Showing posts with label technology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label technology. Show all posts

The American Dream needs a factory reset

Mike's Notes

An interesting solution to the housing problem. Shows what is possible if there were the will.

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Last Updated

19/02/2026

The American Dream needs a factory reset

By: Stephen McBride
Rational Optimist Society: 18/01/2026

Rational Optimist Society - Founder.

Housing’s “iPhone moment”

In today’s diary:

  • Expensive homes = fewer new families
  • Where most housing innovators fail
  • How Tesla’s “tent hack” solves housing
  • Factories that update like an iPhone
  • Build your home like The Sims—in 30 days

Dear Rational Optimist,

I have a friend back in Ireland named Zach.

Zach is a mechanic with his own business. He grinds and does everything right. Yet every night he walks past the main house and goes to sleep in a log cabin in his girlfriend’s parents’ backyard.

Now his girlfriend is pregnant with their first child. They’re about to bring a new life into the world, and they don’t have a place to put the crib.

I have another friend in New York City, the founder of a promising, high-growth startup. He’s crushing it but lives in a Manhattan one-bedroom apartment with his wife and daughter. They want another baby but can’t afford the extra bedroom.

Studies show rising housing costs explain roughly half of the fertility decline in America between 2000 and 2020.

That’s millions of kids who were never born because the rent was too high.

Having kids is a vote of confidence in the future. It’s the ultimate act of optimism. We’re pricing people out of that optimism.

We know the solution: Build. More. Housing. Yet we’re building homes today slower than we did in 1971.

Over the last decade venture capitalists incinerated billions of dollars betting on startups that promised to fix housing. They all failed.

But I think I’ve finally found…

The Henry Ford of housing.

Before we meet this company, let’s visit the graveyard of failed housing startups. There are many headstones.

A few years ago housing disruptor Katerra raised $2 billion to build “gigafactories” for homes. It wanted to mass-produce homes on an assembly line like iPhones, ship them nationwide, and snap them together on-site.

We build cars in factories, so why not houses? It sounded inevitable.

Katerra went bust in 2021. It stepped on two booby traps which killed almost every would-be housing disruptor.

Booby trap No. 1: shipping air.

When you build finished rooms in a factory and ship them, you’re shipping floors, walls, and ceilings. You’re essentially paying to ship empty boxes of air.

This eats up every penny saved by the factory efficiency.

Booby trap No. 2: cash incinerator.

Giant factories cost a lot of money to build. To make the math work they must run at near-full capacity.

But housing is boom-and-bust. When the market dips (it always does), the factory doesn’t stop costing money and turns into a cash incinerator. Katerra built cathedrals of manufacturing requiring perfect economic weather to survive. When it started raining, it drowned.

Then there’s the deadliest booby trap of all.

The US government tried to build houses in factories…

1969 was a great year for the optimists. America put a man on the moon and Concorde flew its first supersonic voyage.

It was also the year of Operation Breakthrough, the US government’s experiment to industrialize housing. The goal was to fund mass-producible building systems and construct 25,000 modern homes.

It was a total disaster. They built fewer than 3,000 units before shutting down.

Uncle Sam failed to account for local governments.

Factories work when they build the exact same thing, over and over. You can’t do that with homes because there are 26,000 towns and cities with different building codes.

It’s like trying to mass-produce a car, but every town has its own rules about where the brake pedal and steering wheel should go.

We’ve been trying to build houses like cars for a century. But houses aren’t cars. They’re legal projects, financial products, and custom assemblies rolled into one.

Malcom’s box

Malcom McLean was a North Carolina truck driver with an idea.

Create steel containers that could neatly and quickly stack on ships, trains, and trucks. The shipping container was born!

On a spring morning in 1956, McLean’s refitted oil tanker left Newark carrying 58 identical steel boxes. That was the day global trade got rewired.

The cost of shipping fell by more than 90% over the following years. Those steel boxes became the universal language of trade, easily swappable across ships, trains, and trucks. Every global brand you know—Nike, Walmart, Apple—owes its business model to McLean’s steel box enabling global trade.

What McLean did for shipping, Cuby Technologies is doing for housing.

“What’s in the box?”

If you’re a Dune superfan like me, you know the scene.

"What's in the box" Dune quote image

Ask that question to Cuby co-founder Aleks Gampel and he won’t respond “pain.” He’ll say, “Everything you need to build a new home in just 30 days.”

