After the murder of Kitty Genovese, psychologists studied why people sometimes fail to help in emergencies. What they found was utterly fascinating: the more people present, the less likely any one person is to act. The incident led to the term “bystander effect” and prompted reforms to emergency response systems. I bring this up not because the bystander effect is about kindness, but because among the outliers — those who would respond — many are driven simply by kindness.
Just out of kindness.
Kindness is the quality of being friendly, generous, and considerate, characterised by intentional acts of care for others without expecting reward.
I once had a chat with two hospital workers — the team we call domestics, or cleaners. Surprisingly, it was an unplanned discussion, but by the end, I had learned a profound lesson from them. The first person had been in the trust for a year and was very dissatisfied with her work, wishing she were doing something more dignified and worthwhile. The second person was middle-aged and deeply grateful for the opportunity to contribute to saving lives. In her words, “I help people get better.”
She was not a medic. Not a nurse. Not a surgeon. Not a lab scientist. A cleaner. What many would call ‘merely cleaning floors’. What we often fail to realise is that kindness hides inside ordinary work.
We have become so oriented toward hierarchy, strength, performance, gain, security, and output that genuine kindness often gets diminished. The thing about kindness that is easy to miss is that it benefits not only the recipient. Study after study in psychology shows that kind people are healthier, happier, more connected, enjoy their work more, and are often more successful than those who optimise for advantage at others’ expense.
Biochemically speaking, every act of kindness — even a tiny one — triggers the release of serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin. You feel better, not because you are performing benevolence, but because doing good for others is deeply human. Kindness is not weakness. It is biology.
And yet we hold back. We do not give compliments because it might seem awkward. We do not check in on the person who is struggling because we do not want to overstep. We do not leave a generous tip because we are in a rush. These micro-moments of withheld kindness accumulate into a less connected, less warm version of life.
About a year and a half ago, I was in a restaurant with my family when my son suddenly started having vomiting fits. It is something I had become used to, as it seemed to happen whenever he ate. I focused on making sure he was not choking and that he was okay when, across the open place, I saw an older woman collapse. It was completely unrelated to what was happening around us.
As you would expect with the bystander effect, everyone looked, but no one moved to help. I noticed two other people slowly approaching her. I could not hear them, but they were probably asking if she was alright, in that calm British manner. Once I was sure my son was safe, I ran over to help the collapsed woman. I introduced myself as a doctor, and we went from there.
When emergencies happen, you often notice that many people are more interested in recording the event or watching from a distance than actually helping.
“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” — Aesop.
Do one deliberate, specific act of kindness for someone, in any situation. The only thing that comes before helping is ensuring your own safety. For example, if there is a live electrical hazard in the middle of the road, call for help first before stepping in. Then help if you can. No expectations. No announcements. Just give it.
Learn to be intentionally and genuinely kind. Open your heart to people around you who need a moment of care, kind words, love, or goodwill. Give freely, because kindness does not run out inside you. No amount of kind words or compassion will deplete your capacity to care. Do not treat kindness as though it were a finite commodity.