Social Animal, Social Junkie: We Have Confused Survival with Performance.

 We call ourselves social animals. It is a phrase used everywhere.

If a person works alone, someone will advise them: "We are social animals. Go work with others." If a person is too focused on their hobbies, they are labeled anti-social. They are not social enough.

But what does social mean today?

We have taken to social media like fish to water. Because the name contains the word "social," we believe this is what true social life looks like. It means spending four or five hours a day on these websites. It means endless scrolling. It means stalking, liking, and commenting.

Then we ask ourselves the big questions: Why is loneliness an epidemic? Why are mental health issues growing? Why do we lack genuine relationships? Why do all our connections feel surface-level?

This is starkly visible in the younger generation. I observe my daughter, a high school sophomore, and her friends. A couple of her friendships are deep. The interactions there are real.

But the others are different. If they meet on the street, the initial reaction is loud. "Hiiii!" It is an explosion of simulated excitement. It sounds like two lost sisters have finally reunited.

After that initial burst, the conversation is completely flaccid. Nothing happens. They walk away and carry on with their lives. The chatter is mostly material. New shoes. Bubble tea. A new Hydroflask. Someone’s obsession with coffee. Or a particular guy in class.

We have completely ruined the meaning of being social.

The True Meaning of the Tribe

We used to live in tribes. This was not a choice. It was a requirement. It meant we were fundamentally interdependent.

No single person could do everything. One person could not grow the food, build the shelter, provide protection, and manage the tribe’s knowledge. The people within the tribe depended on each other for their very survival.

Imagine a small, functional community. The blacksmith needed the farmer for grain. The farmer needed the carpenter for the plow. The carpenter needed the weaver for clothes. This was the original barter system. Interdependence was the rule.

Where can we still see this? Look at a small Amish community. Look at specialized teams in military operations. Look at the intense collaboration required to launch a rocket. In these places, everyone in the system is important. A breakdown in one role means failure for all.

Even before the tribe, when we hunted in groups, we depended on the person next to us. Our life literally depended on their vigilance.

This is the origin of the true Social Animal. It means being deeply connected. It means depending on someone. It means taking responsibility for a crucial part of the shared survival.

The Great Disconnect

This original contract has been thrown out the window.

Today, we live in isolation. In most neighborhoods, we do not know the names of the people who live left, right, front, or back of us.

We have garages full of tools. Everyone owns their own set. Asking to borrow something from a neighbor is considered a big deal. It feels like an imposition.

This detachment is wonderful for companies. It helps them sell more. They sell every individual their own drill, their own ladder, their own snow blower. It even creates entire rental businesses, replacing the easy connection we once had with a simple transaction.

The same decay is visible at work.

Most networking events, especially in sales circles, are just about taking. How can I sell more? How can I maximize my advantage?

The core concept of giving and hence receiving is completely missing. Companies do not have time for deep connections. They demand monetization as soon as possible. Networking is transactional, not foundational.

We chase likes and followers. These are metrics of attention, not metrics of accountability. They give the shallow illusion of connection without demanding any of the effort, vulnerability, or interdependence required for a genuine relationship.

Building the New Community

The modern use of "social animal" is a lie.

It may be best to stop calling ourselves social animals entirely. Not unless we start going back to the roots of what made us great survivors: the ability to build communities.

We survived not because we could scroll or like, but because we could trust and depend.

If you seek less loneliness and more mental health, look past the screen. Recognize the 2 to 5 people in your life who actually show up. Focus your energy there. Do not just talk to them. Depend on them. Let them depend on you. Take responsibility for their well-being, and let them take responsibility for yours.

That mutual dependency is the engine of true community. It is the real contract of the social animal. The closer you get to that core, the less you will feel the need to seek validation in the endless noise of the non-social media world.