Thanks for posting your thoughts, Greg. I always look forward to hearing about and reading your perspectives on your experiences in China. I think I probably fall into the category of those who romanticize certain aspects of the culture, take what I see in the media with a healthy grain of salt, and recognize how important lived experience is to truly understanding a place.
This letter came at a funny time for me personally. While I’ve never been blind to the isolating and lonely aspects of American life—especially suburban Texas—as the son of Latin American immigrants, I’ve always longed for a stronger sense of community, both within my own family and beyond. I especially appreciate that you approach this topic with the attitude of, “Yes, every place has its issues, so let’s not get too utopian.” It reminds me that my own perspective is far from perfect, too.
Two things have happened recently that have me feeling a little more optimistic.
The first is golf. Yes, golf.
For many reasons, I avoided golf my entire life. I wanted nothing to do with it, the places it was played, or—if I’m being honest—the people I associated with it. About three months ago, my closest friend insisted I join his team for a charity scramble. I said no. He said yes. Eventually, I gave in.
Ironically, throughout my advertising career, I’d sponsored plenty of charity tournaments but rarely did much more than shake hands with the clients whose entry fees I paid before expensing them.
After the ninth hole, while laughing at how terrible we both were, I turned to him and asked, “Have you looked at your phone? Have you seen the news today?”
He paused for a second and said, “Man… I haven’t. This is great. I had no idea. Let’s keep doing this.”
Neither of us had.
It occurred to me later that it had probably been years since we’d asked each other, “How are you? How are things at home?” Golf wasn’t the point. It just gave us the excuse to slow down long enough to ask.
And we’ve continued exploring this new hobby… or obsession.
It’s not always easy to carve out time to play together (especially since I’m trying to do it on the cheap), but golf has also given me something unexpected: a shared interest with my father-in-law. You may know him—he’s a pretty good guy.
There’s something wonderful about being able to call him just to laugh about a round or talk about how badly one of us played. It closes the distance a little and gives me the simple joy of thinking, “Wouldn’t it be fun if we could all play a round over Thanksgiving?”
The second is the World Cup.
You know I’ve been a lifelong fútbol fan, and every four years I happily accept that the World Cup will become my least productive month.
What has surprised me, though, has been how heartening it’s been to watch people from all over the world come to Dallas and genuinely enjoy my city. It’s been wonderful seeing visitors not only appreciate the places themselves but also comment on how friendly people have been, despite arriving with more than a little skepticism.
Above all, it’s reminded me how meaningful it is to gather—even on a random weekday—with family, friends, and neighbors to watch a match.
For example, I live in a downtown Dallas neighborhood with a shared dog park. Spending incredibly casual evenings watching games with our Argentine neighbor has been such an unexpected gift. The remarkable part, I suppose, is that it feels remarkable at all.
She’s also an immigrant, although she came here at a young age and most of her family still lives abroad. It awakened something in my parents. I think they saw a little of themselves from 45 years ago and, almost instinctively, decided to embrace a stranger. She’s now become part of our extended family and will almost certainly be joining our twice-a-month drives out to my parents’ house, where we’ll share a meal, chat for hours, and watch our collective seven dogs run around the backyard.
Are golf and the World Cup the answer? Of course not.
Is simply saying, “Hey, want to come over and watch the game?” or “Want to hit the driving range tomorrow?” the answer? Probably not either.
But can those little invitations help push back, even a little, against the forces that leave us isolated? I think they can.
And in the meantime… let’s go Argentina. ¡Vamos Argentina! And let’s pray Peru or Chile qualify for 2030!
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Victor! I’m grateful for your reflections and that you are finding grace and peace even in simple things like golf and soccer. Even more powerful, in my opinion, is your habit of sharing a meal and having conversation every other week. We are built for community moments like that. They sustain us and give us hope.
Thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts and to reply. I’m thankful to call you my brother, even if your soccer team did beat England. Haha
1. I've not yet read the books you reference, but I've been meaning to ask after several of your (both Greg and Justin) letters -- and this is another reminder -- if you are familiar with Joseph Henrich's 2020 book "The WEIRDest People in the World"? (WEIRD being an acronym for Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic). Among its several theses, the book devotes a lot of attention to the early Catholic Church's "marriage and family program" putting a taboo on cousin marriage, with the effect of weakening kinship bonds and leading to European populations that were more amenable to forming marital, but also social, economic, political, and intellectual bonds with non-relatives. This is, of course, a gross oversimplification on my part. But it certainly has me thinking about a Western (and according to Henrich also specifically Christian) bias toward individualism playing a role in making us Westerners more prone to loneliness. It's not just smartphones (but I'm not arguing that smartphones don't contribute).
Anyway, I found it a very thought-provoking read (if a bit of a slog).
