Introduction
Summary of the book Humankind by Rutger Bregman. Before we start, let’s delve into a short overview of the book. Imagine for a moment that everything you have been told about people being selfish and cruel is not actually true. What if, hidden beneath the scary headlines and sensational stories, humans are mostly kind and caring? Many of us grow up hearing that when disasters strike or wars erupt, people become monsters who only look out for themselves. Yet, what if real evidence shows the opposite? Consider how in emergencies, neighbors help each other, strangers share resources, and communities grow stronger. This might sound surprising, but modern science, history, and everyday life examples suggest that our nature leans more toward cooperation than conflict. If this idea feels strange, you are not alone. We have long believed a tale about humans being nasty at heart. But what if that tale is not accurate? To discover the truth, dive into these chapters and explore a more hopeful view of humanity.
Chapter 1: Unexpected Bonds Formed in the Firestorms of History’s Deadliest War Air Attacks.
Picture the city of London during the darkest days of World War II, when German bombers soared overhead, dropping explosives meant to shatter the spirit of an entire nation. Many leaders, influenced by old ideas, believed that under such terror, ordinary people would turn into savage, selfish creatures. They expected chaos, panic, and widespread violence as citizens desperately fought for their own survival. This view suggested that, when pushed to their limits, humans would abandon kindness and show their true barbaric side. Psychologists and politicians who spread these ideas relied on outdated beliefs, claiming that deep within us lies a beast waiting to break free. With bombs raining down, Londoners were expected to collapse under fear, tear each other apart for bread or shelter, and prove that humanity’s true nature was ruthless and cold-hearted.
Yet what happened in reality was something few anticipated. Instead of fighting over scraps or turning against one another, Londoners remained remarkably calm and cooperative. Neighbors helped neighbors, strangers offered comfort, and people adapted to this intense hardship by supporting each other. Shelters filled with individuals who sang songs, exchanged warm smiles, and helped calm frightened children. There were no massive riots or moral breakdowns; instead, there was a surprising sense of unity. The British even found themselves mentally tougher during these raids. Far from spiraling into madness, they discovered new strengths, forming bonds that would have seemed unlikely in peaceful times. This unexpected outcome challenged the long-held belief that people become animals under stress and forced many to reconsider what human nature is really like.
The resilience displayed by Londoners was not simply a matter of stiff upper lips or legendary British courage. Similar responses have been seen in other cities and countries facing large-scale disasters. When confronted with bombs, hurricanes, earthquakes, or other disasters, ordinary people often draw closer together. They share meals, comfort the wounded, and strive to rebuild what has been lost. Instead of violence spreading, solidarity takes root. The old theory that fear and desperation transform us into monsters just did not hold up. The real story is about everyday heroes, kind neighbors, and communities working hand in hand during unimaginable hardships. Such examples break through the gloomy narrative that we are all born beasts and suggest that something deeper and better lies at our core.
This realization is crucial because it shows that the idea of human beings turning savage under pressure is not as universal as once believed. Historical facts, eyewitness accounts, and scholarly studies highlight that when darkness falls, we often find unexpected light in each other’s company. This truth is not limited to a single city or era. Time and time again, real-life events have proven that the human heart, despite fear and uncertainty, can remain generous, helpful, and even joyful in the face of great danger. Understanding this forces us to ask: have we misunderstood ourselves all along? Perhaps we are not barely held in check by rules and laws. Perhaps, when the world grows scary, many of us become more caring, not less.
Chapter 2: Long-Standing Myths Claim That Selfishness Hides Behind Our Smiles and Handshakes.
For centuries, humans have clung to a dark story about themselves. According to this old tale, at our core, we are selfish creatures who only behave kindly because we fear punishment or hope for a reward. Like stage actors forced to follow a script, we supposedly do good deeds not out of genuine concern, but because we want to avoid trouble or gain something. Deep down, or so the myth goes, we are rotten. We only pretend to be nice because of laws, police forces, and other rules that keep our nasty desires in check. From classical philosophers to modern news pundits, countless voices have insisted that selfishness is the default setting of the human soul, waiting to erupt the moment that society’s watchful eye looks away.
