The longest study ever done still reminds us of what we forget.

I've spent the last few years writing about loneliness, designing for community, and asking why so many of us feel disconnected in a world that seems built to connect us.
Sometimes the clearest truths aren't new, they're just ignored.
I see it in city plans.
In workplace strategies.
Even in my own life.
We say people matter.
But when we zoom out and look at how we actually design our homes, ourdays, our systems, that message often gets lost.
Meanwhile, a quiet study at Harvard has spent the past 85 years doing something rare: paying attention.
Not to trends or tech or GDP, but to what actually makes a life worthliving.
And it's not a secret.
It's not a hack.
It's not even surprising.
It's this:
The quality of your relationships shapes the quality of your life.
Not your bank account.
Not your job title.
Not your ability to optimise your morning routine.
Just… people.
The kind who show up, stick around, and care.
Let's talk about it.
In 1938, a team of Harvard researchers launched what would become one of the longest-running studies on human development ever done.
The Harvard Study of Adult Development, often called "The Grand Study."
They didn't start with a diverse group.
At first, the study followed a few hundred Harvard sophomores, all white men from privileged backgrounds, to track what made them flourish or falter overtime.
But a few years later, they added a second group: teenage boys from Boston's poor neighbourhoods, many living in challenging and unstable conditions.
The goal?
Track their lives over time.
Not just income or career outcomes, but relationships, health, mental wellbeing, and even how they felt about ageing.
Today, more than eight decades later, researchers are now following the second generation, over 1,300 descendants, making it a rare glimpse into how wellbeing moves across both time and family lines.
So what did they find?
Not some grand theory. Not a magic formula.
Just one very consistent truth:
"The clearest message from this 85-year study is this: Good relationships keep us happier and healthier. Period."
– Robert J. Waldinger, current director (Find his TED talk here.)
We tend to oversimplify happiness.
As if it's a checklist:
✔ Career
✔ Partner
✔ House
✔ Yoga mat
✔ IKEAdrawer that closes properly
But the Grand Study shows that it's not the checkmarks, it's the feeling behind them.
And the most protective, nourishing, and longevity-boosting feeling of all?
Belonging.
People who felt emotionally safe and connected aged better.
They were physically healthier.
They recovered faster from illness.
Their memory stayed sharper longer.
Their nervous systems were more regulated.
And they were, simply put, more satisfied with life.
And it wasn't about the number of friends or the length of a marriage.
It was about quality. Emotional closeness. Reciprocity.
Knowing you could count on someone.
Loneliness, on the other hand, was one of the strongest predictors of early physical and cognitive decline.
And it didn't matter if you were rich, successful, or had a summer house in Cape Cod. If you felt disconnected, your health paid the price.
If this research has been around for decades, why are we still designing cities, homes, workplaces, and digital tools that work against connection?
We plan for cars, not conversations.
We stack people vertically in apartments where nobody knows their neighbours.
We create open-plan offices where nobody makes eye contact.
We reward overwork, independence, and "resilience", and wonderwhy everyone's burned out, lonely, and anxious.
Even in urban planning, we still treat public benches as risky rather than essential.
We criminalise loitering but forget that lingering is how friendships begin.
The built environment shapes our behaviour and our feelings.
And we've inherited a design language that optimised for output, not oxytocin.
Let's talk about the body.
Because connection isn't a soft idea, it's a neurobiological need.
When we feel emotionally safe and bonded, our brain lights up like aChristmas tree in all the right places:
• Oxytocin kicks in — the "cuddle chemical" that strengthens trust and bonds.
• Cortisol (stress hormone) drops, reducing inflammation and long-term disease risk.
• The vagus nerve activates — part of the parasympathetic nervous system, helping our body enter a state of rest and restoration.
• Mirror neurons fire when we feel attuned and mirrored by others — making us feel seen and understood.
This is not fluff. This is hardwired.
We are mammals, social animals, and we literally regulate our internal systems through co-regulation with others.
That means your best friend, your colleague, your neighbour across the street, they're not just part of your social life.
They're part of your immune system.
Imagine if we treated connection like infrastructure.
Not as a by-product, but as a core feature.
In cities:
• More spaces to pause and talk, such as stoops, porches, and shared courtyards.
• Mixed-use buildings where you bump into people more than you scroll past them.
• Public art, street life, community gardens, the glue between strangers.
At work:
• Less performance. More presence.
• Psychological safety built into team culture.
• Designated "human time", not just lunch breaks, but connection breaks.
In homes:
• Spaces that encourage shared meals.
• Co-housing models that fight loneliness without forcing friendship.
• Architecture that invites eye contact, not just square metres.
And yes, even in digital life:
Less gamification. More genuine interaction.
More voice. Less vanity metrics.
Because if 85 years of research points to one thing, it's this:
Connection isn't a luxury. It's a lifeline.
Here's the uncomfortable truth.
We don't have a knowledge gap.
We have a priority gap.
We know what matters.
We've known since 1938.
And yet we keep designing, building, and structuring our lives around everything but connection, then act surprised when people feel lost, isolated, or burnt out.
The Grand Study didn't discover a new truth.
It reminded us of an old one.
The kind we already feel in our bones, when someone picks up the phone just to check in, when you share a laugh with a neighbour, when you cry in someone's kitchen and they don't try to fix it, they just sit there, with you.
That's the real architecture of a good life.
So as we plan our next cities, homes, offices, and futures, maybe the smartest thing we can do is build a little less for function and a little more for friendship.
Because in the end, it's not about what we built.
It's about who we built it with, and who stayed.
Lots of love,
Stina