Cuby doesn’t build houses. It builds the factories that build houses.

It took an entire automotive-grade production line—robotics, CNC machines, welding stations—and packed it into approximately 122 shipping containers.

Cuby’s product is the Mobile Micro-Factory (MMFTM). It’s a standardized, portable factory that turns homebuilding into a predictable manufacturing process.

When Tesla hit “production hell” in Fremont, it couldn’t get permission to build a new facility fast enough. So Elon put up a massive tent in the parking lot. Because it was a “temporary structure,” he bypassed the zoning nightmare and saved the company.

Cuby takes Tesla’s tent hack to the next level:


Cuby lean-tos image
Source: Cuby

If you build a factory, you need permits and years of approvals. Cuby figured out how to snap 122 shipping containers together and be classified as one giant “machine.”

This hack allows Cuby to stand up an MMF, capable of pumping out 200 homes per year, in just 30 days.

MMFs are compact enough to slot into a mall parking lot. You inflate a massive, pressurized dome. Inside the dome the shipping containers open up to become a fully functioning housing factory:


Cuby housing factory interior image
Source: Cuby

Cuby’s other co-founder, Aleh Kandrashou, walked me (virtually) through its test facility in Eastern Europe to see how an MMF works.

Cuby broke the construction process down into 35 different departments. Walk past one container and inside is a dedicated welding robot fusing steel foundations. Move to the next container, and it’s a specialized paint booth coating the exterior panels.

The containers snap together to form a conveyor belt that takes raw materials—steel coils, glass, resin—and spits out a complete “kit of parts” to build a home:


Cuby conveyor belt image
Source: Cuby

Every stud, pipe, wire, and floorboard needed for a specific house is flat-packed.

Cuby = affordable homes.

Cuby’s target cost is $100 to $110 per square foot. That’s far cheaper than traditional builders that spend $150 to $300+ per square foot depending on location.

Aleks stressed to me Cuby is relentlessly focused on costs: “Tesla launched with the expensive Roadster to fund the cheap Model 3. You can’t do that in housing. If you are a Roadster on day 1, you die.”

“If Jesus came back today the only job he’d recognize is a…”

Carpenter. That was Aleh’s humorous way to describe the lack of innovation in housing.

It’s not for lack of trying. As I mentioned, startups have been trying to disrupt housing for a century.

Cuby has “last-mover advantage.” It designed the MMF specifically to disarm the three booby traps that killed its predecessors.

Shipping air.

Katerra built big whole rooms and shipped them to the site. Cuby ships the factory to near where the house will be built.

Cash incinerator.

A Cuby factory costs 10% as much as a normal factory. It only needs to build 70 homes a year to make money.

Best of all, it’s mobile. If the housing market in Phoenix cools, you can pack the 122 containers and move them to Dallas, where demand is hot.

Cuby doesn’t build homes. It builds the factory that builds the home, which is another safety buffer. It enters into joint ventures with local developers that put up the $10 million to build the factory. Cuby doesn’t deploy the machine until the demand is guaranteed.

Regulatory camouflage.

Cuby’s factories produce a kit of parts that follows International Building Code specifications. With small tweaks they are compliant with America’s 26,000 jurisdictions.

Aleh told me its first US test home in Michigan had zero permitting issues. The home was built under 60 working days at 30% to 40% below local contractor quotes!

To a building inspector, a Cuby home looks like a normal house, just built with unusually high precision:


Cuby home example image
Source: Cuby

Cuby is basically…

A software company wrapped in steel

As an ROS member you know all about the physical innovation famine.

For 50 years progress was trapped in a narrow cone of software, apps and the web. That’s why your phone is a supercomputer, but your house is still built like it’s 1925.

Now that cone is widening into the physical world. Cuby manually mapped out the 10,000 steps required to build a house from scratch. It filmed every process, wrote code for every action, and built it into a system called “FactoryOS.”

This is Cuby’s secret sauce. It’s LEGO instructions on steroids.

FactoryOS spits out 3D instructions for every single screw in the house. It’s built on Unreal Engine, the same video game engine used for Fortnite. These digital guides allow even an idiot like me who struggles to assemble an IKEA desk to build a house.

The software also acts as a relentless quality control manager. For example, it won’t let a worker move to the next step until the AI visually confirms the last step is perfect.

There’s a reason I call Cuby “the Henry Ford for homes.”

