Meaningful social connection—especially with people we can be ourselves around, people we can call on in times of need—is a basic human need.

But just like these other needs, if left unmet for long periods of time, there are serious social, emotional, and health consequences.

Prolonged loneliness, for example, is associated with an increased risk of depression, addiction, anxiety, heart disease, dementia, sleep disturbances, and even premature death.

We might assume this mostly affects older New Zealanders, but research shows it is our youth that are feeling the most disconnected.

They are up to four-and-a-half times more likely to experience prolonged loneliness than older New Zealanders.

Sole parents and unemployed people also have relatively higher rates of loneliness.

Loneliness is no different to hunger or thirst; a signal from our bodies that we need something

Job losses, physical distancing, and general emotional uncertainty surrounding COVID-19 have only made things worse.

Before the lockdown last year, around 3.5 percent of New Zealanders were feeling lonely—a small but significant minority.

During the lockdown this rate rose to around 11 percent, settling to about 9 percent afterwards.

Youth rates are higher: around 20 percent felt lonely during lockdown, only dropping to 17 percent afterwards.

There has clearly been a post-pandemic relational toll; the new normal is lonelier than before.

Other countries have put loneliness squarely on the policy table.

In 2018, the United Kingdom government led the way, recognising this as a policy issue years ago with a Minister of Loneliness working on a "Loneliness Strategy" aimed at increasing data collection, front-line mental health workers, and funding community projects to name a few responses.

Earlier this year the Japanese Government appointed a new Minister responsible for alleviating loneliness and social isolation.

Whether we appoint a Minister or not, we must follow suit.

We cannot afford to ignore the cost of loneliness and isolation on society.

But it's not easy area to make ground. Years in, the UK Government is only just getting the measures and strategies bedded in.

Governments are great at many things, but relational connection is not one of them.

Just because loneliness is of policy interest doesn't mean Government can alleviate it alone.

We all have a role to play in pursuing a New Zealand where we all belong.

In a recently-released book by the U.S Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy on loneliness, his recommendations had surprisingly little to do with policy settings.

Simple things like devoting time to spend with loved ones, focusing attention and avoiding multi-tasking when relating, and serving others wherever we can form the foundation of a response.

Policy-wise, keeping the economy afloat with people in jobs and supporting those out of work will make a difference here, but above and beyond this economic response, this is a policy area where the Government is best set to coordinate an overarching strategy and to fund, support and protect community organisations with human faces and open arms for those struggling with loneliness.

We all have a role to play in pursuing a New Zealand where we all belong.

• Kieran Madden is Maxim Institute's Research Manager, leading and guiding our research programme.
• First published by the Maxim Institute. Republished with permission.

"This is your home," wrote a Wellington artist, and "you should have been safe here."

But the flowers will, eventually, wither away. It is up to us to make sure that when they do, what they represent will endure. That all New Zealanders will not only feel at home here, but be safe, regardless of their race or religion.

Already, we are seeing how an evil act has been met with love, how the precious lives lost have brought us closer together—how our hearts have broken yet our bonds of aroha stronger than ever before.

Our Prime Minister has been a shining light amidst the darkness, radiating both strength and compassion in equal brilliance.

Her leadership has been a salve and shoulder to those mourning, and, I believe, will help hasten the healing of our collective wounds.

Our scars, however, will remain.

We must continue as we have begun. We cannot live as if these scars don't exist going about life how we did before, but most importantly, we must not respond in a spirit of fear.

For fear is the ultimate motivation of this attack—the white supremacist ideology fueled by terror, ignited by hate, and justified by ignorance.

The deepest ignorance is the desecration of human dignity, the idea that some humans aren't as inherently valuable as others.

That, certainly, is not "us."

But Brenton Tarrant is also not a nameless monster who came from nowhere, an anomaly we can shake our hands from.

He was alone during his attack, yes, but spurred on by the howls of faceless others in shadowy corners of the web—some, assuredly, logging on in our own country.

He isn't mentally unwell, just extremely deluded.

And just because he didn't grow up here, doesn't make this not our problem.

He is human too—and in that sense part of "us"—and the moment we begin to dehumanise and distance ourselves from this, we are falling right into his trap.

We must paradoxically be vulnerable ourselves by seeking and cherishing relationships with those who are different to us

We need to seek to understand so we can prevent others doing the same.

This is New Zealand now, and us is a diverse group.

Views must be confronted, not shut out and ignored.

We must get serious about so-called casual racism, and at the same time ensure reasonable democratic debate around issues like immigration and national values are not silenced.

Policies like banning semi-automatic weapons and cracking down on irresponsible social media giants will make our shores less vulnerable to hate.

But to be a true stronghold, we must paradoxically be vulnerable ourselves by seeking and cherishing relationships with those who are different to us—kanohi ki te kanohi: face to face. A nation marked by these encounters will never be overcome by terror and division.

The flowers will wither and the scars will remain.

We must honour those who lost their lives and defy the ideas of the man that took them by fervently seeking to uphold and protect human dignity in Aotearoa New Zealand.

• First published by the Maxim Institute.
• Kieran Madden joined Maxim Institute as a researcher in 2012 after graduating with a Master of Public Policy from the Crawford School of Economics and Government at the Australian National University.
• Image: Maxim Institute