A growing number of startups are seeking to profit from the pervasive issue of loneliness by offering a range of services and products designed to foster social connection. These ventures range from apps that pair strangers for activities to "friend-for-hire" services and elaborate weekend retreats, tapping into a market that has ballooned in recent years.
Academics who study loneliness, such as Julianne Holt-Lunstad of Brigham Young University and Noreena Hertz from University College London, have been approached by numerous entrepreneurs seeking to leverage their research for business models. Hertz, who coined the term "loneliness economy," has expressed skepticism about the viability and ethical underpinnings of many of these ventures.
"Of the many startups who’ve approached me... there hasn’t been one where I felt convinced by their business model," Hertz told Vox. She noted that while public attention to loneliness has increased, research does not consistently confirm an outright epidemic.
Commodifying Connection
The market for loneliness-related services has expanded significantly, offering solutions beyond traditional community engagement. Consumers can now access services like professional cuddling, coaching programs that cost thousands of dollars, or even AI-powered pendants designed to listen and respond. Coworking spaces marketed as loneliness antidotes and bootcamps for shyness also exist within this economy.
Sam Pressler, a fellow at the Harvard Human Flourishing Program, describes this trend as the "privatization of community," a shift from public gathering spaces to exclusive, often costly, private venues. This dynamic has been amplified by the COVID-19 pandemic, which heightened social isolation and public awareness of loneliness. A 2023 report from the U.S. Surgeon General further emphasized the issue, leading to discussions about a "male loneliness epidemic" and mental health challenges among various demographics.
Startups have responded by framing loneliness as a problem solvable through products. For instance, Adam Neumann's new real estate company aims to "solve loneliness" with substantial funding, and an AI-driven app called 222 raised $10 million to connect strangers for activities. However, users like Brian Choi, a participant in the 222 app, have found that while the platform facilitates initial meetings, it does not guarantee the development of lasting friendships. "It's dependent on individuals to be proactive about inviting folks into their lives after the event," Choi said, noting that this can be daunting for many.
Critiques of the Loneliness Economy
Concerns have been raised about the commodification of community, with content creator Zaid Khan observing that some "community" events promoted by influencers appear to serve the creator's brand, often come with a price tag, and tend to attract a narrow demographic. Hertz refers to this as "WeWashing," distinguishing it from genuine community building.
Experts like Holt-Lunstad caution that such services risk exacerbating existing inequities. Her research indicates that individuals with lower incomes or less formal education, who may stand to benefit most from social connection, often cannot afford expensive services or lack the time to participate. This can lead to spaces that are homogenous in terms of race, class, and ability.
"The ethical problem begins when a company intentionally exploits a consumer's loneliness, insecure attachment, or fear of missing out to pressure that person into purchasing," said Cindy Rippé, a marketing lecturer at the University of Georgia.
Relationships, by their nature, require time, consistency, and repeated interaction, qualities that are difficult to replicate in one-off paid events or virtual interactions. Holt-Lunstad likens the reliance on apps for social connection without genuine in-person engagement to feeling quenched but not drinking water – a superficial masking of a deeper need.
Furthermore, the loneliness economy often overlooks the internal and external barriers to forming connections, such as anxiety, fear of rejection, health limitations, cost, and time constraints. "It might be, that's a great program, but it's too far away, or that's a great program, but it costs too much," Holt-Lunstad noted.
Marketing efforts can capitalize on these vulnerabilities, leading consumers to purchase goods or services that do not address the root causes of their isolation. While shopping or engaging in paid social activities might provide a temporary sense of connection, experts emphasize that true fulfillment comes from repeated social interaction, familiarity, and a sense of belonging.
The Path Forward
The monetization of social needs presents a fundamental challenge: if these products are ineffective, consumers will cease to use them; if they are effective, users may no longer need to pay. Pressler argues that friendship and human connection are not commodities that can be easily advertised or priced.
While communal gatherings like concerts or activity-based groups can foster shared experiences, the distinction is crucial. Paying for a genuine craft night at a local shop, where participants bring their own supplies, differs from paying a fee for a one-off event organized by a startup.
Addressing loneliness requires a multifaceted approach beyond individual purchases. Experts suggest that government investment in public spaces, accessible community events, policies supporting dignified living, and a societal shift towards valuing slow, intentional relationship building are essential. As Hertz concluded, "The need is real. The purported solutions are many. Some of them I think can be part of the solution. Some of them may well end up making us lonelier as a society."