Before Ford pioneered the assembly line, building cars relied heavily on highly skilled craftsmen. Ford’s innovations simplified the process and drastically reduced build time. Cuby’s software does the same for homes.

Its digitally guided microtask system atomizes assembly. Four workers (in two shifts) can go from foundation through finishes in roughly 45–60 days. Cuby plans to drive this under 30 days.

We need to talk about toilet paper

Cuby clocked 1 million engineering hours designing its Mobile Micro-Factories, kit of parts, and software. That obsession shows up in strange places, like the bathroom.

When Cuby ships MMF extension units to a site (which are like self-contained command centers equipped with Starlink, workstations, lockers, hot showers, and every tool the crew needs), it packs the exact number of toilet paper rolls needed for four workers for the specific duration of the build.

That precision planning defines Cuby. If a worker finishes a task but a specific wrench isn’t back in its slot, the AI recognizes it. The software won’t let him finish his working day until he finds it. No delays due to missing tools:


Cuby workspace image
Source: Cuby

To avoid “shipping air,” the software calculates the volume of empty space in a container down to the cubic inch. It will delay ordering small parts (like door hinges) until they can perfectly fill the gaps in a shipment of larger materials. Tetris for supply chains.

But my favorite feature is how the factories improve themselves.

We all know about Tesla’s over-the-air updates. Back in 2017 when Hurricane Irma was hurtling toward Florida, Tesla remotely unlocked extra battery range for owners fleeing the storm. With the flick of a switch, the car got better.

Cuby does the same for factories. If a crew in Nevada finds a faster way to install a window, that process update is pushed to every Cuby factory worldwide instantly. Factories now update like your iPhone.

Ultimately the only thing that matters is: Can Cuby build homes faster and cheaper?

Yes. Labor accounts for roughly 70% of the cost of building a home, depending on location. Cuby’s FactoryOS aims to slash that by over 80%.

Today a traditional construction crew burns about 450 minutes of human sweat to finish a single square foot of a house. Cuby does the exact same work in 50 minutes.

A traditional builder needs over 15,000 hours of labor to go from foundation to move-in ready for a standard 2,000-square-foot family home. Cuby crosses the same finish line in just 1,659 hours. It’s building the same house with one-ninth the human effort.

This allows Cuby to pump out more affordable homes while not compromising on quality. Its houses come with steel framing and triple-pane windows, typically luxuries in the US.

On the desert outskirts of Las Vegas…

Cuby’s first US Mobile Micro-Factory is going up. It’s scheduled to pump out homes this fall for a local developer building 3,300 units. I can’t wait to visit.

But one factory won’t solve the housing crisis.

That’s why Cuby stood up a “papa factory” in China. This is the machine that builds the machines. Its job is to mass-produce the 122-container Mobile Micro-Factories.

Next year the papa factory will pump out four MMFs. The year after, 8 to 12. The exponential curve is starting now.

Talk to Aleh for five minutes and you realize he’s a serial inventor. He walked me through a dozen patented technologies, from the “magnetic skin” that lets you swap a home’s exterior like a phone case, to the pressurized factory dome that inflates like a tennis bubble.

And Cuby’s ultimate invention is, to quote Aleks, “a universal manufacturing engine that scales to whatever the world needs next. We’re already working on military barracks, data centers, and contractor garages.”

Housing is arguably the most broken industry in the world, with tough competition from healthcare and education. It’s a gigantic market that affects us all.

High housing costs mean fewer kids. It also warps politics as people feel locked out. Just look at NYC voting in a communist mayor!

If Cuby wins, the payoff is civilization-scale. I asked Aleks and Aleh for their vision:

“A 25-year-old schoolteacher in North Carolina no longer spends her weekends touring open houses she can’t afford. She opens an app to design her house like she’s playing The Sims.

You can drag and drop rooms, see the exact cost update in real-time, push a button to see available plots and finally click order. The MMF gets to work, and she moves in one month later.”

Aleks ended with: “We want to build more homes than anyone else on earth.”

If Cuby succeeds it has a shot at rebuilding the American Dream.

What future would you build if you could have a cheap, custom house by next month? Let me know in the comments below. And remember to click “like” and “restack” to help us spread rational optimism.

—Stephen McBride

Scrolling Alone

Mike's Notes

A growing problem in society. The misuse of cloud software is contributing to the problem because of the moral values of its owners: making money at any human cost. This excellent article is copied from After Babel. The original article is full of links.

