America is losing the links that bind communities together. As Alysse ElHage and Brad Wilcox previously highlighted, prime-age adults are becoming more atomized. Over the past decade, for the first time, the share of adults ages 18-55 who are neither married nor have children exceeds the number of adults in the same range who are married with kids. ElHage and Wilcox called the adults with neither spouses nor children “kinless adults.” Even though many young Americans hope for marriage and children, the number of these adults is projected to keep rising.
The “kinless” coinage sparked a good-faith critique from Elliot Haspel, who raised two concerns, one about accuracy, the other about charity. Many of the so-called “kinless” are, of course, not completely bereft of family. A person who is “never married and [has] no children in the home” may live with her aging mother. He could live in an apartment a short train ride from his nieces and nephews in the suburbs.
But, more than that, Haspel worried that “kinless” was a way of devaluing the people it described. Describing a group by what they lack ignored the way that they “live richly meaningful lives and contribute immensely to a healthy society.”
I certainly agree with Haspel that the so-called “kinless” live in relationships with others that C.S. Lewis described as “need and gift.” When my father entered hospice, it was my then-“kinless” brother who could do the most for him and my mother, while I was limited in my ability to help. I had responsibilities to my toddler and was hampered by the needs of her little sister growing in my belly. The “kinless” can step in with extraordinary generosity. My Catholic faith has always prized those who are willing to lay aside the blessings of marriage and family in order to consecrate themselves to a life of prayer and service to others.
But I still find it helpful to have a way to talk about the group of people without the particular kin found in marriage and childbearing, and I expect there will never be a word that feels entirely comfortable. People without marriage and children can and do form long-lasting relationships of love, but their lives are, in the aggregate, more precarious, and no delicacies of language can disguise this fact.
This group of adults, whatever term we use for them, will grow old with fewer ties to the rising generation. Even when they give generously to their own parents and siblings, they may find that, when it is their turn to descend into infirmity, they rely on the care of paid strangers or struggle to afford even that. “Kinless” can sound off-putting when it echoes snide comments about “childless cat ladies” but it also is unsettling if it points to an undesired, fearful future.
When we have a societal discomfort with a certain state in life, stigma follows whatever new, “neutral” word we coin to refer to it. Linguist Stephen Pinker called this the “euphemism treadmill,” where each new word coined to replace a slur eventually becomes contaminated by the culture and becomes impossible to use kindly. Any word for the people who have no direct biological tie to the next generation is likely to be subject to this euphemism treadmill effect. The word cannot be comfortable while it points to precarity.
This care gap is worth talking about while we can still do something about it. The decreasing rates of marriage and childbearing are hollowing out the fiscal and social support structures that most people depend on to grow old and die well.
There is rightfully a good deal of attention paid to the shrinking balances of the Social Security Trust Fund. When it is exhausted in 2037, Social Security payments won’t stop, but there will no longer be a cushion of funds to bridge the gap between funds coming in and funds going out. There already aren’t enough workers paying in to support the seniors receiving benefits, and when the trust fund is exhausted, the government will need to rematch the inflows and outflows by cutting benefits, raising payroll taxes or some combination of both.
The social trust fund isn’t so literal, but it depends on there being enough people to go around. As families shrink, there aren’t just fewer kids to take care of parents, there are also fewer nieces and nephews to lend a hand with an aunt or uncle, and fewer cousins to look in on each other. Just as each worker is called to support more seniors, each member of the rising generation may need to shoulder a greater range of care responsibilities. A 30-something may not be able to live close to everyone who needs her or have space to let more than one aging relative move in.
The time to work out a firmer footing for the Social Security Trust Fund is before the balance goes to zero. The moment to begin experimenting with new strategies for housing, home care and friendship is before this generation of “kinless” adults hits retirement.
Evocative language helps us treat the societal problem with appropriate urgency and attention, but it can do some good for the individual as well. Clinical, neutral descriptive language (“never married and [has] no children in the home”) can fall short of the decidedly un-neutral way members of the class feel about their future and its precarity.
Whatever the right word is, I think it will always feel a little unsettling and uncomfortable to contemplate. Aging without any clear person who is responsible for you can be a frightening prospect. More and more Americans will age into this particular form of isolation. There’s a tendency on the left to attempt to reduce stigma by finding more baroque terms of art (for example, “person experiencing houselessness” and “justice-impacted individual” instead of “homeless” and “ex-con”). Draining vividness from language may reduce negative associations, but it also removes the invitation to consider the starkness of the person’s need. Specific, colorful language is better at awakening both our cruelty and our charity.
The rise of kinlessness is both a symptom and an accelerant of the crumbling social structure that previously helped men and women meet and marry. Private disappointments make our polity more fragile as, on average, people’s circles of support get smaller. The first step of looking for a solution is naming the problem.