Will the Swedish ‘say hi’ campaign work in London? We put it to the test
Call it a defining contemporary paradox; Research shows that something many people have in common is…feeling alone.
Last week, the World Health Organization labeled loneliness a “global public health problem” that is as damaging to well-being as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. Whether caused by technology, economic conditions, or other factors, this “silent epidemic” would have consequences one in four from U.S.
Now the small town of Luleå in northern Sweden – a country with impeccably polite citizens, although generally not prone to eloquence – has taken the initiative to Say hey! (say hello!) campaign, with advertisements on buses and workplaces at schools that encourage residents to connect softly.
Åsa Koski, the municipal worker who came up with the idea, is convinced that even something so simple hey from a stranger can make people feel ‘seen’.
But how would such behavior play out on the seemingly impersonal, busy streets of central London?
It’s an inauspicious start as I walk confidently past a group of gossiping teenagers near St. Pancras station and shout a cheerful “hi!” say, and I’m met with a mix of backlash, pity, and disgust. Then a woman, halfway through her sandwich, almost hisses as she approaches.
Fortunately, the spirits are lifted by the dapper Simon Reichwald, who sits on a bench and scrolls on his phone in nearby Granary Square. When I pass by and say an enthusiastic “hello!” Say, he looks up for a moment and answers my greeting with a rather perplexed smile.
I walk back and explain about the Swedish initiative. “It’s undoubtedly a good thing,” he says. Simon works in social enterprise and is concerned with breaking down barriers. But to say hello to a stranger in this setting? “Unusual, I thought,” he admits. “But it would be nice if people did that more.” If it hadn’t been for work emails, he says, he might have moved on.
The health continues with Alex, 23, a student, and his friend Neve, 25, who works in publishing. Despite my chipper hello interrupting their conversation in full swing, the pair respond with a tentative “hello.” Neve tells me her only concern was whether she had “accidentally given me a dirty look” as she squinted into the afternoon sun.
They are both pro-hello, although Alex points out the potential for misunderstandings. He assumed that a random hello from a stranger meant “they think you’re someone else.” There are also concerns about safety and personal space. But neither of them thinks it’s strange behavior.
People outside London, and especially those in Neve’s native Northern Ireland, she says, are more likely to start a real conversation. Alex offers me chips.
Outside of Light room exhibition space in Coal Drops Yard, Nikita, 24, a work of art, admires a photo of the Apollo moon landing. I take a big leap for humanity and walk between her and the hoarding with an almost rapturous, “Hello there!”. She answers with a cheerful hello and then looks over her shoulder as I continue walking. “I did wonder,” she says, “if I was just in your way.”
Nikita, a born Londoner, describes herself as a trusting and open person and supports the idea of the Swedes. “I once went to a Meetup event,” she says, referring to the social media site that organizes real life hangouts. It wasn’t that she was lonely, she says, but that “it’s good to get out of your comfort zone and try new things.”
In other words: it is indeed worth it say hey.