2. I think there is also a role being played by affluence. I think many Americans (especially), craving individuality and independence, see wealth as the means to achieve it. Wealth means being able to have a detached house in the suburbs (or exurbs if the suburban taxes get too high) without having to worry about possible quarrels with neighbors. To own a car rather than riding the bus with other people. To send kids to a private school (or exercise "school choice") rather than attending the neighborhood public school. To overeat on whatever our evolutionary heritage has programmed us to crave (i.e. more calories). In that sense, American loneliness may just be an inevitable side-effect for getting what we want.
And as China and elsewhere become more affluent themselves, will they follow that path, even if more slowly?
Thank you for such a thoughtful response. I always appreciate the way you connect ideas from different fields.
Yes—I am familiar with Henrich’s The WEIRDest People in the World, and I found it fascinating. I almost mentioned it in the letter, but it was already becoming longer than I intended. I think his argument about the Church’s marriage and family program unintentionally weakening kinship structures while simultaneously creating the conditions for impersonal trust, voluntary associations, markets, universities, and democratic institutions is one of the most original historical theses I’ve encountered in recent years. Whether every part of it holds up, I think he’s asking exactly the right questions.
In fact, I don’t think Henrich’s argument is in tension with Putnam’s so much as it is complementary. Henrich explains how the West became uniquely capable of forming associations beyond kinship, while Putnam documents the erosion of those very associations over the last half century. If Henrich is right, then what we’re losing isn’t merely friendship—we’re losing one of the defining achievements of Western civilization.
I also think your point about affluence is exactly right. Prosperity gives us the means to purchase independence, privacy, and convenience, but those same goods often come at the expense of shared life. The detached home, the private automobile, personalized entertainment, online shopping, even air conditioning—all are wonderful in themselves, yet together they steadily reduce the occasions in which we simply have to encounter our neighbors. We increasingly design our lives to eliminate friction, but in doing so we also eliminate many of the opportunities from which community emerges. The Amish understood this when they refused telephone lines as they came through their communities. They instinctively knew theologically that such convenience would break down critical face to face communication. Sometimes I think they were absolutely right!
Your final question is one I have been wrestling with myself. My fear is that the answer is yes. Even in Shanghai, I can already see younger generations becoming more immersed in smartphones, social media, and individualized entertainment than their parents or grandparents. The neighborhood life I described in my letter still exists, but I wonder how resilient it will prove as affluence continues to grow. It would not surprise me if China eventually follows a similar trajectory, though perhaps moderated by stronger cultural traditions and different political institutions.
In any case, thank you for pointing me back to Henrich. He deserves to be part of this conversation, and you’ve reminded me that I ought to revisit him.
Thanks for posting your thoughts, Greg. I always look forward to hearing about and reading your perspectives on your experiences in China. I think I probably fall into the category of those who romanticize certain aspects of the culture, take what I see in the media with a healthy grain of salt, and recognize how important lived experience is to truly understanding a place.
This letter came at a funny time for me personally. While I’ve never been blind to the isolating and lonely aspects of American life—especially suburban Texas—as the son of Latin American immigrants, I’ve always longed for a stronger sense of community, both within my own family and beyond. I especially appreciate that you approach this topic with the attitude of, “Yes, every place has its issues, so let’s not get too utopian.” It reminds me that my own perspective is far from perfect, too.
Two things have happened recently that have me feeling a little more optimistic.
The first is golf. Yes, golf.
For many reasons, I avoided golf my entire life. I wanted nothing to do with it, the places it was played, or—if I’m being honest—the people I associated with it. About three months ago, my closest friend insisted I join his team for a charity scramble. I said no. He said yes. Eventually, I gave in.
Ironically, throughout my advertising career, I’d sponsored plenty of charity tournaments but rarely did much more than shake hands with the clients whose entry fees I paid before expensing them.
After the ninth hole, while laughing at how terrible we both were, I turned to him and asked, “Have you looked at your phone? Have you seen the news today?”
He paused for a second and said, “Man… I haven’t. This is great. I had no idea. Let’s keep doing this.”
Neither of us had.
It occurred to me later that it had probably been years since we’d asked each other, “How are you? How are things at home?” Golf wasn’t the point. It just gave us the excuse to slow down long enough to ask.
And we’ve continued exploring this new hobby… or obsession.
It’s not always easy to carve out time to play together (especially since I’m trying to do it on the cheap), but golf has also given me something unexpected: a shared interest with my father-in-law. You may know him—he’s a pretty good guy.
There’s something wonderful about being able to call him just to laugh about a round or talk about how badly one of us played. It closes the distance a little and gives me the simple joy of thinking, “Wouldn’t it be fun if we could all play a round over Thanksgiving?”
The second is the World Cup.
You know I’ve been a lifelong fútbol fan, and every four years I happily accept that the World Cup will become my least productive month.
What has surprised me, though, has been how heartening it’s been to watch people from all over the world come to Dallas and genuinely enjoy my city. It’s been wonderful seeing visitors not only appreciate the places themselves but also comment on how friendly people have been, despite arriving with more than a little skepticism.
Above all, it’s reminded me how meaningful it is to gather—even on a random weekday—with family, friends, and neighbors to watch a match.