Resources

References

  • Bowling Alone by Robert Putman.

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Last Updated

12/02/2026

Scrolling Alone

By: Andrew Trousdale and Erik Larson
After Babel: 03/02/2026

Andrew Trousdale: I'm a researcher and designer. My initiatives and projects bridge positive psychology, human-computer interaction, and the creative arts. I run the nonprofit research initiative APOSSIBLE.

Erik J Larson: Author of The Myth of Artificial Intelligence. I write about the limits of technology and the tension between tech and human flourishing.

A brief history of the trade-off between convenience and connection in America

Intro by Zach Rausch:

The Anxious Generation is best understood as a three-act tragedy. Act I begins in the mid-20th century, when new social and entertainment technologies (e.g., air conditioning and television) set in motion a long, gradual collapse of local community. Act II begins in the 1980s, as the loss of local community weakened social trust and helped erode the play-based childhood. Act III begins in the early 2010s, with the arrival of the phone-based childhood that filled the vacuum left behind.

This post, written by Andrew Trousdale and Erik Larson, goes deep into Act I. Andrew is a psychology researcher and human-computer interaction designer who is co-running a project on the psychological tradeoffs of progress. Erik is the author of The Myth of Artificial Intelligence, writes the Substack Colligo, and is completing the MIT Press book Augmented Human Intelligence: Being Human in an Age of AI, due in 2026. Together, they show how the isolation we experience today did not begin with smartphones but began decades earlier, as Americans, often for good and understandable reasons, traded connection for convenience, and place-based relationships for privacy and control.

Tracing these trade-offs across the twentieth century, Andrew and Erik help explain the problem of loneliness we face today, and offer some guidance for how we can turn it around and reconnect with our neighbors. Robert Putnam, who read a recent draft, described it as “easily the best, most comprehensive, and most persuasive piece on the contemporary social capital conundrum I’ve yet read.”

— Zach

Scrolling Alone

By Andrew Trousdale and Erik Larson

Americans today accumulate hundreds, even thousands, of Facebook “friends” and Instagram followers. Yet 35% report having less than three close friends and 17% report having none. A quarter of Americans lack social and emotional support. We’re supposedly more connected than ever, but according to the Surgeon General we are facing an epidemic of loneliness and isolation.

It’s tempting to believe that smartphones and social media were introduced to an ideal society and ruined everything. But the social problems we face today — while linked to contemporary digital technologies — are deeper and more nuanced than that. They originated from 20th century technological and cultural forces that also brought extraordinary benefits. It is only by looking back at these benefits that we can see today’s social problems clearly: as the result of trade-offs we have, for decades, been willing to make.

The post-war period in America was a time of enormous economic progress. Between 1947 and 1970, median family income doubled and home ownership soared. This expansion of the middle class brought with it a growing orientation toward mass comfort and convenience as the measure of everyday progress. The dream of labor-saving technology wasn’t new, but the postwar boom made it newly attainable for millions. Innovations like dishwashers, TVs, air conditioning, and remote controls flooded American homes. The Jetsons — with its push-button meals and moving sidewalks — captured an emerging vision for how technology would make life better.

These technologies did free up time, save money, reduce drudgery, and give us more control over our environments. But, as Robert Putnam first posited in his groundbreaking book Bowling Alone, they also disentangled us from one another — eliminating norms and shared experiences that, however effortful, also provided connection. As we grew accustomed to privacy, efficiency, and ease, maintaining our social lives and communities increasingly became a hassle. Independence replaced interdependence. After more than 70 years of making this trade-off, this is the culture we inherited and participate in daily.

The Convenience vs Connection Trade-off

In 1997, John Lambert received a kidney from Andy Boschma, a fellow bowler from his Tuesday night league in Kalamazoo, Michigan. They weren’t relatives. They weren’t even close friends. They just bowled together once a week and that was enough. Putnam opens Bowling Alone with this story because it captures what we’ve been losing: the kind of trust where casual friends would give you a kidney.

Stories like Lambert and Boschma’s emerged from a world of regular, low-stakes, in-person interaction. In 1964, 55% of Americans believed “most people can be trusted.” As Putnam recounts, the average adult belonged to about two organizations. Family dinners were nightly rituals for half of Americans. Dropping by a neighbor’s house unannounced was normal. This was, by Putnam’s measures, the high-water mark of American civic life.

