Simply K

Here’s a theory, and it isn’t borrowed. Children who don’t merge into the community around them — the real one, the majority one, not just a tight little unit of parents and siblings and one loyal cousin — don’t just struggle. Evolutionarily speaking, they go extinct. Call it Coexist or Co-Extinct. Look at the data, and it stops sounding like a slogan and starts sounding like an overdue diagnosis.

Full disclosure on where this comes from: I didn’t read it in a journal. I lived it, for 43 years, as the unintended field experiment of two parents from completely different backgrounds and cultures who never quite agreed on which village I was supposed to belong to. Nobody handed me a manual. I had to reverse-engineer the theory the expensive way — trial, error, and a fair bit of unnecessary isolation along the route. Consider this article the refund.

Start with the obvious: no human was ever raised by two people alone. Anthropologist Sarah Hrdy calls us “cooperative breeders” — the only great ape whose infants are handed round a whole network of caregivers, related or not. Take the Agta of the Philippines and the BaYaka of the Congo Basin — two hunter-gatherer peoples anthropologists study precisely because they still live the way most of our ancestors did. A 2024 study of both groups found unrelated campmates and teenage neighbours doing as much hands-on childcare as parents. Chimps don’t get this deal. Lose the mother, lose the infant. SMART HUMANS BUILT A SPARE.

Jordan Peterson made roughly the same case, minus the anthropology. His claim: it is the primary duty of parents to make their children socially desirable, and by his account the window for making a child acceptable to its peers closes around age four. Blunt, but it rhymes uncomfortably well with the evolutionary case.

And let’s be honest about why some parents miss that window. It’s rarely an accident. More often it’s a preference dressed up as protection — a couple who wanted the quiet bubble for themselves, who found other people exhausting, and called the isolation “close-knit” instead of what it was. If they actually loved their child’s wellbeing as much as they claim, that energy would have gone into getting the kid known, liked, and folded into a wider circle — actively popularising them into the community — instead of building a bubble that mainly protects the parents’ own comfort. That’s not devotion. That’s cowardice wearing a cardigan, with a side of hypocrisy for anyone who still calls it “protective.” The child didn’t choose the bubble. They just got handed the invoice when it popped.

And the bubble has a signature. Siblings raised inside one only ever relax around each other — the family unit becomes the entire known universe, comfortable precisely because it never asks anything of them. Send them out into actual reality — a classroom, an office, a wedding full of strangers — and watch the confidence evaporate. Out of place, stiff, quietly overwhelmed by a room that isn’t required to be gentle with them. Not because the world is unusually cruel. Because they were never issued the passport for it.

Here’s the invoice, itemised. A meta-analysis across youth gaming studies puts the pooled rate of clinical gaming disorder at 8.6% — not casual play, actual disorder. A 2025 study of nearly 1,300 university students in Riyadh found gaming hours tracked directly with loneliness and social isolation severity. None of this is fringe science; it’s the same mechanism as the cousin who “just needs his space,” now running on a controller instead of a philosophy.

The depression numbers are worse than most parents want to know. About 18.1% of adolescents now have a major depressive episode in a given year — up from roughly 12% a decade ago. Girls sit at 25%, boys at 11%, and 40% of high schoolers report feeling persistently sad or hopeless. Researchers keep landing on the same suspects: heavy solo screen time, social media replacing in-person contact, and — the part parents skip past — less real-world socialising overall. One landmark study found teens on social media more than three hours daily had roughly double the risk of depression and anxiety. The common denominator isn’t the phone. It’s what the phone replaced.

My own theory, tested closer to home: my child will grow up loved and supported by several people, not just me — unlike their cousins, who were raised to believe they could manage entirely on their own. They stand now as living proof they can’t. Isolated, weak, quietly depressed, belonging nowhere in particular, and — per the data above — statistically unremarkable in that regard, which is the most damning part.

So here’s the test again, now with citations behind it. Solo gaming till 2am, food delivered because leaving the house feels like effort, no real friends, no discernible personality outside a subscription service — that’s Co-Extinct, and the numbers say it’s getting more common, not less. Real friends, real hobbies, real conversation, a working sense of humour — that’s Co-Exist, and it’s still available, if the parents ever put the bubble down long enough to notice.

The excuse was always “he’ll figure it out alone.” Congratulations — he did. That’s the tragedy, not the reassurance.