A common affair

“A specter is haunting Europe” is how Marx opens the Communist Manifesto, drawing on the symbolic power of Shakespeare’s form. In Hamlet, more specifically, the ghost of the dead father is not exactly a harbinger of tragedy; it has the dimension of an unfulfilled duty with a need for righteousness. Marx used this symbolic weight to transfer this inner anxiety to the political arena, the specter of revolution that haunted the continent. The specter, as it was portrayed, was not a factor of terror – well, for some it was – but the symptom of a historical absence that demanded presence. Two centuries have passed since then, and another specter haunts us, not class-based but existential – it is not to be found in factories but above private living rooms, the specter of loneliness, diffuse and politically complicating. Europe is not haunted only by the revolution that did not come; it is haunted by proximity, which a democratic pluralism of citizen participation has led to frustration and social disintegration.

The theme of loneliness has inspired many artists, perhaps reaching its peak during the COVID quarantine, when Edward Hopper’s works became particularly relevant and popular, especially when one considers that in his world, loneliness is not a matter of “decline” but rather a natural state. The same cannot be said for the European phenomenon of loneliness, the once “private” issue has become public, an almost political plague, with governments measuring it like unemployment – with ministries and countermeasures such as “social prescribing,” the response itself testifying that the problem arises as a symptom of social dysfunction at the structural level and not at the atomic level.

Data from the European Research Center show that more than one-third of EU citizens feel isolated at least some of the time, while one in eight experiences chronic isolation. Looking at the qualitative characteristics of these figures, a pattern emerges: young people are more vulnerable, those who are financially insecure, and those who live alone experience greater intensity – a deeply political point – while it is emphasized that the more connected our societies have become through digitalization, the more fragile social bonds and trust have become. The pandemic itself, which seems far behind us now, created this contradiction; although it was a product of necessity, it created hyper-communication that essentially hid emotional distance.

A society of loners?

Politics can only begin with relationships, relationships that evolve through the perspective of collective ideological horizons and goals – in this regard, Europe seems to be losing ground. In addition to the emotionalization of politics, the lack of understanding, underrepresentation, and difficulty in participating in public life, loneliness is also a corrosive factor for democracy. Loneliness results in the adoption of an identity of disengagement in the political arena, with participation and trust declining dramatically and the sense of belonging as a connecting link seeming to collapse. – therefore, the less connected someone feels to society, the more they give up on common processes, with abstention being the most characteristic example, but also a feeling of powerlessness in influencing developments; The above leads to a psychological “depoliticization,” not as a result of indifference but of fatigue. At the same time, and as a reaction, social media offer a “safe” substitute for socialization, often leading to sterile radicalization and closed groups through a post-political communication of influence, acting as a lure to belonging, while the echo chamber confirms the correctness of these “ideological” relationships.

On the other hand, Alexander Langenkamp’s study is interesting, as he states that the relationship between loneliness and political action is not straightforward, arguing that people who experience intense loneliness may withdraw from forms of politics that require trust – such as voting, communicating with institutions, or participating in political parties, but may seek participation in more emotional or collective actions, such as demonstrations or movements that promise community. Politics, therefore, in the absence of social ties, is replaced by massiveness.

The problem with this argument, however, is that this need for identity leads to demagoguery and fruitless radicalization or to rational political violence (within the political system) that lacks the ideological depth the social ferment to express itself, to be supported, and ultimately further breaks down social bonds, reinforcing polarization. Populist rhetoric in Europe, from the right but also in its extreme manifestations, draws strength from this existential void, offering an imaginary community in an era of harsh social hierarchies and the constant production of “outcasts” – people who feel excluded from the system, but at the same time dependent on it.

Finding the commons

In order to survive, democracies need emotional infrastructures that will rebuild networks of trust, solidarity, and reciprocity, making people believe that “together” is not just rhetoric. These “emotional commons” are a central need of contemporary political thought. The European Commission and several member states have begun to address loneliness as a social indicator of well-being. The UK was the first to appoint a Minister for Loneliness in 2018, with Japan following suit. In Europe, the concept of “social prescribing,” the replacement of pharmaceutical intervention with activities, groups, and communities, is beginning to be institutionalized as a practice of public health and social cohesion.

In the Bertelsmann Stiftung’s GenNow: Einsamkeit in Europa survey, more than half of young people aged 18–35 say they often or occasionally feel lonely, with the main causes being financial insecurity, fragmented relationships, and the constant comparison imposed by digital culture – highlighting loneliness not simply as the absence of people around us, but also as the constant presence of an unstable condition that makes relationships fragile and short-lived. In this new landscape, the burden falls on local initiatives, citizen communities, care and cultural networks, promoting a model of social cohesion around communitarianism in an effort to reinvent the relational condition of political participation, filling or supplementing the gaps in the grand narrative

Together, apart

The specter of loneliness no longer hovers over Europe; it now dwells within it. Among other things, it is the result of an economic model that elevated individuality to its philosophical cornerstone and normalized atomism. It is paradoxical that the promise of freedom, even on the basis of Plato’s criterion for independence, “autonomy,” has become isolation, a dependence on oneself because collectivity is fragmented.

This atomistic obsession is not an ideological accident; on the contrary, it is a by-product of neoliberal normality, a model that deconstructs collectivity and shifts responsibility from ” we ” to “I.” Its psychosocial consequences are tangible: increased rates of loneliness in countries with weak welfare networks, social isolation as a by-product of insecurity, and mistrust as a new democratic ethos. No institutional architecture can stand without trust. In the end, democracies do not die from coups; they wither from indifference, and indifference is often just another name for loneliness. Europe must rebuild the spaces where people meet to coexist; the communities that regenerate “togetherness” without conditions. Just as Hamlet’s ghost sought to justify a past injustice, so too does the ghost of loneliness ask us to restore something that is missing: the right to coexist. Perhaps if Europe truly wishes to defend its democracy, it should remember that it begins not at the ballot box, but in the small-scale relationships of social and political life, naturalising the fact that life does not begin and end at the front door of our homes.

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