By 2000, when Putnam published Bowling Alone, that world was already disappearing. Trust had fallen to around 30%. Organizational membership fell sharply. He shows that by the 1990s, Americans were joining organizations at just one-quarter the rate they had in the 1960s, and community meeting attendance had dropped by a third. Hosting friends at home fell by 35%.

Four Decades of Dwindling Trust, 1960-1999

Figure 1. From Bowling Alone showing decline from 1960 to 2000 in the percentage of people who say “most people can be trusted.” The data from 2000 to 2024 shows trust roughly flatlining around 35%.

What happened? Starting in the 1950s, America underwent a wave of changes that looked like unalloyed progress. The 1956 Federal Highway Act funded 41,000 miles of interstate, opening up a suburban frontier where families could afford their own homes with yards, driveways, and privacy. Women entered the workforce en masse, expanding freedom and equality and adding to household incomes. The television — which provided cheap, effortless entertainment — was adopted faster than any technology in history, from 10% of homes in 1950 to 90% by 1959, according to Putnam. Air conditioning made homes comfortable year-round. Shopping migrated from Main Street to climate-controlled malls with better prices and wider selection.

These changes were widely embraced because they made life better for millions of people in countless ways. But as Putnam documents, they quietly eroded community, shifting American life toward comfort, privacy, and control, and away from the places and habits that had held communities together.

Suburbs scattered neighbors across cul-de-sacs designed for privacy over casual interaction. The front porch — where you might wave to a neighbor and end up talking for an hour — gave way to the private backyard deck and the two-car garage. Television privatized entertainment, moving what once happened in theaters, dance halls, and community centers into living rooms where, by the 1990s, the average American adult was watching almost four hours a day, and, Putnam tells us, half of adults usually watched alone. Dual incomes often meant neither parent had time for the PTA meeting or volunteer shift. Local shops on main street closed because they couldn’t compete with the mall.

Generation by generation, the habits of connection weakened while the scope of everyday comfort, privacy, and control grew. Then came the digital revolution — with the internet and smartphones — and these isolating forces accelerated.

Digital technology extends the logic of suburban sprawl: it allows us to live not just physically apart, but entirely in parallel. In the past decade, e-commerce jumped from 7% to 16% of retail while physical stores shuttered. Online grocery sales are growing 28% year over year. Home exercise has surged in popularity. Twenty-eight percent of Americans work from home, up from just 8% in 2019. Across every sphere — shopping, working, exercising, socializing — we’re choosing staying in over going out because we enjoy the privacy and convenience.


Figure 2. *How Couples Meet and Stay Together. It is great that digital tools help people meet romantic partners. The problem visible in this chart is the decline in all other forms of socialization.

Meanwhile productivity technologies are dissolving the boundaries between work and personal life. While work used to have clear boundaries, today, for knowledge workers in particular, a laptop and Wi-Fi mean the office never closes. Work bleeds into every hour, every room. Microsoft’s Work Trend Index reports that “the average employee now sends or receives more than 50 messages outside of core business hours, and by 10 p.m., nearly a third (29%) of active workers dive back into their inboxes.” More than a third of U.S. workers now do gig work, which offers the freedom to work whenever you want. But when you can always be earning, social commitments become harder to justify. Giurge, Whillans, and West argue that “time poverty” — the chronic feeling of having too much to do and not enough time to do it — is increasing and hits affluent knowledge workers hardest. They use time-saving tools not to free up social or leisure time, but to take on more work commitments. These innovations in how we work make us more productive and create earning opportunities. But they also place a round-the-clock demand on our time. And when we optimize for individual productivity, we sacrifice the shared time — after-hours and weekends — that enables community life.

Workplace innovations are consuming social time and bandwidth, and so are the televisions in our pocket. Putnam found that most of the leisure gains since 1965 have gone to screen-based activities rather than face-to-face social ones. He called television “the only leisure activity that seems to inhibit participation outside the home.” And he argued TV didn’t just consume time, it also rewired leisure from shared experience toward solitary consumption.

