ThoughtsThe COVID-19 pandemic was more than a global health crisis—it was a social experiment that reshaped human behavior in profound and often unsettling ways. While the early days of lockdowns and uncertainty briefly sparked solidarity—think balcony singalongs, grocery runs for vulnerable neighbors, and nightly applause for healthcare workers—the long-term aftermath has revealed a darker shift. As societies emerged from isolation, many noticed a troubling trend: a marked increase in disrespect, impatience, and self-centeredness. From hostile confrontations over masks to viral videos of “Karens” berating service workers, public discourse and everyday interactions have grown coarser. This phenomenon isn’t merely anecdotal. Psychologists, sociologists, and economists have begun unpacking how years of stress, polarization, and disrupted norms have eroded empathy, leaving many people prioritizing their own needs—often at the expense of communal well-being.
Human societies function because of unwritten rules—the “social contracts” that dictate mutual respect, courtesy, and consideration. These norms, like holding doors, queuing patiently, or speaking politely to strangers, bind communities together. The pandemic, however, disrupted these agreements in unprecedented ways. Lockdowns isolated people for months, reducing opportunities to practice empathy through face-to-face interaction. Remote work and virtual schooling further atomized daily life, shrinking social circles and limiting exposure to diverse perspectives.
Over time, this isolation bred a kind of social atrophy. Without regular reinforcement, norms like patience and civility weakened. People grew accustomed to prioritizing their immediate comfort—whether through hoarding toilet paper, ignoring safety guidelines, or lashing out at minor inconveniences. A 2022 study in Nature Human Behaviour found that prolonged stress and uncertainty reduced prosocial behaviors, as survival instincts overshadowed communal values. This shift was evident in everyday scenarios: customers screaming at understaffed waitstaff, passengers refusing basic airline etiquette, and neighbors turning petty disputes into feuds. The pandemic didn’t create selfishness, but it amplified it by destabilizing the structures that keep selfish tendencies in check.
One of the pandemic’s most insidious legacies is the normalization of hyper-individualism—a mindset that elevates personal freedom and convenience above collective responsibility. This trend was catalyzed by polarized debates over masks, vaccines, and lockdowns, which framed public health measures as infringements on individual rights rather than acts of communal care. The result? A culture increasingly resistant to compromise or sacrifice.
For example, anti-mask and anti-vaccine movements often framed their arguments in terms of personal autonomy: “My body, my choice” became a rallying cry, divorcing individual actions from their societal consequences. This rhetoric seeped into broader attitudes. A 2023 Pew Research survey found that 65% of Americans believe people are “less kind now than before the pandemic,” with many attributing this to a “every person for themselves” mentality. Similarly, workplaces report a surge in “quiet quitting” and disengagement, as employees prioritize personal well-being over team cohesion—a trend that, while understandable given burnout, risks fostering transactional relationships.
Hyper-individualism also thrives in digital spaces. Social media algorithms, which reward outrage and self-promotion, deepened divides during the pandemic. People grew accustomed to voicing unfiltered opinions online, a habit that spilled into offline interactions. The anonymity of screens desensitized many to the impact of harsh words, normalizing confrontational communication styles.
The pandemic didn’t just politicize health—it weaponized difference. Mask-wearers vs. anti-maskers, vaccinated vs. unvaccinated, remote workers vs. essential employees: these binaries turned everyday choices into moral litmus tests. This “othering” made it easier to dehumanize those with differing views, fueling hostility. A 2021 study in Science Advances linked pandemic-related polarization to increased aggression, noting that people were quicker to attribute negative motives to strangers.
Service workers bore the brunt of this shift. Retail employees, flight attendants, and healthcare providers reported unprecedented levels of verbal and physical abuse. The American Psychological Association found that 60% of frontline workers experienced harassment in 2022, often from customers angered by policies like mask mandates or reduced hours. Such incidents reflect a broader devaluation of empathy: when individuals view others as obstacles to their comfort, respect becomes optional.
Financial instability during the pandemic also played a role. Job losses, inflation, and housing crises triggered a scarcity mindset—a psychological state where people focus on short-term survival, often at the expense of generosity. Behavioral economists have long noted that scarcity reduces cognitive bandwidth, making it harder to consider others’ needs.
This dynamic manifested in myriad ways: shoppers fighting over discounted goods, landlords evicting tenants despite moratoriums, and employees hoarding resources to safeguard their positions. A 2023 World Bank report highlighted that charitable donations dropped in many countries post-pandemic, even as need increased. Fear of instability bred a “hoard and protect” mentality, undermining communal trust.
Another factor is the decline of accountability in public spaces. With remote work reducing face-to-face oversight and online interactions rewarding impulsivity, people grew bolder in acting on selfish impulses. Road rage incidents surged by 56% in the U.S. between 2020 and 2023, per the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, while hate crimes and public disturbances spiked globally. Anonymity—whether behind car windows or Twitter handles—emboldened disrespect.
At the same time, institutions struggled to enforce norms. Police departments and schools, overwhelmed by pandemic-related challenges, often deprioritized “minor” infractions like public disruption or bullying. This created a vacuum where bad behavior faced fewer consequences, signaling that disrespect could go unchecked.
The erosion of respect and rise of selfishness are not irreversible, but addressing them requires intentional effort. Experts suggest several pathways:
The pandemic tested humanity’s capacity for collective action—and revealed how fragile our social fabric can be under strain. While the rise in disrespect and selfishness is alarming, it’s also a wake-up call. Empathy, like any skill, weakens without practice. Rebuilding it demands systemic support and individual commitment. By acknowledging how crisis reshaped behavior—and actively choosing kindness—we can counter the narrative of decline. After all, societies are not defined by their falls, but by how they rise after them.
The road to recovery isn’t just about vaccines or economic stimulus; it’s about repairing the invisible ties that bind us. In a world still grappling with the aftershocks of COVID-19, fostering respect may be the most vital healing of all.
