On the Scourge of Self-Interest.

My morning routine consists mainly of reading the news while eating my customary breakfast of cereal and a glass of grapefruit juice, doing a few tidying up jobs, replenishing the birds’ feeding tables, and then going for a pre-lunch walk in some of the loveliest scenery in the English countryside. This morning it was dry, mild and bright, yet I spent the whole of it in a deep depression (the sight of a fox ambling lazily down the main road helped a bit, but not much.)

The cause of this state of affairs is my growing sense of despair at the level of self-interest evident in the actions of my fellow humans. I read of the way in which Brazilian miners abuse and murder indigenous people while prosecuting their illegal activity in pursuit of self-interest. (When I hear of men throwing a 3-year-old girl into the river to die by drowning or predatory attack, my mind cannot avoid experiencing some dark and debilitating emotions.) And despite the fact that their activities are illegal and their behaviour even worse, Mr Bolsenaro does nothing about it. No doubt he, too, is driven by self-interest.

I gather the number of men, women and children (not to mention the soldiers) killed in Ukraine is currently unknown, or at least not yet publishable. Whatever the number, it’s all down to the self-interest of one Comrade Putin sitting safely in the Kremlin. I’m no fan of the Philippines’ President Duterte, but I found myself buoyed slightly when he railed at Putin this week, saying ‘I kill drug dealers, not children and the elderly.’

And then I read that a young man in Texas, just starting out on his life, walked into a school and killed nineteen children and two teachers. He obviously had his own twisted version of self-interest.

Should I write about Mr Xi’s self-interest in the appalling treatment meted out to the Uyghers in northwest China? Or the self-interest of the Taliban and the plight of Afghan women? Suffering, suffering, suffering, wherever you look, and all caused by human self-interest.

You may say that all life forms exercise some level of this troublesome beast, and I have to agree. But we humans pride ourselves on being not only the predominant species, but the one with a singular characteristic: we understand the concept of ethics. So why do so many of us ignore the fact so readily?

I know this is something of a leitmotif of mine, and I dislike regurgitating an old theme ad nauseum. But the older I get the more empathic I’m becoming, and the state of the human condition sometimes drives me to despair. That’s why I spent a lovely walk on a fine May morning feeling nothing but depression and not wanting to be a part of the human race any more.

Maybe I should end this latest rant by admitting that I’m not perfect either. I have been known to cause suffering through the pursuit of selfish ends, but I am trying to see through the instinctive imperative to follow self-interest and aspire to selfless, humanitarian principles. Is that sanctimonious? I hope not. Am I wrong to judge others, no matter what they do? Possibly. Is it too late to make a difference? I don’t know yet.