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BUENOS AIRES — The opposable thumb is the superpower of the human race. At least, that’s what we learned in school. Today it’s put to use by anyone with a smartphone on the couch or in bed who can, with a simple swipe to the right: find a match on a dating app and feel desired; rack up likes and validation; pay for adult content; order food; create a avatar profile; chat for hours on WhatsApp; send private photos; masturbate; achieve orgasm.
Isolation is no longer being imposed by government health agencies, but it’s still reshaping how we live and connect. In this age of “artificial intimacy,” we can form relationships with digital beings, have screen-mediated sex, and access endless entertainment. Yet, despite all the tech and AI innovations, nothing replaces human reproduction.
Birth rates are falling worldwide, and it’s becoming impossible to ignore. Surrounded by the constant glow of screens, I’m neither technophobic nor techno-optimistic — but I keep asking: how are we going to have kids if we no longer meet each other outside the screen?
Every time the global decline in fertility — a trend that has been steady for the past 70 years — makes headlines, the conversation becomes polarized. Conservative voices often strike first, issuing apocalyptic warnings about imminent depopulation and the collapse of economic systems. Their blame, delivered with fallacious arguments and sometimes misogynistic tones, is aimed squarely at women (as if reproduction depended solely on us), feminists, homosexuality, abortion, and the policies that expanded sexual and reproductive rights.
Meanwhile, voices more aligned with human rights and feminist perspectives tend to downplay the issue, steer the conversation toward safer territory, or respond defensively. They highlight the positives: fewer teenage pregnancies, women making more informed and autonomous choices, and the potential to improve education. Economic constraints and global crises are also cited as key factors shaping decisions about having children. All valid points — but sometimes being right isn’t enough.
Choosing not to reproduce and making informed decisions about pregnancy are important achievements. Yet when we ask whether we are having the children we want or even the children we can have, little is said about the social and cultural transformations brought by our screens. These technologies have subtly reshaped our lives, creating barriers to the most basic starting point of procreation: face-to-face encounters.
The decline in birth rates can — and should — be seen as an opportunity to open up multiple conversations with sensitivity and empathy. Especially for those who want to have children but cannot find a partner, whether due to the economic downturn, unequal caregiving responsibilities, or the anxiety fueled by climate change and a world at war. It’s also a time to address other pressing crises affecting humanity today: the loneliness epidemic, which is already recognized as a silent threat; the breakdown of face-to-face interaction; and the difficulty of forming lasting partnerships.
We need to talk seriously, without cynicism, about love and relationships today — about the many people striving to find a partner, start a family, and have children in this complex and challenging world.
Some data
A study released this year by the U.S.-based Institute for Family Studies (IFS) revisits the so-called “sexual recession,” a term that gained popularity in 2018 after The Atlantic magazine published its article, “What’s Causing the Sex Recession?” The new report confirms the trend: “Americans are having less sex than ever before.” Drawing on data from the 2024 General Social Survey (GSS), the study shows that this is largely a generational phenomenon — younger Americans are having sex less frequently than previous generations.
In 1990, 55% of American adults aged 18 to 64 reported having sex at least once a week. By the turn of the millennium, that number was already on the decline: in 2010, fewer than half said they had weekly sex, and in 2024, according to the GSS survey of over 1,000 men and women, it had fallen to just 37%. Of course, frequency doesn’t equal quality, and intimacy has been redefined in recent years, but these figures are useful for understanding demographic shifts.
The report also highlights a drop in couple relationships. Between 2014 and 2024, the share of young adults (18-29) living with a partner fell from 42% to 32%, according to the GSS. This decline in cohabitation plays a major role in the ongoing sexual recession.
More screens mean more isolation.
“It is no coincidence that the decline in marital sex has followed the digital revolution,” say IFS researchers. They point to a new factor in the drop in sexual frequency: platformization and the everyday presence of smartphones. According to the report, the turning point came around 2010. While the sexual recession has no single cause, the argument makes sense: more screens mean more isolation, less socialization, fewer partnerships — and, predictably, fewer encounters and fewer babies.
“Between 2010 and 2019, the average time young adults spent with friends in a given week fell by nearly 50%, from 12.8 hours to just 6.5 hours,” the IFS notes. By 2024, that number had dropped further to just 5.1 hours per week. Researchers see parallels with Jonathan Haidt’s analysis in The Anxious Generation. The American social psychologist describes 2010–2015 as the “Great Rewiring”: teenagers hitting puberty during this period were immersed in ubiquitous digital media, thanks to the surge of smartphones in the late 2000s. Childhood, Haidt argues, had become increasingly digital.
