Social media and the rise of hyper-individualism: do we really not owe anyone anything? 

For #SHW26  we’re exploring how we can champion connection in an increasingly individualised world. In this blog, Brook’s Communications and Policy Manager, Eliza Bell, explores the rise of hyper-individualism and argues that it really does take a village. 

In recent decades we have entered the cult of the individual. From celebrities to influencers and now to content creators – everyday people who are ‘just like us’ but can be catapulted into internet stardom from their bedroom – as a society we’ve developed a fascination with individuals we’ve never met and how they live their lives.

Alongside this, or perhaps as a result, we’ve become increasingly fixated with the display and promotion of our own lives.

Social media has certainly acted as a catalyst and/or vehicle for this obsession over how we are perceived. As someone who sits rights on the cusp of being millennial vs Gen Z, I’ve watched the transition of social media from platforms like Bebo and MySpace to Instagram and Tiktok. Originally a space where you would upload entire albums of one birthday party or sleepover at a friend’s house, social media has shifted to displaying increasingly curated and polished snapshots of our lives.

In The Agony of Eros (2012), philosopher Byung-Chul Han argues that modern society is losing the capacity for genuine love, desire, and intimacy. Han contends that contemporary culture, with its emphasis on self-optimisation, consumption, performance, and constant self-display, has weakened what he calls Eros: the experience of encountering and being transformed by the “other.” 

Instagram feminism

The Instagram feminism of the 2010s (à la Florence Given, most notably) could be considered as an example of Han’s theory. Given amassed huge numbers of followers sharing Instagrammable illustrations promoting messaging like ‘you don’t owe anyone anything’ and ‘fill your own cup first, babe.’

No doubt this messaging resonated with young people, and young women in particular, because their opinions, boundaries and needs are often not listened to or respected. As I know from personal experience, we can feel silenced in both our professional and personal lives. So  it’s understandable that the idea of taking up more space can be powerful. 

But somewhere along the way, I’d argue that these Insta-worthy snippets shifted from being empowering to isolating.

In my own feed, I saw more and more stories of people cutting out those who ‘didn’t serve them’. There were more conversations around boundaries, emotional capacity, and trauma dumping in friendships. People were encouraged to put themselves and their own needs first – to be selfish – and to ditch people who didn’t respect that.

Connection vs convenience 

It’s not that I entirely disagree with these sentiments. I do think it’s important that we consider what’s going on in our friends’ and partners’ lives before we add our own issues to their plates. I think it’s healthy to recognise when you need a night in instead of socialising, and to put boundaries in place to protect your mental health.

But as feminist theorists like bell hooks and Audre Lorde have highlighted, connection is not always convenient. Working together is not always easy and community is not always comfortable. But without these things we do not grow.  I would argue that removing anything that is not serving you is not an act of self-love, but self-limitation.

Relationships – from friendships to romantic partners and even to work colleagues – require work from both sides.

It’s unlikely that the timing of your friend’s relationship crisis is going to perfectly align with when you are in a fantastic headspace with no worries of your own, and vice versa. Looking for frictionless relationships is not only unrealistic, it shies away from the messiness that makes those relationships deeper.

While you shouldn’t feel like you are always exhausted after spending time with someone, or that you are the only one to ever reach out, relationships are also not 50/50. At times we will give a lot more than the other person, but we have to trust they will do the same for us when we need it. People have their own experiences, circumstances and challenges that influence how they are able to show up in their lives and relationships, and I have found that developing an empathy and understanding for that has been far more freeing than just cutting off people who I didn’t feel were putting in enough effort. 

Hyper-individualism

In 2026 we are living in an era of hyper-individualism, or the belief that the self is the primary unit of meaning, responsibility and fulfilment. In an hyper-individualist society, personal happiness becomes the ultimate goal, and relationships, communities and institutions are increasingly evaluated according to what they can offer us as individuals. The people around us become valuable only insofar as they contribute positively to our own journey.

Hyper-individualism promises freedom but often delivers isolation.

A space where this is perhaps most obvious is the so-called manosphere. Despite presenting itself as a solution to male loneliness, much of its content encourages young men to view life through an intensely individualistic lens. Success is framed as a personal project of self-optimisation: make more money, build the perfect physique, become more confident, become more desirable. The focus is rarely on building stronger communities, nurturing friendships, or developing healthier ways of relating to others. Instead, fulfilment is presented as something that can be achieved through the ‘relentlessly rich and ripped’ narrative.

While independence is a healthy quality and being financially-savvy or looking after your physical health are not things to be frowned out, they’re unlikely to be wholly fulfilling without also having people in your life who care about you irrelevant of how much you earn or what you look like. Building those connections requires vulnerability, something the manosphere is sorely lacking.

It takes a village 

These days, it is often said that people want the support of a village without doing the work of being a villager, and I’m inclined to agree. We cannot reap the benefits of community without accepting some of the inconveniences that come with it.

If we truly want to live by the idea that you should always protect your peace and that we don’t owe anyone anything, then by that logic we’d also have to accept behaviours like ghosting as reasonable. In reality, we have to experience the discomfort and awkwardness of human interactions in order to deepen our relationships both with ourselves and others. Sometimes, connection means being there for someone even when it isn’t easy.

In a culture that constantly asks what we can gain, perhaps the more radical question is what we do, in fact, owe one another.