Yet if we look closely at real-life catastrophes, something unexpected emerges: people often become more helpful, compassionate, and caring after disasters. Researchers at disaster response centers have studied how communities react following hurricanes, earthquakes, and floods. Their findings show that cooperation, mutual aid, and peaceful behavior become more common than before. Far from slipping into lawless chaos, people come together to share food, clothes, and shelter. They clear roads, rescue strangers, and comfort those who have lost everything. Such examples do not match the idea that humans are driven by pure self-interest. If our core nature was truly nasty, wouldn’t we see widespread theft, violence, and deceit whenever conditions become difficult?
Despite the evidence, the myth remains powerful. Even when researchers present facts demonstrating that most people return a lost wallet, or that communities pull together during crises, many still refuse to believe it. We find it hard to accept that goodness might be normal. Deep inside, many people suspect that any act of kindness must hide a secret motive. They think, Surely that person helped their neighbor because they wanted something in return. Even when statistics show that people behave honestly and with concern for others, our minds cling to a darker explanation. This stubborn negativity might come from centuries of storytelling, from newspapers that highlight the worst events, or from literature that depicts society as a fragile mask, easily torn away.
This tendency to doubt goodness is not just a silly habit; it affects how we structure our societies. If we assume people are bad, we build systems that control, punish, and restrict. We fill our minds with fear and suspicion, trust fewer neighbors, and push our communities apart. By believing the myth of selfishness, we create conditions that make distrust feel normal. To move forward, we must recognize the evidence right in front of us. The world is full of people doing kind, courageous, and generous things, especially when times are tough. Understanding this can help us reshape how we think about each other, how we design laws, and how we form friendships. Maybe we are not wearing masks of kindness. Maybe kindness is who we truly are.
Chapter 3: Floods of Negative News Stories Shape a Distorted Image of Human Hearts.
Turn on your TV, open a news site, or scroll through social media, and what do you see? Crime, violence, disasters, and scandals fill the screens. It’s as if the world is full of never-ending suffering and cruelty. But consider what makes the news. Journalists and media outlets often focus on rare and shocking events, not everyday acts of kindness. You won’t see headlines about neighbors helping neighbors or about a day that passed without any major tragedy. The media’s job is to grab attention, and what grabs attention is often the unusual and terrible, not the peaceful and good. This endless stream of negative stories feeds the old myth that people are basically bad, leaving us with a gloomy, twisted image of reality.
Think of this constant negative news as a kind of harmful potion, filling our minds with dread and doubt. Psychologists call something similar the nocebo effect, where expecting bad outcomes can make you feel worse, much like expecting good outcomes can help you heal. Continual exposure to stories of cruelty and dishonesty leads us to assume these traits are everywhere. It’s easy to become convinced that behind every face lies a threat. Even fictional stories, such as certain famous novels, show children turning into beasts when rules disappear. These stories strengthen the belief that human nature is dark and dangerous. But remember, these are just stories. Reality often tells a different tale, one filled with cooperation and kindness, especially when life gets hard.
Consider what happens when we challenge these gloomy narratives. A famous book described a group of boys stranded on an island descending into savagery. Yet, when we look at a true story of boys stranded in the Pacific Ocean, we find they cooperated, maintained a steady fire, helped each other survive, and stayed friends long after being rescued. This real event is rarely mentioned in our culture. Instead, we honor the frightening tale that supports the idea of human wickedness. It’s like choosing a horror movie over a hopeful documentary, even if the documentary is more accurate. When the truth is positive, it often fails to catch our attention, and thus we remain stuck in an endless loop of scary illusions.
