Digital connections are fostering in-person community.
Civil society—the bedrock of American democracy—requires people to participate in groups and work in collaboration.
For much of our history, Americans’ propensity to join voluntary associations was one of our most distinctive characteristics. Funnily enough, it took a non-American, Alexis de Tocqueville, to eloquently articulate this communitarian ethos. In his famous work, Democracy in America, Tocqueville looks at Americans almost in bewilderment; a people without a strong centralized state practicing subsidiarity was nearly unthinkable.
Fast forward to 2025, and civic America looks to be in a sorry state: we are anxious, atomized, and asocial. As authors such as Robert Putnam, Alan Ehrenhalt, Bill Schambra, and Amatai Etzioni have documented through the decades, Americans since the mid-twentieth century have been in retreat from civic life. We have shied away from active political participation and club membership and have opted instead for time alone watching Netflix and ordering Uber Eats.
Young people, however, are demonstrating that they do in fact desire social connection. In an article for Business Insider, Sydney Bradley writes that there has been a surge in social media apps designed to tackle atomization.
Bradley explains that, while traditional social media apps like Facebook and Twitter have marketed themselves as tools to facilitate togetherness by connecting you with your friends, they have, instead, made users feel “less connected and more alone than ever.”
Rather than help connect us in any meaningful way—no, “liking” memes does not count as meaningful social connection—most social media has enwrapped us in our own tailor-made internet silos. All of us, myself included, have found ourselves ensconced in our devices, scrolling our media feeds endlessly. In fact, there’s even a word for this now: doomscrolling. Ever find yourself mindlessly scrolling though your Instagram feed, looking at story after story for hours on end? If so, you might be a doomscroller.
That said, the emptiness and lack of fulfillment that one feels after using these aforementioned apps has led to a craving for social media that actually leads to in-person interaction.
Apps like Partiful, a fun and user-friendly tool designed to promote events and collect RSVPs, have become rather commonplace among young people looking to organize their own gatherings. What’s great about apps like Partiful (and Luma, another similar app) is their ease of use and accessibility.
A while back, a friend of mine told me about a book club she had been organizing using Partiful. The invitation looked so good, I figured she must have paid someone to do it professionally. But no, all it took was a free app and a little creativity. This was an example of an app leading to real social capital. Pretty incredible.
Also new on the scene is Timeleft, a rather unusual app that connects you with five complete strangers for Wednesday dinner. By putting you in touch with people you otherwise probably would never meet, Timeleft creates “safe moments to interact with people around you so that you can be more involved with the world you live in.” The app first prompts you to take a personality test. The algorithm then takes those results and pairs you with others who are like-minded. Afterwards, the app books a restaurant for the group. Though it originated in Europe, Timeleft is already starting to make waves in the States.
And, as I wrote for National Review, young people are even turning to Bumble BFF for platonic friendship: “Young people are swiping right with no intention of hooking up. Rather, they just want to escape the sadness of their studio apartments.”
There is a real yearning—especially among young people, having grown up in the digital age—for community and in-person social connection. This trend of IRL social apps is, undoubtedly, very encouraging. It shows us that people are discontent with a me-centric culture that hyperfixates on individual autonomy and fundamentally neglects social capital. Thankfully, though, the marketplace tells us that there is a high demand for a return to community.
