Are podcasts filling – or deepening – a void in men’s lives?
With Donald Trump successfully harnessing the bro-sphere to help win him the US election, it may be time to look at the implications of alienated young men substituting podcasts for traditional media and real-life connection
By Ben Jhoty
I WAS AT my best friend’s birthday party in Bathurst last weekend. He made a tree-change and moved out of Sydney about six years ago. In the years since I’d previously only made it out there to visit him once, though I do see him in Sydney when he comes here for work.
His party was the first time in years I’d seen a lot of my old university friends in person. Some I hadn’t seen since my wedding eight years ago, others even longer. At one stage during the party a female friend asked me who I hang out with here in Sydney now that my best friend is no longer here. “How do you cope without him?” she asked.
I said I manage to get by, as I’ve made new friends through my daughter’s school community and play pick-up basketball with a bunch of other dads. I’m also busy with the responsibilities of work and having a young family. There isn’t that much time for socialising, I said, before chucking down another beer.
But I’ve found myself reflecting on the question a little more closely these last few days. The truth is, I haven’t felt my best friend’s absence as keenly as I thought I would when he first left. The reason for that is technology. We regularly chat on the phone, share memes and send juvenile texts. That seems to be enough to sustain the friendship at this point in our lives.
But digging a little deeper, I think the real reason I haven’t felt his absence could be because I fill almost every waking hour when I’m not around other people listening to podcasts. Whether I’m in the gym, on my weekly run, on commutes, doing groceries, walking to the convenience store, picking up a pizza, driving to the shops, doing the dishes or vacuuming the lounge room, I’m rarely without the company of a podcast companion.
My aural buddies are mostly male, though not particularly bro-ey, my listening habits largely consisting of NBA podcasts and film and TV show analysis. I have developed para-social relationships with most of the hosts – The Ringer’s Bill Simmons and I are in something of a rough patch, while the rich timbre of Ryen Russillo’s remarkable voice helps soothe the aches in my calves as I crest a hill on my 5-kilometre jog.
Of course, podcasts being an intimate aural medium, it can be a jarring when you see the voice onto which you’ve projected an often-idealised mental image, on screen. I got an almighty shock earlier this week when I saw one of my regular hoops podcasters on an Instagram reel. In this case he looked younger than I expected and I couldn’t reconcile his youthful hipness with the wise analytical tones of the bloke who so astutely breaks down plays and dissects games on the airwaves – perhaps I have an age bias. This blast of reality was unusual; in my experience podcasters are usually less attractive IRL.
I have wondered from time to time, if my reliance on podcasts to get through the daily grind is healthy. On occasions when I have misplaced my headphones, I’ve found myself panicked by the prospect of knocking out chin-ups without my podcast chums or raw dogging a run. Despite my fears, however, what I’ve invariably found on those occasions, is that without my aural lifeline, my mind has been free to wander and daydream, unlocking both creative and idle thoughts that would otherwise have remained buried under the minutiae of Jason Tatum’s jump-shot, Ant Edwards’ aura or an episode recap of Disclaimer.
Of course, I’m not alone among men who have developed a dependence on podcasts or replaced real friends with virtual broadcasters and content creators. Indeed, it appears many men are turning to the bro-sphere – Joe Rogan, comedian Tony Hinchcliffe, Theo Von, among others – in the absence of IRL friends. More worryingly, many young men are also relying on these figures as a source of news, as well as being influenced by their opinions and those of the guests they have on their shows. Collectively, this right-leaning group of mostly male podcasters has been called “Fox News for young people”, and it’s not just possible but highly likely they’re shaping their listeners’ worldviews.
“The top three podcasts in the week of the US election – with audiences bigger than those of every news outlet, every true crime show, every wellness blogger – were from Joe Rogan, Tucker Carlson and Theo Von,” writes Sam Wolfson in The Guardian. It’s a cocooned, mostly passive (for the listener) universe that largely sustains itself, though you do have to wonder if some of these listeners are the same disparate and alienated folk who regularly fill comment threads with vitriol and bile – if you’ve ever seen a thread go nuclear in response to a dig at Rogan, for example, you would have to conclude that there is likely a lot of crossover.
Much has been written about the loneliness epidemic among young and middle-aged men. A survey by men’s health organisation Healthy Male found that 43 per cent of Australian men are lonely, with 16 per cent experiencing high levels of loneliness.
The reasons behind this are complex and multi-factorial. It’s often due to relationship or marriage breakdown and separation. Conversely, it might also reflect the fact that many men don’t make the same effort to keep up with old friends once they enter a relationship, that many women do. Should their relationship end, these men can often find themselves feeling isolated.
The question is, are para-social relationships with podcasters adequately filling the void left by real friendships?
In a Reddit thread from a few years ago titled “I don’t have friends I have podcasts”, the poster complained that it had become difficult for him to have a conversation IRL. “I used to work alone and I would listen to The Joe Rogan Experience to fill the silence which was ok at that time but it has grown into me choosing to listen to strangers talk rather that have my own conversations. I enjoy podcasts still, I am just frustrated with myself for pushing people away and substituting life interactions for conversations I don’t get to be a part of.” Commenters agreed – one said that at “a time and place where I felt really isolated, podcasts filled the void perfectly” but now they are “still isolated – sometimes when I’m with actual people, I am looking forward to when I’m alone and listening”.
I can relate to these feelings. Oftentimes I’ve avoided making eye contact with acquaintances on my commute because I’d rather listen to Bill Simmons and friends. We all do it. It’s ‘me’ time, right?
But is it truly, though? Or is it closing yourself off and passively consuming content that is shaping your outlook on the world in ways you’re not fully aware of? Real ‘me’ time would involve being alone with your thoughts – a horrifying enough concept to warrant the crude hyperbolic nickname: raw-dogging. Perhaps those guys who do it on 12-hour flights are onto something?
I wouldn’t call myself lonely, but perhaps I do lack for meaningful human connection outside of the workplace. If I didn’t have a family or if my relationship broke down, I can see how a more sinister void could open up. Then, I’m not sure if podcasts, NBA box scores, streaming shows, memes and so forth would be enough to fill it.
I can see how easy and tempting it might be to retreat into the para-social, closed-circuit world of podcasts. A world that, while seemingly passive and benign, could wrap its tentacles around the untethered and restless soul. Because as we may have just observed in the US a couple of weeks ago, if large sections of a plugged-in populace are sleepwalking through their lives, there are likely to be repercussions for us all.
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