This pattern matters, because how we see ourselves and others influences how we live. If we believe the world is full of selfish people, we become more guarded, suspicious, and untrusting. We might miss opportunities to help and be helped. We might lose out on meaningful connections that can make life richer. Instead of building friendships, we build fences. Instead of greeting strangers with open minds, we greet them with fear. To break this cycle, we must recognize that the media is not always a fair mirror. It distorts, zooming in on rare horrors and hiding ordinary goodness. By questioning the endless negative headlines and looking for real-life examples of cooperation, we can start to correct our vision and see the kindness that often goes unnoticed.
Chapter 4: Peeling Back Centuries of Assumptions to Reveal Humanity’s Kinder Core Within.
For a long time, great thinkers have debated whether we are good or bad by nature. Some, like the philosopher Thomas Hobbes, argued that without governments and laws, humans would fight one another constantly, living in a brutal war of all against all. This grim view painted people as violent creatures kept in line only by strict rules. Over time, this idea seeped into our culture, shaping how we think about ourselves. But what if Hobbes was wrong? What if these famous ideas were based on shaky evidence or misunderstood facts?
In recent years, scientists from many fields—archaeology, anthropology, psychology—have revisited ancient bones, old cave paintings, and the daily habits of groups still living close to nature. Their findings suggest that our prehistoric ancestors did not spend their days in violent battles. Instead, they often lived in small, tight-knit communities that valued sharing and cooperation. If we see fewer signs of massive wars before the dawn of settled farming communities, maybe the roots of large-scale violence are not in our original nature.
Some early studies that seemed to show constant conflict among indigenous tribes were later found to be flawed. For example, giving people weapons during field research and then observing their behavior is hardly a neutral experiment! Also, statistics claiming that many prehistoric humans died from violence do not always stand up to careful scrutiny. Most skeletons showing violent injuries come from times after humans settled down and started competing over farmland and resources. Before this era, conflicts were rarer, smaller in scale, and not the central feature of human life.
This new understanding challenges us to reconsider stories about our past. If humans were not born to rage and rampage, if our ancestors thrived through cooperation and trust, then the old idea that we are cruel savages just waiting for rules to slip might be a myth. Maybe we have been telling ourselves frightening stories about our nature, ignoring more positive truths. By clearing away these dusty old assumptions, we can make room for a more accurate picture of who we are—and this new picture might be far more hopeful than we ever imagined.
Chapter 5: Nature Chose Soft Faces and Warm Hearts Over Brutal Strength Long Ago.
One way to understand how humanity evolved is to look in the mirror—literally. Compared to our ancient ancestors, our faces appear softer, friendlier, and more expressive. Scientists believe this domestication of our own species was not random. Over thousands of years, the individuals who cooperated better, empathized more, and trusted others were more likely to survive and have children. Kindness and cooperation were advantages in a world where people depended on each other for food, shelter, and safety.
This idea is sometimes summed up as survival of the friendliest, rather than survival of the fittest. While we often imagine evolution as a competition favoring the biggest and meanest, the truth may be quite different. Groups that worked well together could share knowledge, develop better tools, and adapt more quickly. Their children grew up learning from others, building on previous generations’ successes. Over time, these qualities became part of who we are, shaping our brains, our bodies, and our cultures.
Our social nature is visible in more than just our faces. Humans are unique among primates for having whites of the eyes that are clearly visible. This makes it easier to follow someone’s gaze, understand their intentions, and coordinate tasks. We might not be the fastest runners or the strongest fighters, but we’re exceptionally good at reading each other’s emotions, working together on complex projects, and learning from one another. Even human babies are better at social learning than many adult apes, highlighting just how deeply cooperation is woven into our being.
This friendly bent helped our ancestors overcome countless challenges. Instead of dominating one another, they exchanged ideas and formed alliances that extended beyond their immediate family. Early humans likely mingled with other groups, shared cultural practices, and learned new survival techniques from strangers. This openness would have been impossible if selfish cruelty were our main trait. Instead, trust, empathy, and understanding often carried the day. Realizing that nature favored our cooperative side can transform how we see ourselves and each other today. It suggests that kindness is not some thin mask but an ancient, powerful tool carved deep into our DNA.
Chapter 6: Settled Lands and New Possessions Sparked Unwelcome Fires of Violence.