Lacking social skills
As a result, children today are not exposed to as much socialization as previous generations. The digital media revolution has been linked to a documented rise in anxiety, depression, self-harm, and suicide. Unsurprisingly, it has also coincided with growing sexual inactivity. More time on smartphones, social media, pornography, and video games leaves young adults with fewer opportunities to develop the social skills needed for relationships and less time in settings — like parties or social gatherings — that would naturally foster romance, the IFS notes.
Professors Grant Bailey and Brad Wilcox of IFS describe smartphones, screens, and platforms offering endless entertainment as “electronic opiates.” “They not only cause a decline in dating and marriage among young adults, but also weaken already established relationships,” they warn.
Alaleh Nejafian, an Argentine psychoanalyst and author of Por amor. Por qué pasamos de soportarlo todo a no soportar nada (For Love: Why We Went from Enduring Everything to Enduring Nothing), reflects on what she hears in her office: “Relationships have changed, the way we relate to each other has changed. Women have embarked on a path of profound transformation in recent decades, but there is a significant gap between theory, between what I can say rationally, and what still happens in practice.
Many people are looking for casual relationships, not lasting connections.
Cis women, who are generally the most complicated in terms of sexuality, continue to relate to men who I’m not sure have understood this path of transformation. And there is a lot of disagreement. What I see in my clinic in particular is that there are many people consulting, reaching a certain age, pushing 40, where the issue of the biological clock also begins to play a big role, who are suffering, suffering from not being in a relationship and not being with someone and feeling very lonely. There are many who want to be mothers but cannot find someone to do it with. They are asking themselves, ‘Who do they expect us to have children with?’”
The gamification of relationships
A study from the Institute of Psychology at the University of Wroclaw surveyed 6,646 people who had formed couples both online and offline from 50 countries, including Argentina. It found that among those who met online, 20% were less satisfied with their relationship and love life. There was less intimacy, less passion, and less commitment. Researchers point to a few explanations. Couples who meet online tend to be less similar in education, ethnicity, and religion, while offline relationships often arise from shared social networks, increasing the chances of compatibility.
The overabundance of options in online dating environments can also overwhelm people, pushing them to make quick judgments based on looks rather than deeper factors. Initial deception is common, with 53% of online daters admitting to lying about age, height, weight, or income. Those who succeed on digital platforms remain aware of alternatives, making them more prone to comparison and regret, which can weaken commitment. Modern apps emphasize rapid, gamified interactions focused on appearance, a shift from early dating websites where users often sought lifelong partners. Today, many are looking for casual relationships, not lasting connections.
The business of loneliness
The rise of virtual girlfriends and OnlyFans is evidence that loneliness today, in addition to being a public health issue, is also a business. Leonid Radvinsky, the owner of the platform, earned $700 million last year, with 378 million fans worldwide (more than the population of the United States). Eighty-five percent of users access the site via their phones, using their opposable thumbs. OnlyFans has paid more than $20 billion to creators since 2016.
The search for love and sex has always been part of a profitable market. These days, with multiple epidemics of loneliness, disrupted matchmaking, and declining face-to-face interaction, there is an army of singles navigating digital financial capitalism, which no longer relies on the traditional nuclear family for its productive system.
Loneliness is more than an individual feeling—it is a political problem.
Tech innovations in artificial intelligence are tapping into this niche. Girlfriend.ai, for example, allows users to create artificial girlfriends — chatbots with which they can form socio-emotional bonds. Its latest report on loneliness and romance finds that young men are increasingly turning to AI companions to avoid rejection and isolation. Half of men aged 18–30 surveyed said they would rather have an artificial girlfriend than face rejection from a real person. Young men also interact with AI partners almost three times more than the general male population.
Desire is not enough
History shows that pro-natalist policies often restricted sexual and reproductive rights, echoing the catastrophic narratives conservative voices use today. But there are also constructive state responses: support for single-parent households, family leave, better care infrastructure, and access to assisted fertilization treatments.
What else could states do to address social disconnection? Some have imagined a Ministry of Love — though the Orwellian ring of the name may raise eyebrows. In Japan, ministerial status was given to loneliness to combat silent deaths linked to suicide and mental health issues. A “Ministry of Celebration” might sound dystopian, yet it reflects the compressed realities of modern life.
Hannah Arendt warned in The Origins of Totalitarianism that loneliness is more than an individual feeling—it is a political problem. It reshapes intimate, emotional lives and, if ignored, erodes the foundations of community and democracy, including solidarity.
Even the most innovative public policies can’t fully solve this. Nowadays, digital isolation is changing how people work, entertain themselves, and form emotional bonds. Falling birth rates cannot be addressed through pro- or anti-natalist panic, nor by clinging to outdated ideas of family. Behind the statistics are stories of frustration and unmet desires — stories that those working in human rights, feminism, and progressive movements cannot ignore. If society fails to listen, these experiences will be monopolized by conservative voices. One way forward is to foster narratives centered on emotional fulfillment and the enduring search for love.