I fear we might be losing the basic human facility to be alone -

“I fear we might be losing the basic human facility to be alone – and with that you throw out independent decision-making, what to trust, what not to trust; key stuff – a perilous loss.” Thus spoke Dylan Moran, in a time when the world is ever connected by wires, screens, and ceaseless voices. His words are not the musings of idleness but the cry of one who perceives a danger greater than war or famine: the loss of solitude, the fading of our ability to dwell with our own thoughts. He names this not a small inconvenience but a perilous loss, for in solitude the soul learns discernment, independence, and truth.

The meaning of this saying is that when man forgets how to be alone, he forgets how to hear his own voice. Surrounded always by chatter, by opinion, by the noise of the crowd, he no longer learns the art of independent decision-making. The ability to judge what is true and what is false, what to trust and what to reject, grows weak. A mind that cannot rest in solitude becomes like a reed in the wind—bent by every passing gust, unable to stand firm. Moran warns us that without solitude, humanity becomes prey to manipulation, fear, and shallow thinking.

The ancients knew this law. The prophets sought wilderness; the philosophers withdrew to gardens and porches; the monks retreated to deserts. Socrates, though surrounded by the Athenian crowd, insisted that the unexamined life was not worth living, and such examination requires silence, solitude, reflection. In every age, the great and wise have known that to govern oneself—and to discern truth from falsehood—one must first be able to stand alone.

History confirms this truth. Consider Abraham Lincoln, who during the darkest hours of the American Civil War, would retreat into solitude, pacing alone through the night, weighing his choices. It was in such moments that he found the courage to issue the Emancipation Proclamation, despite fierce opposition. Had he relied solely on the voices around him, he would have faltered. His greatness lay in the strength to be alone, to think independently, and to decide. Moran’s warning reminds us that if we lose this faculty, we lose the foundation of true leadership and freedom.

In our modern age, the constant presence of technology magnifies this danger. With every hour filled by the hum of screens, the scroll of images, the clamor of voices, we risk forgetting how to sit in silence. Children grow restless without noise, adults panic when disconnected. This is the perilous loss Moran names: without the courage to be alone, we cannot cultivate the wisdom to choose rightly. The crowd will choose for us, and we will not know the difference.

The lesson is urgent. Guard your solitude. Practice it as you would any other discipline. Walk alone without distraction, read without noise, sit with your thoughts in silence. Allow your mind to wrestle with itself, to test what it believes, to ask what it should trust. For in this practice lies freedom. Without solitude, you will be carried away by the flood of voices; with it, you will stand like a mountain unmoved.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, hear Dylan Moran’s wisdom: solitude is not emptiness, but strength. Do not fear being alone; fear instead losing the ability to be alone. For only in solitude will you learn who you are, what you value, and what you must resist. Only in solitude will you cultivate the independence of mind that is the root of freedom. Treasure this faculty, and never cast it aside, for in its loss lies peril—not only to yourself, but to all of humanity.