If early humans were so cooperative, how did violence and cruelty become such a big part of our history? The answer seems tied to a massive change in the way we lived: the rise of farming and permanent settlements. When humans began to settle down, they started owning land and storing food. Suddenly, there was something to protect and something to fight over. Property introduced new fears: fear of theft, fear of invasion, and fear of losing what one had worked so hard to gather.
Before farming, humans wandered widely, meeting new groups and forming flexible relationships. There were no rigid borders or kings forcing people to submit. If someone was too bossy or unpleasant, the rest could simply move on, leaving that person behind. But once people stayed in one place, leaders could rise to power and hold it. They could defend their land with armies, punish those who disobeyed, and create inequality that was hard to escape. Violence, once relatively rare, became more common as people fought to protect or expand their possessions.
With property came walls, weapons, and wars. Unequal societies formed hierarchies where the strong and rich dominated others. Over time, this way of life became normal. Children grew up in a world where some people had more and others had less, and where states exercised force to maintain order. These settled communities allowed rulers to pass their power down through generations, making it even harder to return to a freer, more cooperative existence. Civilization, in other words, brought many benefits—art, science, stable food supplies—but it also opened the door to organized violence, conquests, and empires built on bloodshed.
This does not mean humans suddenly became monsters. Instead, changing conditions allowed certain negative traits to flourish. The capacity for empathy, kindness, and cooperation remained, but it struggled under systems that rewarded greed and punished weakness. Over time, we grew used to the idea that violence and domination were part of life. Many forgot that our ancestors had thrived without strict leaders or land disputes. Today, we must remember that the violence we see in history is not proof that we are evil by nature, but a reminder of how different circumstances can shape our behavior for better or worse.
Chapter 7: Empathy’s Gentle Light Can Still Cast Cruel Shadows on Outsiders.
Empathy is one of our greatest strengths. It helps us care for the injured, comfort the grieving, and share the burdens of those we love. It draws us together and makes life meaningful. But empathy has limits. We naturally feel it more strongly for those close to us—our family, our friends, our neighbors. This is like shining a flashlight in a dark forest; it lights up the area right around us, leaving the rest in shadow. When we empathize strongly with our in-group, we may ignore or even harm those we see as outsiders.
History has shown that tight bonds among soldiers can make them fight more fiercely, not necessarily because they believe in a violent cause, but because they cannot bear to abandon their comrades. Good intentions aimed at a small circle of loved ones can lead to cruelty toward others. Think of armies that commit terrible acts while believing they are protecting their homeland, friends, or family. Empathy helps them care deeply about their own side, while blinding them to the pain inflicted on strangers who never threatened them personally.
This zoomed-in empathy can explain some of humanity’s darkest chapters. The Holocaust, as horrifying as it was, can partly be understood through the lens of group loyalty. Many ordinary people became part of a cruel system not because they were pure evil, but because they followed their group, trusted their neighbors, and clung to loyalty over empathy for those outside their circle. This does not excuse the wrongdoing, of course, but it shows that our capacity to care can be twisted and misdirected when confined to too small a group.
Recognizing this dark side of empathy is essential. It teaches us that caring is not enough unless we broaden our understanding of who deserves our compassion. Instead of limiting our kindness to those who look, talk, or think like us, we can learn to widen the circle. By becoming aware of empathy’s narrow focus, we can attempt to shine that flashlight into the darkness beyond our comfort zone. It’s a challenge, but if we succeed, we can transform empathy into a force that unites, rather than divides, humanity.
Chapter 8: Even With Weapons in Hand, Most Humans Hesitate to Harm Others.
If we accept that humans are generally cooperative, what about the battlefield? Surely, war proves that we are natural-born killers. Isn’t that what happens when soldiers meet face-to-face, rifles at the ready? The reality might surprise you. Research suggests that even in warfare, many soldiers find it extremely hard to kill. Studies from the World Wars showed that a large percentage of soldiers either never fired their weapons or aimed above their enemies’ heads. Despite intense training, the weight of killing another human was too great for most to bear.
