Are We Becoming Less Humane?

Over the past few months, I have often asked myself an uncomfortable question: are we becoming less humane? The question comes not from philosophy, but from witnessing deaths in wars, attacks on civilians, mob violence and killings closer to home. Violence is not new. Human history has always contained it. What is troubling is how easily suffering can now be inflicted, witnessed, shared and sometimes justified. Yet the evidence suggests caution. There is no reliable global measure of "humanity" that shows people have become morally worse. In fact, many long-term indicators of human welfare and social attitudes suggest otherwise. A more plausible concern is that the social norms and institutions that restrain aggression and promote empathy are coming under growing strain. 
The global figures are alarming. The Uppsala Conflict Data Program recorded 65 state-based armed conflicts in 2025, the highest since records began in 1946. Thirteen reached the level of war. About 244,600 people were killed in organised violence, up from 187,000 in 2024. Deaths from one-sided violence against civilians rose nearly fivefold, from 14,300 to 76,500. The longer trend is equally concerning. In 2010, there were 31 state-based conflicts and about 21,700 deaths; by 2025, conflicts had risen to 65 and deaths to around 153,600. The 2026 Global Peace Index tells a similar story. It found that 119 of 163 countries are less peaceful than when the index began, while 99 countries became less peaceful in the latest year. Countries involved in conflicts beyond their borders increased from 59 in 2008 to 103 in 2026. The global economic cost of violence reached US$21.81 trillion in 2025, equivalent to 10.5 per cent of global GDP.
At the same time, another pillar of society is weakening: ‘trust’. The UN World Social Report 2025, drawing on World Values Survey data, found declining trust in institutions across generations. Among 25 to 34-year-olds, the share reporting no trust in government increased across successive birth cohorts. The report notes that while economic and political shocks play a role, they cannot fully explain this long-term decline. Why does trust matter? Because societies rely on more than laws. They depend on shared beliefs: that disagreement does not justify violence; that accused people deserve due process; that people from different political, religious or ethnic groups remain fellow human beings; and that another person's suffering matters, even if we do not know them.

Bangladesh offers reason for concern. According to Ain o Salish Kendra (ASK), 197 people were killed in mob violence in 2025, up from 128 in 2024. While human rights organisations use different methodologies and report varying totals, several have documented a rise in mob violence. ASK has also recorded continued incidents in 2026, including mob attacks, political violence, violence against women and children, attacks on minorities, and other human rights violations. These numbers should concern us beyond politics. A mob killing is more than a law-and-order failure. It occurs when accusation replaces evidence, anger replaces justice, and collective punishment replaces the rule of law. When such behaviour becomes normal, the damage extends beyond the immediate victims.
Technology adds another challenge. Violence that once took days to reach the public now appears on phones within minutes. Images of death and abuse are repeatedly shared. Social media can amplify outrage, turn opponents into stereotypes, and spread rumours faster than facts. Yet the evidence does not show that people have become inherently crueller. Nor do global homicide trends show a universal rise in violence. UNODC data point to wide variations across regions and types of violence.
This distinction matters because it shapes the response. If people have simply become worse, policy can do little. But if the institutions and norms that foster empathy, restraint and respect for human dignity are weakening, governments, schools, families, media, religious institutions and civil society all have a role to play.
Education is a good place to start. We invest heavily in exam results, job skills, technology, artificial intelligence and economic competitiveness. These matter, but education also has a civic role. Students should learn to disagree without hatred, identify misinformation, respect differences, resolve conflicts peacefully and recognise the dignity of opposing views. Schools and universities should place greater emphasis on civic education, ethics, digital citizenship, media literacy and conflict resolution. These should not be limited to exams. Students need opportunities to engage with people from different backgrounds, discuss difficult issues respectfully and build empathy.
The state has an even greater responsibility. Mob justice should never replace the legal system. Consistent investigation and prosecution are essential because impunity sends a dangerous message: violence works. Institutions must show that disputes are resolved through law, not collective anger. Political and community leaders influence social behaviour through their language. Dehumanising opponents makes violence easier to justify. Religious and cultural institutions can reinforce norms of compassion and restraint. Media organisations and digital platforms should also consider how they amplify violence, misinformation and public humiliation.
None of this means that previous generations were inherently kinder. History gives us little basis for romanticising the past. Perhaps, then, we are asking the wrong question. Instead of asking “Have human beings become less humane?”, we should ask “Are we maintaining the institutions and social norms that help human beings behave humanely?”
The recent evidence gives us reason to worry about the answer. Humanity is not an automatic quality that society can take for granted. Empathy can be taught, reinforced and rewarded. So can hatred, humiliation and violence. Economic growth can make a country richer. Technology can make it smarter. Education can make people more skilled. But a society also needs to make a deliberate investment in something much harder to measure: our ability to see another human being, particularly someone different from ourselves, as still deserving dignity. That may be one of the most important investments Bangladesh, and the wider world, can make.
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The writer is an academician and development strategist, currently serving at a foreign diplomatic mission in Dhaka. He can be reached at [email protected]