The Desire to Seem Virtuous

I’ve noticed something over the years — the desire to seem virtuous has slowly started to replace the desire to be virtuous. Everywhere I look, it feels like people are performing compassion instead of practicing it. Social media has only amplified that. Someone records a video of themselves helping a stranger, posts it with a catchy caption, and it gets a hundred thousand likes. But I often wonder, would they have done it if no one was watching and they were not being paid for views, I think not?

That same mindset spills into everyday life — at the store, in restaurants, and online. You see people jumping to correct others, lecturing complete strangers, or demanding apologies for things that didn’t even affect them personally. Somewhere along the line, standing up for something quietly became less valuable than being seen standing up for it. That’s where the whole “Karen” stereotype comes from. It’s not about gender or appearance — it’s about a behavior rooted in moral performance, in wanting to be the hero of the moment rather than genuinely helpful.

And honestly, politicians have perfected this better than anyone. Their entire careers depend not on what they truly accomplish but on how their constituents perceive them. They’re masters of appearing compassionate, righteous, and committed — even when the results tell a different story. Every word, every photo, every handshake is carefully staged by a team whose sole job is to monitor public perception. I’ve seen enough campaign seasons in my lifetime to know that optics often matter more than outcomes.

But real compassion doesn’t need to be witnessed. It doesn’t demand applause or public recognition. It’s found in small acts — the kind no one sees but the person receiving them. I’ve met people in my life who quietly made the world better in ways that would never make the evening news. Like the neighbor who cut the grass for the elderly widow next door every week without ever mentioning it. Or the store associate who went out of his way to help a struggling customer and didn’t tell a soul.

If I’ve learned anything from my years in retail, in business, and in life, it’s that character is what you do when nobody’s watching. And in a world obsessed with optics, that’s a truth worth holding onto.