Think about how this contradicts countless movies, games, and stories that portray killing as easy. In real life, soldiers freeze, hesitate, or fire warning shots. Even when threatened, humans often seek ways to avoid direct violence. Commanders have struggled with this problem, trying to condition their troops to shoot on sight, but this goes against a deep-rooted reluctance. It appears we have an inner voice resisting the act of taking another life.
During the famous Christmas Truce of 1914 in World War I, German and British soldiers temporarily laid down their weapons, shook hands, sang carols, and even played football. This remarkable moment reveals that even in trenches filled with fear and propaganda, empathy and kindness could break through. Commanders, outraged, later ordered the fighting to resume, but many soldiers fired in ways that would not harm their former enemies. Despite the uniform and the orders, their human instincts leaned toward peace.
These facts challenge the view that we are cold-blooded warriors at heart. Instead, they show that taking a life is something most of us resist. War is often maintained not by soldiers’ thirst for blood, but by discipline, fear of punishment, and distant leaders who never meet those they condemn. Understanding this can help us imagine a world where fewer people are forced into such terrible situations. It can remind us that, even when trained to kill, the human spirit often seeks another path.
Chapter 9: Shattering Old Mirrors and Seeing Humanity’s True Reflection Clearly.
We have seen how people behave calmly in bombing raids, join hands after natural disasters, cooperate for survival, and hesitate to harm even in battle. We have learned that ancient myths about our savage nature are shaky at best. All this evidence suggests a groundbreaking conclusion: humans are not deeply selfish monsters kept in line by laws. Instead, we are creatures molded by kindness, cooperation, and empathy—qualities that allowed our ancestors to thrive.
Still, these discoveries are not yet firmly anchored in our institutions or cultures. Many laws, prisons, schools, and workplaces operate on the assumption that people are lazy, dangerous, or untrustworthy. As a result, we design systems of strict surveillance, harsh punishments, and rigid hierarchies. This creates environments where trust struggles to grow. If we view humans as villains, we build worlds that reflect that view, perhaps causing the very behavior we fear.
But if we dare to see ourselves in a more realistic light—as beings shaped by cooperation and capable of great kindness—we might try a different approach. Instead of controlling and punishing, we could guide, support, and rehabilitate. Instead of building walls of suspicion, we could build bridges of understanding. By changing our perspective, we free ourselves to imagine communities where trust, forgiveness, and generosity are the starting points, not rare exceptions.
Embracing this new view of humanity does not mean denying that terrible things happen. It does not mean that cruelty never exists. But it means recognizing that evil might be an exception, not the rule, and that under the right conditions, most of us want to do good. With this understanding, we can challenge the old stories and write new ones—stories of peaceful cooperation, wise leadership, and societies designed to bring out our best selves. Such a shift in perspective can set us on a path toward a kinder, fairer world.
Chapter 10: Reimagining Justice by Treating Prisoners Like Neighbors Not Lost Causes.
If people are naturally kind and cooperative, how should we handle those who break the rules and hurt others? Today, many justice systems focus on punishment and isolation. Prisons often treat inmates like dangerous animals, locking them away in tiny cells with little to do and even less hope. But what if this only encourages more harm? If we respond to wrongdoing with cruelty, we might simply create angrier, more desperate people who return to crime once released.
Norway’s Halden Prison offers a radically different model. There, inmates live in comfortable rooms with personal TVs. They cook their own meals, exercise outdoors, and interact with unarmed guards who treat them with respect. Critics might scoff, asking why criminals deserve such gentle treatment. But statistics show that prisoners who experience this kind of environment are far less likely to reoffend once they return to society. The question is not about spoiling wrongdoers; it’s about guiding them back toward a healthier life.
This approach rests on the idea that people are not hopeless villains. Even those who commit crimes can change if given a fair chance, treated like human beings capable of learning and growth. By offering education, therapy, and trust, modern prisons can become places where individuals rebuild their character rather than descend further into despair. Instead of hardening criminals, these prisons soften hearts and open minds, helping ex-inmates become decent neighbors after they’ve paid their dues.
