Beyond the Algorithm

Written By Dominick Men's Health

What Young Men Are Really Searching For

AI image: A dimly lit bedroom at night, with a young man sitting on his bed illuminated only by the blue glow of his phone screen. His expression is neutral or slightly pensive.

A Different Kind of Hunger

Picture a young man scrolling TikTok at 1 a.m. He’s not just chasing laughs or controversy, he’s chasing something deeper. A sense of connection. A sign. A way to feel less alone. What's wild about this, is that many of us are guilty of the pre-sleep scroll night after night, rather than attempting to connect.

This week, I listened to the Joe Rogan Experience episode with State Representative James Talarico, who also knows the feeling of looking for connection. Talarico mentioned that following a brutal legislative session, he felt spiritually depleted. He wasn’t burned out, he was emptied. So, he enrolled in seminary in search of a different kind of truth. One that is not shaped by algorithms or outrage, but by meaning.

This blog isn’t just about men’s mental health or loneliness. It’s about something deeper: a spiritual and relational void that many young men feel today. And how we can start to fill it, together.

Why Disconnection Hurts So Much

“We’re growing up in an incoherent universe,” Talarico said on the Joe Rogan podcast. He wasn’t being dramatic. He was naming a truth that millions of young men feel but rarely say: that meaning is hard to find in a world of collapsing institutions, performative masculinity, and economic anxiety.

The data backs this up. Fifty-three percent of men reported that “no one really knows me”, and almost half (47%) agreed that their interests and ideas are not shared by those around me. Nearly one in three reports feeling very lonely at least once in the past week. And among men who face financial instability, the risk of suicidal thoughts is 16 times higher than average (State of American Men, 2025).

AI image: Two young men sitting on a park bench or rooftop, facing each other, deeply engaged in conversation. One may have a hand on the other’s shoulder or both are visibly relaxed and listening.

When young men feel disconnected from others, the sense of meaning in their lives often deteriorates. Without mentors, deep friendships, or emotional anchors, their identities begin to float untethered from anything enduring. Relationships, once a source of purpose, become fleeting or transactional. School and work feel hollow. Faith communities and civic groups, once spaces where people found belonging, are no longer as accessible or relevant. What’s left is often digital noise and a growing emptiness that no podcast or post can fill.

Depending how you divide men, between 15% – 21% of men say they don’t have a close friend reflecting nearly a five-fold increase since 1990 (American Survey Center, 2021; AIBM, 2024). This epidemic of isolation is not just social, but existential. AIBM's report on the state of working-class men further details how declining rates of marriage, family connection, and stable employment are unraveling the social bonds that once gave men a sense of identity and purpose. Disconnection doesn’t just leave men alone; it leaves them adrift.

The U.S. Surgeon General has gone so far as to call loneliness a public health crisis, equating its risk to smoking 15 cigarettes a day.

Disconnection isn’t just sad. It’s deadly.

AI image: A wide shot of a nearly empty church or quiet spiritual space with one young man sitting alone in contemplation.

The Longing Beneath the Anger

What if the behaviors we typically label as anger are actually grief?

In the interview, Talarico said: “They’re not angry because they’re powerful. They’re angry because they’re powerless.” Many young men are caught in a paradox, they’re told they’re privileged and powerful, while privately feeling abandoned and invisible.

This grief manifests in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. It shows up as withdrawal from friendships, a growing suspicion of institutions, and rage at the world that seems to have no place for them. It can look like chronic detachment including, disengagement from school, work, or relationships, or it can show up more explosively in online outbursts, political extremism, or violence.

According to the Young Men Research Project (YMRP), 54% of young men say agree that they often feel lonely (YMRP, 2025, p. 5). This isn’t because young men don’t want connection. It’s because they are losing opportunities, structures, and encouragement to connect. In a culture that idolizes self-reliance and punishes vulnerability, emotional fluency becomes a foreign language. Grief, unspoken and unsupported, becomes confusion, frustration, and eventually, a quiet ache for belonging.

AI image: A side-by-side image—on one side, a young man overwhelmed by screens and social media; on the other, the same man laughing with friends in a real-world setting like a barbecue or community center.

The Sacred Power of Brotherhood

The good news? Connection works. And it heals.

In his book The Bromance, Eric Robinson details how emotionally supportive male friendships can radically improve mental health, identity development, and well-being. Far from soft, these friendships are lifesaving.

Talarico shared how he once sat down with a gun rights advocate, whom he anticipated having nothing in common. He didn’t engage to argue, but to listen. “Love your enemies. See your opponent as a child of God,” he said. That’s not weakness. That’s spiritual courage.

The Listening Project reveals similar truths: young men crave emotional closeness, but don’t know where to turn (Nelson & Way, 2022). When given space to speak honestly, they don’t lash out. They open up.

Over time, the story of male friendship shifts dramatically. As boys, many express deep emotional bonds with one another, openly declaring love and reliance. But by late adolescence, these connections often weaken, not because the need disappears, but because cultural norms discourage vulnerability. As The Bromance explains, young men are socialized to suppress expressions of affection and emotional dependence, leading many to experience a "crisis of closeness" in early adulthood (Robinson, 2018).

The Listening Project’s work in middle schools illustrates this vividly. When boys were instructed on and encouraged to engage in deep listening and open-ended conversations with peers, teachers, and family members, their capacity for empathy and connection blossomed. These young men articulated how meaningful it was to be seen and heard beyond stereotypes. In reflective essays, many described how the process helped them reconnect with loved ones and themselves (Nelson & Way, 2022).

These findings echo what many of us have felt firsthand: male friendship doesn’t erode from disinterest. It’s eroded by silence, stigma, and a lack of spaces that normalize emotional intimacy. If we’re serious about reversing this crisis, we need to invest in environments where boys and men, and women and girls, can build emotional literacy, and sustain bonds that don't disappear as they age.

Young men aren’t asking for a handout. They’re asking for brotherhood, mentorship, and space to become.

AI image: A diverse group of teenage boys in a classroom or circle, led by a mentor or facilitator, participating in an open dialogue session.

From Spiritual Crisis to Relational Renewal

We don’t just need more programs. We need a new vision of manhood, one rooted in care, interdependence, and emotional literacy.

We need investments in what some have called relational infrastructure: support systems that recognize how identity, well-being, and meaning are not simply individual achievements but emerge from our connections to others, society, and the physical world. This includes mental health services that affirm emotional expression, spaces for men to explore and shape their identities in community, and education that fosters relational awareness from a young age.

Rather than asking what's wrong with young men, we should be asking: what relationships have been lost, and what connections have never been formed? What kind of world are they being asked to grow into, alone? When we shift the question from blame to belonging, we open the door to healing. This is not just an individual responsibility. Health systems, schools, and faith communities all have a role to play in creating spaces where boys and young men can explore identity, develop empathy, and build lasting relational skills. These institutions are not just touchpoints; they are relational environments that shape the futures of our youth.

AI image: A cropped photo showing hands on shoulders or arms wrapped in solidarity—no faces, just the gesture of connection.

Conclusion: This Is the Sacred Work of Our Time

“AI will take our jobs,” Talarico said. “What it can’t take is our ability to connect, to care, to create meaning together.”

What young men are really searching for isn’t in an algorithm. It’s in eye contact. In shared silence. In friendships that don’t require performance. In spiritual belonging.

This is the work of a generation. And it begins with seeing young men not as broken, but as becoming.

References

Dominick Men's Health
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