Articles Of Loathing

“The belief that the individual is the sole architect of their fate ignores the structural, communal, and historical forces that shape lives.”
— Michael Sandel, The Tyranny of Merit (2020)

It seems as though society has atomised to such an extent that even speaking about “community” or “the collective” conjures visions of a sci-fi dystopia — or, at best, a Facebook group. Political discourse often urges us to “preserve the institutions of the nation,” but what this actually boils down to are curated images of “go-getter” entrepreneurs, quirky cafés selling “shoe buns” (buns shaped like shoes — all the rage, I imagine), or smiling families holding keys to suburban homes with one child at their side and another on the way.

In short, the aspects of society we commonly champion are those that elevate the milestones of the individual — success, ownership, visibility — not the health of the whole.

No one in modern history encapsulated this idea better than Margaret Thatcher when she famously declared:

“There is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families.”

This worldview — of atomised individuals and families competing for limited resources and space — harks back to Hobbes’ state of nature, where life is “nasty, brutish, and short.” But are we forgetting the collective struggles fought and the triumphs achieved by people working together? Is it too difficult for the modern mind to grasp that meaningful social change has always required the coordination of many — not the grind of one?

Consider how our culture places business owners, inventors, and athletes at the very top of society — envied, emulated, celebrated. With the rise of influencers and fame-for-fame’s-sake celebrities, these waters are even more muddied. People whose only visible achievement is self-promotion are now seen as aspirational. In such a world, how can individuals possibly feel empowered by their communities, when every route to “success” is increasingly portrayed as individual, not communal?

But what about society itself? Should we not be equally proud of the systems we’ve built — free healthcare, universal education, social services, and welfare — that allow people to live with dignity and security? Isn’t it a remarkable achievement that, as a collective, we’ve moved beyond Hobbesian chaos toward peace, prosperity, and even the possibility of eudaimonic fulfilment?

Yet the rights and protections won by collective struggle are now routinely minimised or ignored — obscured by the myth of individual merit. It’s natural to attribute our own successes to hard work, and to blame society for our failures. But the toxic self-made person does the reverse when looking at others: they see failure as a moral flaw — a result of laziness or poor decisions — just as they see their own success as a series of correct, righteous moves.

The logic becomes: If I fail, it’s because the world is unfair. If you fail, it’s because you didn’t try hard enough.

This is the foundation of a culture that erodes empathy, discourages solidarity, and nurtures an individualism so toxic it ensures the many will fail so that a select few may rise. In that sense, the “state of nature” has returned — just with better lighting and branding.

Toxic individualism doesn’t just harm society — it harms individuals, too.

The pressure to keep up appearances with peers or influencers leads many to spend beyond their means, chasing status symbols or embarking on commodified “journeys of self-discovery.” Debt and dissatisfaction follow. As Brené Brown put it in Braving the Wilderness:

“We are living in a society where the myth of self-reliance has left millions ashamed of their vulnerability and isolated in their suffering.”

In this world, vulnerability is a liability. Saying “I can’t afford that” or “I might need to wait” feels like an admission of failure. Businesses exploit this with “FOMO” marketing: a glance at any inbox reveals payday deals, abandoned cart emails, and sales posing as self-care — all designed to make us feel lesser if we don’t give in.

“Hustle culture” and self-help content feed the same beast. Rarely do self-help gurus speak of growth for the benefit of others. More often, society is ignored altogether — except when it’s an obstacle to be overcome. Yet it is society, in all its complexity and imperfection, that makes any personal success possible in the first place.

This has affected even how we view work. It’s no longer just bored shelf-stackers watching the clock — even those in roles of power and responsibility often seem disengaged, prioritising personal convenience over public duty. The “race to 5 p.m.” is rampant across statutory services. Consider Rachel Reeves evading a Gaza question during the 2024 campaign — a small example, perhaps, but symbolic of a growing apathy. In such a climate, can we really talk about duty at all?

Meanwhile, wellness culture — promising salvation through yoga, apps, and supplements — has become another industry cloaked in neoliberal ideals. As Wendy Brown wrote in Undoing the Demos:

“The real contradiction of neoliberalism is that it glorifies individual choice while ensuring that only a few can actually exercise it meaningfully.”

This contradiction is poisonous. People are told they can change their fate if they just hustle harder, fit more in, optimise better. But this fantasy disproportionately punishes those without time or resources — making them feel ashamed for failing to “self-actualise” and fearful of seeking help.

Yet another way is possible.

The Ubuntu philosophy — “I am because we are” — offers a counterpoint that is both simple and profound. It reminds us that our freedoms and our ability to live meaningful lives are inseparable from the wellbeing of those around us.

It is only through our community — through functioning institutions, collective empathy, and shared responsibilities — that individual flourishing becomes possible. To forget this is to risk everything.

I’d even argue that the rise of dangerous cultural phenomena on both the right and the left — from “cancel culture” panic to “great replacement” theory — stems from a society obsessed with the personal, not the public. These are individual anxieties masquerading as collective threats. And when elevated, they obscure real issues and sow division. Left unchecked, such narratives may erode the very communal freedoms they claim to defend.

In closing, I leave you with the words of Robert Bellah from Habits of the Heart:

“Society must make it possible for people to form attachments and commitments larger than the self.”

We must reclaim that possibility. Individuals need to look beyond their own well-being and that of their immediate circle. They must ask: What can I do to support the society I live in? What can I do to uphold its values, protect its institutions, and defend its most vulnerable?

After all, none of us got here alone. And none of us will make it alone either.