This shift in thinking about punishment is not limited to jails. Schools, workplaces, and government institutions could also benefit from believing in people’s potential for goodness. Imagine schools that inspire cooperation instead of enforcing strict obedience. Envision workplaces that trust employees to do their best rather than constantly monitoring them. Picture governments that encourage citizens to participate honestly rather than treating them as liars and cheats. Norway’s prison model is just one example showing that when we trust human nature, we unlock better outcomes for everyone.
Chapter 11: Choosing to Believe in Goodness and Rebuilding Our Shared World Anew.
As we arrive at the end of this journey, we must ask ourselves: what next? If humans are not vile beasts kept in check by laws, but rather cooperative beings who sometimes get lost, can we redesign our societies to reflect this reality? We can start by changing how we think and talk about each other. Instead of expecting the worst, we can learn to look for the best. By noticing acts of generosity and courage that occur all around us, we become more confident in our fellow humans.
This change begins at the level of everyday life. We can treat our friends, classmates, colleagues, and neighbors with more trust and respect. We can support policies that invest in community building, mental health support, and fair economic conditions. When we start believing that most people want to do good, we stop seeing strict control as the only option. We can challenge pessimistic leaders who scare us into obedience and encourage leaders who build systems that nurture cooperation.
Over time, the ripple effects of this new understanding can reshape our culture. News outlets might highlight moments of heroism in everyday life. Fiction writers might produce stories where characters achieve greatness through kindness rather than cruelty. Educators could teach students about the many scientific studies and historical examples that reveal our better side. Bit by bit, the myth of human wickedness can fade, replaced by a more balanced view that accepts our faults but also celebrates our strengths.
In the end, shifting our perspective about human nature is not just about feeling good. It has real consequences for justice, politics, education, and economics. By choosing to believe in goodness, we empower positive change. We encourage systems that heal instead of harm, that uplift rather than oppress, and that unite rather than divide. The future might then offer a world where cooperation, empathy, and trust are not rare treasures, but everyday tools we use to solve problems. It’s up to each of us to help make that world a reality.
All about the Book
Discover Rutger Bregman’s groundbreaking insights in ‘Humankind’, where he challenges the dark views of human nature and presents a hopeful vision of altruism, cooperation, and compassion that can transform society.
Rutger Bregman is a renowned Dutch historian and author, celebrated for his thought-provoking works that explore humanity’s potential for goodness and the societal changes needed for a better future.
Sociologists, Psychologists, Educators, Policy Makers, Business Leaders
Philosophy, Debating, Reading social sciences, Volunteering, Community building
Societal mistrust, Inequality, Environmental sustainability, Social cooperation
The idea that humanity is bad has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Barack Obama, Bill Gates, Malala Yousafzai
Best Dutch Book of the Year, NRC Asia Book Award, The Dutch Book Prize
1. People are inherently good and cooperative. #2. Society thrives on trust and collaboration. #3. Humans have an optimistic instinct. #4. Empathy is a powerful social bond. #5. Positive news motivates collective actions. #6. Kindness promotes community resilience. #7. Civilizations progress through shared resources. #8. Humans adapt well in supportive environments. #9. Cooperation leads to greater societal achievements. #10. Violence is less common than believed. #11. Altruism benefits the entire community. #12. Connection strengthens human relationships. #13. Social cohesion arises from shared values. #14. Understanding enhances human connections. #15. Compassion fosters long-term peace. #16. Stereotypes often misrepresent human nature. #17. Group behavior influences societal direction. #18. Generosity encourages human advancement. #19. Historical narratives can shape perceptions. #20. Hope drives societal improvements.
Humankind book, Rutger Bregman, Human nature, Optimism in humanity, Social psychology, Philosophy of humanity, Empathy and kindness, Altruism in society, Human behavior, Positive psychology, Contemporary literature, Best books 2021
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1608347790
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