For example, I live in a downtown Dallas neighborhood with a shared dog park. Spending incredibly casual evenings watching games with our Argentine neighbor has been such an unexpected gift. The remarkable part, I suppose, is that it feels remarkable at all.
She’s also an immigrant, although she came here at a young age and most of her family still lives abroad. It awakened something in my parents. I think they saw a little of themselves from 45 years ago and, almost instinctively, decided to embrace a stranger. She’s now become part of our extended family and will almost certainly be joining our twice-a-month drives out to my parents’ house, where we’ll share a meal, chat for hours, and watch our collective seven dogs run around the backyard.
Are golf and the World Cup the answer? Of course not.
Is simply saying, “Hey, want to come over and watch the game?” or “Want to hit the driving range tomorrow?” the answer? Probably not either.
But can those little invitations help push back, even a little, against the forces that leave us isolated? I think they can.
And in the meantime… let’s go Argentina. ¡Vamos Argentina! And let’s pray Peru or Chile qualify for 2030!
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Victor! I’m grateful for your reflections and that you are finding grace and peace even in simple things like golf and soccer. Even more powerful, in my opinion, is your habit of sharing a meal and having conversation every other week. We are built for community moments like that. They sustain us and give us hope.
Thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts and to reply. I’m thankful to call you my brother, even if your soccer team did beat England. Haha
Two only slightly connected thoughts:
1. I've not yet read the books you reference, but I've been meaning to ask after several of your (both Greg and Justin) letters -- and this is another reminder -- if you are familiar with Joseph Henrich's 2020 book "The WEIRDest People in the World"? (WEIRD being an acronym for Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic). Among its several theses, the book devotes a lot of attention to the early Catholic Church's "marriage and family program" putting a taboo on cousin marriage, with the effect of weakening kinship bonds and leading to European populations that were more amenable to forming marital, but also social, economic, political, and intellectual bonds with non-relatives. This is, of course, a gross oversimplification on my part. But it certainly has me thinking about a Western (and according to Henrich also specifically Christian) bias toward individualism playing a role in making us Westerners more prone to loneliness. It's not just smartphones (but I'm not arguing that smartphones don't contribute).
Anyway, I found it a very thought-provoking read (if a bit of a slog).
2. I think there is also a role being played by affluence. I think many Americans (especially), craving individuality and independence, see wealth as the means to achieve it. Wealth means being able to have a detached house in the suburbs (or exurbs if the suburban taxes get too high) without having to worry about possible quarrels with neighbors. To own a car rather than riding the bus with other people. To send kids to a private school (or exercise "school choice") rather than attending the neighborhood public school. To overeat on whatever our evolutionary heritage has programmed us to crave (i.e. more calories). In that sense, American loneliness may just be an inevitable side-effect for getting what we want.
And as China and elsewhere become more affluent themselves, will they follow that path, even if more slowly?
Daniel,
Thank you for such a thoughtful response. I always appreciate the way you connect ideas from different fields.
Yes—I am familiar with Henrich’s The WEIRDest People in the World, and I found it fascinating. I almost mentioned it in the letter, but it was already becoming longer than I intended. I think his argument about the Church’s marriage and family program unintentionally weakening kinship structures while simultaneously creating the conditions for impersonal trust, voluntary associations, markets, universities, and democratic institutions is one of the most original historical theses I’ve encountered in recent years. Whether every part of it holds up, I think he’s asking exactly the right questions.
In fact, I don’t think Henrich’s argument is in tension with Putnam’s so much as it is complementary. Henrich explains how the West became uniquely capable of forming associations beyond kinship, while Putnam documents the erosion of those very associations over the last half century. If Henrich is right, then what we’re losing isn’t merely friendship—we’re losing one of the defining achievements of Western civilization.
I also think your point about affluence is exactly right. Prosperity gives us the means to purchase independence, privacy, and convenience, but those same goods often come at the expense of shared life. The detached home, the private automobile, personalized entertainment, online shopping, even air conditioning—all are wonderful in themselves, yet together they steadily reduce the occasions in which we simply have to encounter our neighbors. We increasingly design our lives to eliminate friction, but in doing so we also eliminate many of the opportunities from which community emerges. The Amish understood this when they refused telephone lines as they came through their communities. They instinctively knew theologically that such convenience would break down critical face to face communication. Sometimes I think they were absolutely right!
Your final question is one I have been wrestling with myself. My fear is that the answer is yes. Even in Shanghai, I can already see younger generations becoming more immersed in smartphones, social media, and individualized entertainment than their parents or grandparents. The neighborhood life I described in my letter still exists, but I wonder how resilient it will prove as affluence continues to grow. It would not surprise me if China eventually follows a similar trajectory, though perhaps moderated by stronger cultural traditions and different political institutions.
In any case, thank you for pointing me back to Henrich. He deserves to be part of this conversation, and you’ve reminded me that I ought to revisit him.