Whereas television stays in one room, smartphones are with us everywhere — at bus stops, in waiting rooms, at restaurants, and while “watching” our kids at the playground. Americans still watch 3.5 hours of TV daily in addition to 4.7 hours on smartphones. The internet and smartphones didn’t replace television; they stacked on top, crowding out a mix of other activities. Scott Wallsten found that “a cost of online activity is less time spent with other people.”And when Hunt Allcott randomly deactivated people’s Facebook accounts, they got back an average of 60 minutes per day and spent more of it with people in person. As Netflix co-founder Reed Hastings put it, “we compete with sleep.”

Figure 3. Our World in Data showing rise in daily hours spent with digital media in the U.S. Satista found that in 2021 this figure reached over eight hours and has remained there since

When we spoke with Putnam recently, he said "things are way worse than I thought." Today, only 30% of Americans socialize on any given day. As of 2023, young people spend 45% more time alone than 15 years earlier. Two-thirds of Americans under 30 believe most people can't be trusted. According to Sherry Turkle, even time together with others is compromised by our connected devices, which make us less present to those around us.

Figure 4. Our World in Data figure showing increase in time alone and decrease in time spent with all other groups among Americans between 15 and 29

There’s a reason these tools have saturated our lives. They save us time, make us more productive, free us from drudgery, engage us when we’re bored, connect us when we’re otherwise alone. But for all that technology can do, it is rarely an adequate substitute for physical presence, shared vulnerability, or the willingness to be inconvenienced for the sake of others.

For better and for worse, we built a world where you can work, shop, eat, exercise, learn, and socialize without ever leaving your home, where work and leisure are increasingly things we do alone in front of screens. In other words, we’ve allowed social interaction to become more optional than ever.

The Path Forward

When we asked Robert Putnam what gives him hope, he pointed to history. In The Upswing, he reminds us that Americans faced a similar crisis before. The Gilded Age brought economic inequality, industrialization, and the rise of anonymous urban life. Small-town bonds gave way to tenements and factory floors. Trust collapsed. By the 1890s, social capital had reached historic lows — roughly where it stands today.

The Progressive reformers found this new world unacceptable, but they didn’t try to turn back the clock. Cities and factories were here to stay. Instead, they adapted, creating new forms of connection suited to their changed reality, from settlement houses for anonymous neighborhoods to women’s clubs that built networks of mutual aid. They didn’t reject modernity; they metabolized it, showing up day after day to create new institutions and communities suited to the industrialized world.

Decades ago Neil Postman observed in Amusing Ourselves to Death that we haven’t been conquered by technology — we’ve surrendered to it because we like the stimulation and cheap amusement. More recently, Nicholas Carr concludes in Superbloom that we’re complicit in our loneliness because we embrace these superficial, mediated forms of connection. Like Postman and Carr, the Progressive Era reformers understood where they had agency when technology upended their world. It isn’t in demanding that others fix systems we willingly participate in, nor is it in outright rejecting technologies that deliver real benefits — it’s in changing how we ourselves live with and make use of the tools that surround us.

There are already signs that people are willing to do this. In a small, three-day survey, Talker Research found that 63% of Gen Z now intentionally unplug — the highest rate of any generation — and that half of Americans are spending less time on screens for their well-being, and their top alternative activity is time with friends and family. And they found that two-thirds of Americans are embracing “slow living,” with 84% adopting analog lifestyle choices like wristwatches and paper notebooks that help them unplug. Meanwhile in Eventbrite’s “Reset to Real” survey, 74% of young adults say in-person experiences matter more than digital ones. New devices like the Light Phone, Brick, Meadow, and Daylight Computer signal a growing demand for utility without distraction.

Unplugging isn’t enough on its own. The time and energy we reclaim has to go toward building social connections: hosting the dinner party despite the hassle, staying for coffee after church when you’d rather go home, sitting through the awkward silence, offering or asking for help.

Ultimately, we can’t expect deep social connection in a culture that prioritizes individual ease and convenience. Nor is community something technology can deliver for us. What’s required is a change of culture, grounded in a basic fact of human nature: that authentic connection requires action and effort, and that this action and effort is part of what makes connection fulfilling in the first place.

We can form new rituals and institutions that allow us to adapt to technology, ultimately changing it to our liking. But it starts with the tools we use and the choices we make each day. If we all prioritize the individual comforts and conveniences we’ve grown accustomed to, no one else will restore the community we say we miss. No one else can. If we want deeper relationships and better communities than we have, we’re going to have to put more of our time, effort, and attention into the people around us.

History shows that we can adapt, building communities suited to changing times. The question is: Will we stay in and scroll? Or will we go out and choose one another?