The dominant cultural narrative establishes a hierarchy of factors contributing to human well-being and prescribes a particular “norm”: social activity is not merely one possible source of happiness, but a measure of whether a life is truly fulfilling.
We are told that our need for belonging is so fundamental that, in Maslow's hierarchy, it comes immediately after the need for safety. An active social life is not only beneficial but supposedly essential to happiness and psychological health. And if you have no strong desire for relationships and would rather spend an evening alone than go to a party, this is already treated as a potential pathology.
You feel perfectly content without much social interaction? Psychology might suggest that you are repressing your need for intimacy or avoiding vulnerability. Perhaps you have an insecure attachment style. Or a social isolation schema. And, of course, some kind of trauma.
A philosophical perspective on solitude as a conscious choice offers a fundamentally different way of looking at things.
I have no doubt that love and friendship matter. But why is so little said about the fact that being comfortable in our own company is no less important to our well-being?
Not needing the company of others does not necessarily mean that something has gone wrong in one's social life. Quite the opposite. As Donald Winnicott wrote, “the capacity of the individual to be alone is one of the most important signs of maturity in emotional development.”
Philosophy has never regarded solitude or the conscious choice to be alone as a failure of social life. Seneca saw solitude as liberation from the distractions of everyday life. Montaigne wrote of the need to preserve an inner space that belongs to us alone. Nietzsche considered solitude a condition for freeing oneself from the influence of the crowd and creating one's own values.
The contemporary philosopher Philip Koch identified five distinct values of solitude: freedom of action, self-contact, attunement to nature, reflective distance, and creativity. Solitude is valuable in itself.
The problem is that few people are actually capable of being alone. A prisoner may serve a sentence in solitary confinement and yet be entirely incapable of experiencing genuine solitude. The physical absence of other people does not guarantee an encounter with oneself.
“All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone,” wrote Blaise Pascal. And Andrei Tarkovsky advised people to learn to enjoy their own company.
In an age of constant social connection, the art of solitude is becoming increasingly difficult to cultivate, and Tarkovsky's advice increasingly difficult to follow. The art of being alone stands in stark opposition to the pervasive noise celebrating the importance of connecting with others.
By declaring solitude an undesirable state, we have devalued an entire category of human goods that arise not between people, but in their absence. Many of our most important human needs have nothing to do with other people. For some, what matters far more is:
- The need to acquire knowledge and learn new things;
- The need for creative expression and the act of making something;
- Having a rich intellectual life;
- Exploring and understanding one's inner world;
- Connecting with nature and experiencing beauty.
These processes often flourish precisely in the absence of others, when we are alone with ourselves. Is it not a mistake to treat all of this as secondary — as something that becomes important only after the “real” need for interpersonal relationships has been satisfied?
For some people, the relationship with oneself, rather than relationships with others, is the primary source of structure and meaning in life.
And even if some degree of human interaction is necessary, why have we concluded that interpersonal relationships must be the central source of well-being, while solitude is treated as a deviation from the norm?
Time spent with others and time spent with oneself are two equally valid ways of being human. A universal recommendation to “spend more time with other people” is therefore just as questionable as a universal recommendation to spend all one's time alone.