But the landscape of the contemporary UK is different: high rent, banks reprimanded for irresponsible mortgage lending, university fees, inhibitive care costs at both ends of the age spectrum. Additionally, we wonder how we reduce our carbon footprints, and, even before COVID-19, the nation had concerns about loneliness and social isolation. With all these considerations, it is not surprising, maybe, that last year an estimated 1.8 million[i] of us had returned to the more traditional inter-generational model of family and were reporting enjoying the benefits of:

• being able to live in a house we couldn’t otherwise afford
• saving on utility bills
• reducing fees for care of older and younger members of the family

Significantly, those opting to live the intergenerational way also mention many social and emotional advantages. Stressed parents with long hours report that having more hands to share day-to-day tasks brought them relief not only from the stress, but from the guilt. And then there’s the wealth of experience of having 2 adult generations under one roof that builds overall resilience for a household during periods of upheaval, stress or breakdown. Over the period of lockdown where families have had to make the choice between not seeing each other at all, or moving in together for the duration, many have chosen the latter and, whilst there are inevitable difficulties in adjusting, exposure of one generation to another may also be helping us develop empathy for different life-experiences. Let’s face it – for most of our 120,000 years as a species, our natural way of living has been to form extended families where we pool our resources and share the responsibility for child rearing.

Having said that, the pandemic’s prompt for us to return to more traditional communal living isn’t necessarily the “blessing in disguise”[ii] being experienced by some. Yes, some of us may dream of putting the brakes on the relentless pursuit of individual gain that has come about since we abandoned our nomadic ways to become settled tribes. But the ethos that sustained the communal sharing in our hunter-gatherer history is not called fierce egalitarianism for no reason. The fierceness being the extent of the social taboo around a member seen to not be sharing. And we’re not just talking food here. We’re talking socially obligated sharing of time, objects, crafts, skills, knowledge, stories… And while lack not just of individual possessions but of privacy may have been typical for our ancestors, it isn’t something that translates easily into our modern culture. Especially when, as with the lockdown, we haven’t had time to prepare for the transition.

Those living in inter-generational families both before and since lockdown report varied difficulties. Inadequate privacy is one of the most frequently cited, especially in terms of feeling unable to have a good old row with a partner for fear of being overheard by other adults in the house. And, whilst at its best, living with different points of view can increase empathy, at its worst we can feel caught in ever escalating intolerance, particularly at this time when there is lack of certainty about the end point of social and work restrictions. Intolerance within a generation is clearly possible, but perhaps even more so across generations, when people are at different life stages. How far, for example, can a household accommodate the opposing circadian rhythms of adolescent grandchild and older grandparent? Especially in a property that hasn’t had time to be set up for these demands. A teenager’s body doesn’t release the sleep hormone melatonin until much later than a mature adult’s, meaning they’re wide awake late into the night and sleepy until mid-day. Whereas in older age our biological changes tend to make us early risers. On a practical level this may make for a handy shift pattern in bathroom, kitchen and broadband use! But also raises the issue of noise disturbance at inconvenient times, and agitation at the differing needs we may have.

And it’s not just the hormonal differentials that might lead to lack of understanding. Psychologists Joan and Erik Erikson would maybe point out how different generations have different existential stuff they are concentrating on getting to grips with. They claimed that, as we progress through life, we have different psychosocial crises to face. So, whilst a teenager might be experimenting with finding their identity and morality, a young adult in the same household might be trying to negotiate how to manage intimacy and avoid isolation. Meanwhile a middle-aged adult under that same roof might be debating how far they feel their life has stagnated. And a fellow housemate over 60 might be preoccupied by reflecting on the extent of their unachieved goals. Having negotiated the psychosocial challenges of earlier life, older generations could theoretically support the younger ones. But, even putting aside how each person’s challenge is unique to themself, inevitably, having become competent in a skill, it’s only too easy for us to forget that we weren’t always that capable. Though, perhaps one aspect of the consequences of this pandemic is that we are arguably all facing the existential challenges together of adjusting to ‘heightened sense of risk, reduced sense of control’.

We yearn for control, including control of our private time. It’s hard to tell how our expectation of privacy has grown out of the nuclear family, and how far the nuclear family developed in response to a desire for privacy. And, to muddy those waters more, whilst intergenerational families are on the rise in Caucasian UK families, British Asians, who have a heritage of intergenerational living, are increasingly opting to live in nuclear homes[iii].

Many modern Asian, Central and South American, and African cultures, like our shared ancestors, tend to be COLLECTIVIST, meaning that interdependence and the good of the family/society takes precedent over individual goals or wants. In modern collectivist societies, there is often a greater tolerance for power differences than in non-collectivist societies so the principle of respect is highly valued. The discipline of psychology and of “Talking Therapy” has been most prominently shaped, however, in INDIVIDUALISTIC cultures, found in Europe and North America. In these cultures, people often strive for independence and prioritise the autonomy of the individual over duty to the collective, hence a therapist will often work with a client to identify their individual needs, and where they are being satisfied. With a lower tolerance for differences in power in individualistic cultures, the “likeability” of another becomes important to co-operation. Of course, this isn’t to say that no-one in a collectivist culture doesn’t get annoyed with always feeling like they have to be a “good citizen”, or that people in individualistic cultures can’t find themself studying for a profession predominantly to “make their family proud”! And certainly in the case of the recent COVID-19 pandemic, we see that both individualistic and collectivist societies are prepared to sacrifice some of our own liberty in order to maintain the well-being of the wider society.

Both on a national and a household level, UK families are challenging features of our individualistic culture in order to make their intergenerational household work, especially in terms of embracing interdependence. A significant minority of UK households were moving towards this model prior to the pandemic. The key to success these families identified was feeling that they had a “degree of choice in the arrangements”[iv]. And choice is something many people are feeling deprived of in significant ways right now, which may well be making it harder to live in a lockdown “pop-up” inter-generational family. A way to adapt that key to success may be, therefore, seeking opportunities within these enforced households to offer each other choice in the little things where we can.

Research does suggest other things that can make it easier to share our space with other adult generations. These include:

• Developing awareness of the life stages we are each in and respecting that, although the pandemic may be prompting us all to contemplate “Who am I?”, “What is my purpose?”, “How will I be remembered?” that these questions are weighted differently at different life-stages.

• Negotiating actions by talking through not just what “my need” and “your need” is, but also by considering what the “family’s need” is.

• Agreeing boundaries not just in terms of physical space, but also emotional needs. When does each person in the house function and communicate at their best? And when do they need down time or to be alone?

• Recognising other adults in the household as adults, even though they may biologically be our parent or our offspring.

• Regularly, consciously and possibly communally recalling the benefits of the decision to  share our space. As humans we are predisposed to notice the disadvantages, it’s good to counter-balance them sometimes where we can.

As a social species we inevitably fluctuate between wanting to know we belong to a collective and our need to express our individuality. The current pandemic is a good reminder of how our contexts influence the degree to which we feel each of those needs at any given time. And is perhaps a useful reminder of the non-static nature of what we identify “family” to be”.

1. www.cchpr.landecon.cam.ac.uk
2. www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-52121697
3. www.ons.gov.uk
4. www.cchpr.landecon.cam.ac.uk

Other sources

www.neurologytimes.com/blog/teenage-circadian-rhythm

www.theguardian.com/society/2019/mar/10/rise-of-multigenerational-family-living