I have been considering this daily while deliberately dipping a toe in and out of catastrophe-focused news headlines, and a semi-awareness of how my true-crime-skewed Netflix algorithm is both fed by, yet subtly nudging me towards a social weariness and vigilance.
A common situational thread I have noticed recently in my therapy work is a collective sense of disillusionment with people, and the concept of community. Given everything happening in the world, I’m not surprised.
I think some, but not all, of this experience sadly lies with UK geography: the social, health, economic, and political landscape, and how loud influential voices are singing from the ‘divide and conquer’ hymn sheet within or surrounding it.
Such things directly affect how cared for, threatened, and stressed people feel, so therefore how much capacity we have for connection and warmth beyond ‘our own’.
Other therapy discussions have highlighted how opportunities for community gathering and social interaction have been eroded through the loss, commercialisation, or digitisation of community spaces, such as churches, town halls, and wellbeing services.
This lead us to consider how realistic a wider sense of togetherness and connection beyond our inner circles truly is for many of us. Seeking it out where it barely exists can feel like swimming against a rip tide, or searching for a needle in a haystack. This is not a personal failing, however introverted you may feel.
Despite my natural scepticism, I’m not completely jaded or convinced (by the news, Netflix, past experiences, or otherwise) that we are generally any more misogynistic, racist, homicidal, warring, genocidal, machiavellian, predatory, sociopathic, narcissistic, or fascist than we have ever been throughout history.
There are plenty of examples of ancient societies where violent, brutal, and oppressive power structures were the norm rather than the exception.
However, I think modern progressive values and the advent of ideas such as human rights, national and international law, and social justice movements may have lulled us into believing that we were on the cusp of solving some of humanity’s most pervasive problems: achieving peace, and ensuring resources and safety, and for all.
Something I think we tend to underestimate is that those who hold power often seek more power. Capitalism, as a system, is built around competition and accumulation, and this can create conditions where those who are exploitative, predatory, or power-hungry, rather than simply ambitious, are able to gain significant influence.
Those people have always existed. Many occupy (and have historically) the upper echelons of our societies and our governing structures.
Culture trickles down from the top, flowing from those who hold the most power and influence. Money becomes one of the mechanisms through which power is exercised and maintained. Media, both social and traditional, become vehicles through which messages of hostility and intolerance travel, alongside incentives to buy in, literally or figuratively, to whatever commodity and narrative is being offered.
Perhaps my point is this: let’s not kid ourselves that we are so different now, when history and the current state of things shows perhaps we are not.
But equally, let’s not tar every neighbour and layperson with the same brush, nor locate blame where it does not fully belong. Accountability belongs, at least in part, with those who hold significant power and choose to use it in ways that harm rather than benefit humanity – furthering their own capitalist interests and messages which further them.
It is also important, and a relief to recognise that the normalisation of hostility does not make hostility acceptable, inevitable, or pleasant to live amongst.
I hold onto hope that an intergenerational response to fascism may take the form of a renewed commitment to progressive values, as societies and communities have often been historically shown to develop counter-movements in response to periods of injustice and regression.
Now, we can also notice and cherish the everyday moments of connection and genuine, uncommodified kindness too (like the lovely lady I chat to at the pool and the nice volunteer in the charity shop).
I try to train my algorithms, my attention, and my discernment towards safety, contentment,wholesomeness, and focus on the people and beings I love.
I still dip a toe into exposure to hostility, (and sometimes it’s sadly unavoidable) because staying informed matters, and because I want to challenge injustice in ways I have the capacity to engage with.
So what are the other possible answers to the quandary of community?
On a personal level, I’m still exploring these myself.
Popular advice like finding a ‘third place’ or a ‘tribe’ may not happen overnight. It may require trial and error and, perhaps more importantly, discernment.
It is okay to have standards and to have different levels of engagement depending on capacity and feelings of acceptance and safety.
I also think it has helped me to think differently about who my tribe actually is, rather than idealising it to fit the ‘Friends’ or ‘Frasier’ examples I grew up watching.
I’m still learning exactly what I need, but I am increasingly appreciating the people already in my life, even when I don’t see them all the time.
I have also learned to enjoy my own company out in the world, while extending kindness and warmth when my capacity allows, because I notice that often invites it back from others.
These small things keep me somewhat buoyant in these choppy seas of being human in today’s world.
© 2026 Lorraine Welch. All rights reserved
Related further reading
“Authoritarian leaders thrive on fear, we need to make people feel safe“
“Authoritarianism is making a comeback, Here’s the time-tested way to defeat it”
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“Naming the Reciprocal Roles of Britain’s Black and Minority Ethnic Communities“
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