pack of cards than can do everything bar make us a cup of coffee, the choice of hundreds of television channels screened in high-definition digital quality and full surround sound, cars that look more like spacecraft, to computers smaller than a phonebook that connect us to the world. All things that probably our grandparents, living in a period dominated by global war and the escalating threat of nuclear Armageddon, would have scarcely imagined in their wildest dreams.
All this progress has come at a huge price. Apart from the self-perpetuating need to consume, an economic machine that continually urges us to upgrade and replace goods that barely last beyond their scanty warranty period and the environmental damage we've inflicted on our planet, a much overlooked cost is the decline of the social networks that served to provide us with perspective and meaning in our lives. We work harder and longer in jobs that are increasingly specialised and removed from face to face contact with our colleagues and customers. The 24/7 pace of modern life and double income families means that friends and relatives are often nothing more than a peripheral or even a conceptual part of our lives. We are becoming an increasingly insular society.
Is this a bad thing? Yes, I believe so. For starters, go back even thirty years and most people knew their neighbours. I certainly did. We knew everyone in our street, what they did for a living, the names of all their kids, what they got up to in their spare time (often things that we were probably better off not knowing!) and it was rare for anyone to have a party or barbeque and not invite their neighbours. It was a community in every sense of the word. People tended to look out for one another, mind pets and kids, have lengthy chats over a side fence or a cup of tea or coffee.
Kids tended to play together. In my case, there was always a game of cricket or football going and we seemed to keep out of mischief. Because our parents all knew each other, if anyone got up to any trouble, there would always be someone around to either dob them in or give the recalcitrant a stern talking to or a swift kick up the backside. Elders were respected and we would never dream of giving an adult lip. For many kids of the 1960s and 1970s, you didn't talk to an adult unless you were spoken to first. Without Playstations, Wiis or X-boxes, we always managed to find something to do and that never involved graffiti or vandalism. Thankfully, the age of hard and synthetic drugs was in the future and it was considered 'cool' or trendy to sneak a cigarette or a beer or two.
If you found yourself in trouble, there was always someone to talk to. And that wasn't just for the kids; it was for the parents too. I remember our next door neighbours in suburban Sydney spending many an evening talking to my parents about the problems their son had experienced in trying to adjust to life back in Australia after doing a couple of tours in Vietnam. My parents had both spent their early childhood in a Europe devastated by the Second World War and, while I don't know if they were able to help in a tangible way, the simple fact of being able to talk to someone would no doubt have assisted.
Even though I wasn't supposed to have heard this, I also remember one night when someone from further down the street came knocking at our door. It transpired that a young married couple was having a domestic violence issue. They had lost a son the year before in a car accident (seat belts at the time were not compulsory and he was thrown through the windscreen). The husband was driving at the time and blamed himself, then compounded the problem by turning to drink. His former amiable self was transformed by the demon drink into someone capable of hitting his wife. I understand that a few other doors were knocked on that night, with a posse formed to give the trouble-maker a 'talking to'. I'm not sure if there were more than words exchanged, but I do know from their other son that he never touched her again. A problem shared was a problem halved (or solved).
Fast forward more than thirty years and I couldn't tell you the names of my neighbours. No idea whatsoever what they do for a living, what their kids' names are (or if they even have kids). I rarely see them and on the few occasions I do, we might exchange a nod or a wave as we drive past each other on the way to work. We all do our own thing on the weekends and we are all effectively little islands dotting the landscape. There is the irony that the more people there are crowded into our city, the more isolated and alone we've become.
It is much the same at work. Technology means that we've become much specialised and often work long hours on our own. E-mail is the communication mode of choice and the days of going to see someone face to face or even to pick up a phone are rapidly disappearing. I daresay that if video phones or screens become commonplace, face to face communication will be a thing of the past.
With longer working hours, greater financial pressures and increasing demands on marriages and relationships, being able to talk to friends is more important than ever. It has been clinically proven that stress is a key factor in causing all manner of illnesses, from simple headaches and extended the duration and severity of colds and flu, through to chronic or fatal conditions, such as stroke, heart disease, and a variety of mental illnesses. Being able to talk to people, mostly friends who should know you well enough to be willing to tell it as they see it, is a bit of a pressure valve. Instead of bottling things inside (and yes, I am aware that it is mainly a guy thing and I'll admit to doing it myself on so many occasions that I've lost count), stewing over them and either making mountains out of molehills or reacting inappropriately, talking helps relieve the pressure and stress. It will often help you to realise or understand that perhaps things aren't as bad as you've perceived them to be or offer guidance or a solution to those issues.
Friends ground you in reality. Talking to those friends, particularly close friends who you can confide in an open and non-judgmental way, gives you a fresh perspective on things and can be the pressure release that is the difference between coping with problems and going off the deep end. Those kinds of friendships are hard to find though and once you do, I believe that you need to nurture them. In the frantic pace of everyday life, it is all too easy to fall into that introspective trap, eventually losing those friendships by allowing them to gradually drift away over time.
So make sure that you put the effort in to keep those friendships alive. One day you will be glad that you did.