I lament the state of the world like I assume most of you do. It’s truly heartbreaking to read—and even more so to watch—the news. It might leave you to conclude that human nature itself is awful and even evil. But nothing could be further from the truth says Rutger Bregman in his amazingly hopeful book Humankind.
BREGMAN’S THESIS
Bregman’s central thesis is simple, but would be perceived as radical in today’s world: that people are, at their core, decent. They’re not perfect—but they’re kind, cooperative, and naturally seek social connection. But almost every institution we interact with operates on the opposite belief: that humans are essentially selfish, lazy, and in need of constant control.
TODAY’S WORLDVIEW
And that pervasive belief provides a distorted lens though which society is viewed and views itself.
In the corporate world, it results in toxic management practices, dehumanizing performance metrics, mass layoffs justified as “strategic,” and a relentless pursuit of shareholder value at the expense of workers, communities, and the planet. Employees are often treated not as trusted team members, but as potential unmotivated workers who must be surveilled, micromanaged, or automated out of existence.
We need look no further than the current U.S. political environment. The prevailing style of governance feeds on fear—of others, of institutions, even of democracy itself. It thrives on division, suspicion, and distrust. If people are assumed to be self-interested and dangerous, then democracy becomes a liability—and authoritarianism becomes justifiable. This narrative fuels crackdowns on protest, vilification of immigrants, and deliberate disinformation campaigns.
But this isn’t just an American problem. Around the world, similar dynamics are playing out—from nationalist movements in Europe to autocratic crackdowns in parts of Asia and South America. In each case, leaders exploit the idea that humans are inherently selfish and untrustworthy to justify centralizing power, dismantling protections for civil society, and scapegoating vulnerable groups. It’s a worldview that excuses control instead of inviting cooperation—and I believe it has enabled the rise of several of today’s political figures who are actively undermining both people and the planet.
BREGMAN’S REANALYSIS
But here’s where Humankind is most powerful: Bregman take a critical deep look into the seminal studies and media coverage of world events that gave us this negative view of humanity.
SEMINAL PSYCHOLOGY STUDIES
He takes aim at the very studies that shaped our understanding of human nature, including some of psychology’s most famous experiments. He reveals how the Stanford Prison Experiment and Milgram’s obedience studies—often cited as proof of humanity’s cruelty and blind conformity—were fundamentally flawed. Both ignored contradictory findings, used manipulated or coerced conditions, and were shaped by experimenters who encouraged the very behaviors they claimed to “discover.” These weren’t neutral insights into human nature; they were contrived dramas that made for great headlines and career boosts—but terrible science.
I find it deeply disturbing that psychologists like Philip Zimbardo and Stanley Milgram gained fame by promoting these narratives. Their studies didn’t simply reflect a misunderstanding of people—they actively shaped it. Millions have since accepted the idea that we are inherently cruel or corruptible, because the science said so. But as Bregman shows, the real science says otherwise.
DISASTER MYTHS
He also dismantles widespread myths about human behavior during disasters—the assumption that people panic, loot, or turn on each other when things fall apart. He shares example after example—from the London Blitz to Hurricane Katrina to the aftermath of 9/11—where people didn’t descend into chaos. Instead, they rose to the occasion. They formed mutual aid groups, shared food and shelter, helped strangers, and built community. Yet the media coverage and government responses often fixate on fear and control. Policymakers prepare for the worst in people instead of trusting the best. Bregman argues that this has real consequences: when you assume people are dangerous, you treat them as such—and they begin to believe it themselves.
THE REALITY IN WAR
Bregman also brings attention to the realities of warfare that challenge the assumption of innate human violence. Historically, studies have shown that many soldiers, when placed in combat situations, go to great lengths to avoid killing—even when directly ordered to do so. In both World Wars, a significant percentage of soldiers intentionally fired above the enemy or found ways to avoid pulling the trigger, such as loudly reloading their rifles without actually engaging. This reluctance to kill underscores a profound psychological and moral barrier: when people encounter others face-to-face, empathy often overrides aggression. But this dynamic begins to break down with distance and dehumanization. Military leaders issuing commands from afar, or drone operators detached from the human consequences of their actions, are far more likely to carry out or order lethal violence. The greater the distance—physically, psychologically, or institutionally—the easier it becomes to suppress our innate aversion to harm.
ACTION AND CONSEQUENCE MORAL DISTANCE
In addition to the experiences in war, Bregman also draws attention to other modern systems that obscure responsibility and erode empathy by creating moral distance between action and consequence. Nowhere is this clearer than in the world of industrial animal agriculture. While many consumers are shielded from the violence required to produce their food, slaughterhouse workers bear the psychological burden. Studies have shown that these workers often suffer from symptoms akin to post-traumatic stress—what some researchers call Perpetration-Induced Traumatic Stress (PITS)—because their jobs force them to suppress innate human compassion in order to carry out repeated acts of killing. This moral dissonance isn’t just harmful to the animals; it deeply wounds the people involved as well. Bregman argues that when systems demand the suppression of our better instincts, it’s not a reflection of human nature—it’s a distortion of it. In a world that often incentivizes detachment and dehumanization, he urges us to recognize the cost and to reimagine systems that are aligned with empathy, not in conflict with it.
BYSTANDER APATHY
One of the most enduring stories used to support the idea that people are indifferent or apathetic is the 1964 murder of Kitty Genovese in New York City. For decades, it was cited in psychology textbooks as a prime example of the “bystander effect”—the claim that 38 witnesses saw or heard the attack and did nothing. But Bregman revisits more recent investigations that reveal this narrative was largely false. Many of the supposed witnesses didn’t realize what was happening, several did intervene or call the police, and one even held Genovese in her final moments. The original story, sensationalized by the media and amplified by academics, served to reinforce the belief that people turn a blind eye to others in distress. In truth, the case illustrates how misleading reporting and oversimplified theories can shape our view of human nature—and how that view can be profoundly wrong.
Rethinking How We Lead, Work, and Govern
It means we must rethink leadership—not as command and control, but as trust and service. We must design workplaces and communities that assume people want to contribute, not coast. We must build governments and institutions that share power rather than hoard it. And we must resist political movements built on fear, by insisting on a more compassionate, evidence-based view of who we really are.
Bregman reminds us that the future isn’t predetermined—it’s shaped by the stories we tell about ourselves. And right now, many of the stories we’ve accepted as “truth” are deeply misleading. If we want to create a better world, we need to start by changing the narrative. And even to simply change our worldview—to not focus as much on what evil leaders are doing but instead on the decency of everyone else. And to realize and try to foster direct interactions with one another rather than relying solely on technology-mediated ones (especially ones that are anonymous) that tend to dehumanize interactions.
So maybe the first step is this simple: Believe in people again.