A provocative new wave of research is challenging a long-standing assumption: that living without friends is synonymous with loneliness and emotional distress. In a world shaped by social media, “connection” is celebrated as vital for human happiness, yet a recent study published in the Canadian Review of Sociology reveals a far more nuanced reality—some people with few or no friends are, in fact, content, even thriving in their solitude. This finding, highlighted by Psychology Today and echoed in multiple news reports and scholarly discussions, encourages Thai readers to critically reconsider both personal and cultural beliefs about friendship and fulfillment (Psychology Today; Wiley; CTV News Atlantic).
Why does this matter for Thai society? Thailand, like many cultures, places a high value on social harmony, group belonging, and community ties. Family gatherings and strong friendship circles are seen as a foundation for wellbeing. During festivals such as Songkran or Loy Krathong, collective celebrations emphasize interconnectedness. Yet, in an age of rapid urbanization and digitization, more Thais—especially in Bangkok and other major cities—find themselves living alone or feeling disconnected from traditional social networks. The COVID-19 pandemic has further intensified these trends, raising vital questions about the true relationship between social integration, happiness, and mental health (The Conversation).
At the heart of the recent research is an in-depth qualitative study by a Canadian research team, who interviewed 21 individuals aged 18 to 75 with varying experiences of friendlessness: some were students, others retirees, tradespeople, artists, or service workers. Participants ranged from those who once led vibrant social lives but withdrew over time, to those who consistently preferred the margins of social life. Contrary to popular belief, the researchers found a striking diversity of attitudes. For some, friendlessness did correspond to acute loneliness, confirming what recent global surveys—such as the World Health Organization’s findings on the health risks of social isolation—have previously shown. Yet for others, living without close friends was described not as a source of pain, but as a source of peace, autonomy, and self-actualization (WHO Loneliness and Social Isolation).
One of the most compelling aspects of this study is how it surfaces the stories of individuals who resist cultural narratives that frame friendlessness as a failure or tragedy. For example, a retired officer in his seventies, living without close friends, stated: “I’m my own best friend. I know I’m a good person … I have many hobbies. That other stuff—friendlessness—is on the back burner.” Similarly, a tradesman in his thirties, recovering from a difficult divorce, said, “Instead of trying to have people around me, I put my time into building skills or working on hobbies. Honestly, I think it made me a better person.” These perspectives illustrate that for some, friendlessness is not merely endured but actively chosen, aligning with goals of personal independence, creative pursuits, or emotional safety (Psychology Today).
The research also highlights the significant cultural pressure to maintain active friendships, especially during holidays, life milestones, and public celebrations. Participants described feeling judged or pitied for their friendless status, often having to defend or justify their life choices. This echoes the experience of many Thais who, particularly during family reunions or festive periods, may be asked intrusive questions about their social lives or marital status, sometimes leading to unnecessary shame or anxiety. This issue is especially relevant for older adults, young migrants who move to cities for work or study, or LGBTQ+ individuals whose friendship structures may differ from mainstream norms (The Conversation).
Expert perspectives add rich layers to this discussion. Social psychologist Dr. Mariana Bockarova, writing for Psychology Today, confirms that “Societal narratives often frame friendlessness as a kind of personal failing—a signal that someone is awkward, unlikeable, or unable to form relationships. But for some people, friendlessness is neither tragic nor temporary.” This view is echoed by other scholars who urge both policymakers and the public to make room for diverse life trajectories when designing mental health policy, social programs, or workplace diversity initiatives (Wiley; Harvard Graduate School of Education).
What are the specific implications for Thailand? Data from the Mental Health Department shows rising rates of reported loneliness, especially among the elderly and youth. The government and NGOs have responded by expanding mental health outreach and social support programs. However, these initiatives often treat friendlessness as a condition to be “fixed.” The new research suggests a more tailored approach: recognizing that for some, being friendless is a positive lifestyle choice, not a pathology. For example, a growing number of young Thai adults cite work, study, or caretaking responsibilities as reasons for limited friendships, yet may define their wellbeing through family, spiritual practice, or creative pursuits instead (Thai Mental Health Department).
Globally, epidemiological research confirms that social isolation can raise risks for poor health outcomes—including cardiovascular disease, depression, and premature mortality (Harvard GSE). However, as social scientists argue, loneliness is a subjective experience. Not all who are “alone” feel lonely. Cultural factors, including Buddhist teachings on mindfulness, non-attachment, and the value of solitude, may serve as vital protective factors for Thai people. In fact, traditional Thai society for centuries recognized and respected those who chose contemplative lives—monks, forest hermits, or artists—who found fulfillment outside conventional friendship networks.
Looking ahead, this line of research has powerful implications for education, urban planning, and mental health policy in Thailand. Schools and universities could foster a broader understanding of social wellbeing, teaching students to respect divergent pathways to happiness rather than promoting “one-size-fits-all” social integration. Urban planners may design spaces that support both communal gathering and authentic solitude—such as quiet parks, libraries, or meditation rooms. Mental health campaigns can recalibrate their messaging to suggest that friendship is valuable, but not universally essential, and that meaningful work, creativity, or family connection can be equally nourishing forms of support (WHO).
In conclusion, what should Thai readers take away from the new research? Most importantly: avoid snap judgments. Just as one should not assume that a person with many friends is happy, neither should one assume that a friendless individual is lonely or unfulfilled. Instead, acknowledge the diversity of human experience. If you find yourself alone and content, there’s no need for guilt or shame. If loneliness does become painful or chronic, seek out support from loved ones, community groups, or mental health professionals—but don’t be pressured by rigid cultural scripts. And when interacting with others, especially during social events or family gatherings, take care not to impose your own expectations. “Someone who appears ‘alone’ may be entirely at peace,” Dr. Bockarova reminds us—and that can be a life lesson of compassion just as relevant in Thailand as anywhere else.