There’s a growing behavioural trend in society that might be described as “social narcissism”, the belief, conscious or otherwise, that rules, norms, or even basic courtesies only apply to others, not oneself. It manifests across all walks of life, but perhaps nowhere more visibly, or dangerously, than on the roads.
Whether its drivers pulling out from slip roads as though they own the carriageway, motorists who believe that activating an indicator grants them priority, or cyclists who flout the rules of the road by riding on pavements, ignoring lights, or failing to signal, there’s a shared undercurrent: “My needs matter most.”
Cyclists, for instance, often demand the protections and considerations afforded to vulnerable road users – and quite rightly so – but some undermine their own cause by ignoring basic rules, endangering themselves and pedestrians, or acting unpredictably. Meanwhile, drivers of larger vehicles frequently assume that size confers privilege, bullying their way through traffic or expecting others to yield unconditionally. It’s not about cyclists vs. drivers, it’s about a societal shift away from shared responsibility and toward personal exception.
This same mentality appears in wider cultural and political discourse. Activist groups and ideological minorities increasingly frame disagreement as bigotry. When decisions or outcomes don’t align with their, often, echo-chambered, views, accusations of discrimination or oppression often follow, even where none truly exists. This dangerous binary reduces all dissent to hate, stokes tensions, silences nuance and all reasonable discussion.
Take, for example, the ongoing debates around gender identity. Any individual should, of course, be free to live their lives without any form of overt or covert harassment, but it is neither bigoted nor unreasonable for society to expect boundaries in certain contexts, particularly when safeguarding women’s spaces, sport, or, indeed, privacy. Yet those raising these concerns are often branded transphobes, even if their arguments are rooted in biology, ethics, or common sense rather than hatred. The statistical reality is that those identifying as transgender, especially pre-operative individuals, make up a tiny proportion of the population (around 0.04%), yet their demands are increasingly used to reshape institutions, laws, and social norms. This is not progress, it is the tyranny of minority absolutism masquerading as inclusion.
To be clear – no one should face any form of discrimination, no matter the alleged “difference”. Equally, no one group, whether cyclists, drivers, activists, or minorities, should be above scrutiny or immune from the rules that are required to bind us all together as a cohesive society in which all have the opportunity to flourish.
What we’re losing is a sense of proportion, responsibility, and mutual respect. Society functions not on the basis of who shouts the loudest, but on the willingness of everyone to accept that no one’s identity, preference, or belief entitles them to trample on others. If we are to reverse this trend of social narcissism, we must start by restoring a culture of shared accountability and reasoned dialogue, where rules apply to everyone equally, and where respect flows both ways.
Yet this mentality also infects broader civic life. Nowhere is this more visible than in the discourse around identity politics and institutional prejudice.
Consider the recurring use of the term “institutional racism”, a phrase most often directed at the police or other large Government Agencies. It’s undeniable that some individuals within the police force and Government Agencies may harbour inappropriate and unacceptable views, but to label an entire institution racist, without concrete and systematic evidence, has become not only a lazy trope, but dangerously divisive. Often, this claim is wielded less as a call for reform and more as a tool for political leverage or simply for headline grabbing attention.
The bigger issue is the “them and us” culture between the police and the general public. Officers spend much of their careers being lied to, misled, or treated with hostility, even extreme violence. Over time, this breeds deep rooted cynicism, even in the best of them. It’s a psychological defence mechanism, not evidence of racial bias. To bridge that gulf, both sides must act, the public, regardless of ethnicity, must treat society and especially the police with civility, and the police must reciprocate by operating with some basic respect, transparency, sympathy and integrity.
The imbalance becomes stark when examining identity-based staff associations. The Black Police Officers Association (BPA), for example, advocates for ethnic minority officers, fair enough, but imagine the reaction if someone proposed a White Police Officers Association. It would be met, understandably, with public outcry, disciplinary action, and likely far worse. The point here is not to deny minorities their voice, but to ask – why is exclusive advocacy for some celebrated, while any hint of it for others is demonised?
A similar double standard applies to gender equality. Women’s groups have long campaigned for the dismantling of exclusionary male spaces, such as the notable case of St Andrews Golf Club being pressured to accept female members, however, despite this, many women-only clubs still exist and openly exclude men, often without scrutiny. If the aim is a level playing field, then rules must apply both ways, or the claim to moral high ground collapses.
These inconsistencies contribute to a social landscape where people feel that fairness has become selective. If equality means one rule for some and another for others, it ceases to be equality at all. When such practices become embedded in institutions, it feeds distrust, division, and resentment, not just among those who feel excluded, but among those who feel gaslit for pointing it out.
To reverse the spread of social narcissism, we must re-centre public discourse around shared responsibility, consistency, and mutual respect. That means rules must apply to all, regardless of identity or background. It also means we must resist the temptation to weaponise victimhood or history as permanent moral shields.
True progress doesn’t come from special pleading, it comes from a shared commitment to honesty, fairness, and reciprocal standards.