Introducing the latest in a dangerous line of counterfeit alternatives to true connection.
Introducing the latest in a dangerous line of counterfeit alternatives to true connection
W hile riding the New York City subway recently, I noticed something more disturbing than the typical knife-wielding schizophrenic or semiconscious drug addict. As usual, the walls of the train car were lined with advertisements. But unlike the garish promotions for clothing brands and constipation relief that usually haunt passengers, these posters were all the same clinical shade of metallic white.
The striking lack of color was a very appropriate choice for the product on display: the Friend pendant, an AI-powered necklace designed to serve as a portable companion for its wearer. Created by Avi Schiffmann, a Harvard dropout turned tech entrepreneur, the device listens to its user through a microphone and communicates via text messages and notifications. “Your new roommate is waiting,” reads a sinister promise on the company’s website.
In a recent interview, Schiffmann equated Friend with Ozempic, the “miracle” drug that allows its user to lose weight without the discipline of diet and exercise: “Ideally, everyone would run around in circles and eat their vegetables, but that’s not gonna happen. Ozempic fixes the problem.” In his view, the same principle applies to loneliness, which has become a public health epidemic in the United States. It will take immense effort to help our increasingly isolated population find meaningful connection, but Schiffmann believes that technology renders such exertion pointless. After all, going outside and attending a social function in the hopes of making a new friend can be draining and anxiety-inducing. Why bother when you could spend $129 on an accessory and never feel alone again?
The advertisements for Friend in my subway car promised a superior alternative to relationships with other humans. “I’ll never leave dirty dishes in the sink,” proclaimed one display in large black letters. “I’ll binge the entire series with you,” declared another. One of the posters had been vandalized with graffiti — the words “F*** AI” were frantically scribbled across it. This has become a common sight on the subway in recent months, as angry passengers have taken to defacing the omnipresent ads with slogans of their own. “AI would not care if you lived or died” is one of the less vulgar examples.
Schiffmann has remained sanguine in the face of this ridicule. He’s convinced that AI companions are the future of friendship and the rest of the world will soon catch up with him. But there’s little reason to share his optimism.
For years, Americans have become increasingly alone. Studies have revealed that roughly 20 percent of American adults feel lonely at least once a week, while a recent survey from the American Psychiatric Association found that more than 50 percent of adults feel isolated or deprived of companionship often or some of the time. The problem is particularly severe among young adults — nearly eight in ten Americans aged 18 to 24 report feelings of loneliness. Across the nation, people are living alone in record numbers, partying and socializing less, working remotely at growing rates, and eschewing romantic relationships and family formation.
The consequences of this trend are both deleterious and wide-ranging. On an individual level, loneliness is tied to a broad list of physical and mental ailments. Naturally, isolated Americans are more likely to experience depression and anxiety, but social withdrawal can also increase the risk of dementia, heart disease, stroke, and even premature death.
Beyond that, a lonely society is a dysfunctional society. Chronic disconnection produces deep malaise. Many Americans have sought to numb this pain with opiates; the prevalence of such drug use has caused deaths of despair to become widespread. Moreover, plummeting rates of marriage and romantic engagement are fueling the decline of America’s birth rate — an issue that will pose an existential threat if left unconfronted.
In today’s culture of telework, Netflix, and delivery apps, it is entirely possible to live a life of functional isolation. But the need for connection with other human beings is a fundamental aspect of our nature that cannot be escaped. As people increasingly retreat into self-sufficient cocoons — with the internet as their primary window to the outside world — they will naturally seek out new, virtual ways to fill that need. Yet cyberspace bears only a distorted resemblance to reality, and its alternatives to real-life interaction are little more than vehicles for unhappiness.
Social media platforms such as Facebook and Instagram, for instance, were first promoted as the ultimate tools for building and maintaining relationships, but their use only amplifies feelings of alienation. The same is true for online forums and messaging apps, which provide users with artificial communities where they can talk to others from around the world at any time with a few keyboard taps. But chatting with a legion of anonymous users from behind the deadening glow of a screen provides none of the nourishment of sharing the in-person company of friends. The dehumanizing nature of these platforms has even helped steer users toward extremism in the pursuit of genuine connection. AI chatbots, meanwhile, now swarm the internet, and many young people have turned to them for intimacy. Instead, in a growing number of cases, they have been encouraged to commit suicide.
Schiffmann’s AI “Friend” is simply the latest in a dangerous line of counterfeit alternatives to true connection. An ever-present AI companion might be able to offer vague words of affirmation, or an occasional piece of advice, but real relationships are defined by far deeper qualities than superficial sycophancy. When we spend time with friends, we find an outlet for our passions and interests and bond over the joy of shared laughter. We lay bare our deepest feelings and make sense of them through mutual honesty and vulnerability. Life isn’t simply more enjoyable when shared with others; its challenges are more easily navigated when we can approach them with the support, advice, and wisdom of a sturdy social circle. The central characteristics of friendship are uniquely human, and AI can only provide a hollow simulation of their beauty.
To solve the loneliness crisis, we must recommit ourselves to real-world friendships and resist the allure of shiny, synthetic alternatives. This, of course, is no simple task. For young people in particular, the world grows more digitized by the day, and almost every aspect of life has been commodified into some kind of app. Public policy alone cannot stop the spread of this sickness, and neither can the words of politicians. Americans will only find greater human connection if they force themselves to seek it out, whether that be through spending more time mingling at the local bar or pursuing a new hobby that’s conducive to meeting people. Through such cumulative effort, the threads of our social fabric can be repaired. The alternative is a slow withdrawal from all that makes real life worth living.