In recent weeks, a transatlantic row between Donald Trump and Pope Leo XIV has brought an old question back into sharp focus: what role, if any, should religion play in public life? For some, particularly among Trump’s supporters, religious leaders should refrain from commenting on political decisions altogether. For others, the Pope’s more measured response – that his role is not to intervene in partisan disputes but to speak to moral questions, including those raised by public policy – has struck a chord.
This debate is not confined to the United States. In Britain – and particularly in Scotland – there is a prevailing assumption that public life should be largely secular. Religious perspectives are often treated with suspicion, or at times dismissed outright. During debates such as those surrounding assisted dying, objections are frequently characterised as ‘religious’, as though that alone weakens their legitimacy. Yet the resonance of Pope Leo’s remarks suggests a more complicated picture: that many people, across political divides, still see value in moral voices that sit outside formal political structures.
This raises a broader and more constructive question. Rather than asking whether religion should be excluded from the public square, we might ask what it can contribute – particularly at a time when many societies are grappling with deep social challenges, not least loneliness.
It is in this context that Logos Scotland has published its recent report, Seen and Known: Rebuilding Belonging in Modern Scotland. The report focuses on loneliness as one of the defining social issues of our time, and in doing so makes a valuable contribution to an ongoing and often underdeveloped debate.
One of its most important interventions is conceptual. Loneliness is frequently conflated with physical isolation, yet the report challenges this assumption. Solitude, after all, can be chosen and even beneficial. Loneliness, by contrast, is better understood as an emotional state: the experience of disconnection, even when surrounded by others. This distinction may seem straightforward, but it has significant implications. If loneliness is not simply about being alone, then policy responses that focus solely on increasing social contact risk missing the point.
The report also highlights a striking demographic trend: loneliness appears to be particularly acute among those aged 16 to 34. This challenges the common perception that loneliness is primarily an issue affecting older people, and suggests that any serious attempt to address it must engage with the experiences of younger generations. In that sense, the report does not offer a definitive conclusion, but rather provides a framework that should inform discussion across political institutions, local government and civil society.
When it comes to explaining the causes of rising loneliness, the report advances a number of broad, macro-level observations. These include the decline of religious practice and a cultural shift towards more individualistic, competitive modes of thinking. These claims are open to debate, and should be treated as part of a wider conversation rather than settled conclusions. Other factors – globalisation, changes in family structure, the growth of the digital economy, economic insecurity – are also likely to play a role. Nevertheless, the report’s analysis is valuable in that it challenges more superficial explanations and encourages a deeper examination of the social conditions that shape human connection.
There are, however, areas where its arguments would benefit from further scrutiny. One such area is the relationship between public infrastructure and loneliness. The report points to the closure of local buildings, often attributed to austerity, as a contributing factor. There is some truth in this, but the picture is more complex. In my experience as a councillor, declining usage has also played a significant role. This raises a chicken-and-egg question: do closures lead to declining participation, or does declining participation lead to closures? The answer is likely to be a combination of both.
More importantly, it prompts further questions. Why has usage declined in the first place? Possible explanations include changes in work patterns, the rise of digital entertainment, concerns about public safety and broader shifts in how people choose to spend their time. These are not easily disentangled, but they are crucial to understanding the problem in a meaningful way.
A similar complexity arises in the report’s discussion of political centralisation. It suggests that decision-making has become too remote, weakening local capacity to respond to context-specific challenges such as loneliness. Again, there is merit in this observation. Local actors are often best placed to understand the needs of their communities. Yet the issue is not simply one of central versus local control. The internal structures of local government themselves can be part of the problem.
Scottish councils, like many political institutions, operate within adversarial frameworks that prioritise administration versus opposition. While this has its place, it can also limit the scope for collaborative, in-depth engagement with complex social issues. If loneliness is as multifaceted as the report suggests, then addressing it may require institutional cultures that are less focused on short-term political contestation and more oriented towards sustained, collective problem-solving. That, however, is a much larger question – one that extends well beyond the scope of a single report.
All of this points to a more fundamental insight: there are limits to what politics alone can achieve. Public policy can shape the conditions in which people live – housing, employment, public services – but it cannot directly generate a sense of belonging, purpose or love. These are not outcomes that can be legislated into existence. At best, political institutions can create an environment in which they are more likely to flourish.
It is here that the report’s engagement with religion becomes particularly relevant. Rather than presenting faith as a policy tool, it points to the ways in which religious traditions, and Christianity in particular, can contribute to the deeper dimensions of human wellbeing. The language that emerged in my mind when reading the report – stability, love, purpose and hope – is not easily translated into policy frameworks, yet it speaks to experiences that are central to the question of loneliness.
From a Christian perspective, these concepts are not abstract ideals but are rooted in a particular understanding of the human person. The belief that each individual is created and loved by God can provide a sense of inherent worth that is not contingent on social status or achievement. This, in turn, can foster a sense of purpose and resilience, particularly in the face of difficulty. Regular participation in communal practices, such as church attendance, can also create rhythms of belonging that extend beyond immediate social circles.
None of this is to suggest that religion offers a simple or exclusive solution. Strong families, voluntary organisations, meaningful work and stable living conditions all play vital roles in shaping a sense of connection. Nor is it to deny that religious institutions themselves face challenges, including declining participation and questions of relevance in a changing society. But to exclude religion from the conversation altogether would be to overlook a potentially significant source of social and moral capital.
What Logos Scotland has done is not to provide all the answers, but to ask a set of questions that are both timely and necessary. In doing so, it has opened up a space for more serious reflection on the nature of loneliness and the kinds of responses it demands. One need not agree with every aspect of its analysis to recognise the value of that contribution.
At a time when public debate can often become polarised or superficial, there is merit in work that seeks to deepen our understanding of complex social issues. Loneliness is not a problem that will yield to quick fixes or single solutions. It requires a willingness to engage with both material conditions and the less tangible aspects of human life. In that regard, the re-emergence of religion as a participant in public discourse may not be a problem to be managed, but an opportunity to be considered more carefully.
