Is Human Nature Fundamentally

Selfish or Altruistic?
Human inclinations are not primarily selfish: kindness and altruism have been
evolutionarily valued in mates, and even the youngest children often try to be helpful
By Maia Szalavitz @maiaszOct. 08, 201286 Comments

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Did selfishness or sharing drive human evolution? Evolutionary theorists have traditionally
focused on competition and the ruthlessness of natural selection, but often they have failed to
consider a critical fact: that humans could not have survived in nature without the charity and
social reciprocity of a group.
Last week on Slate, evolutionary anthropologist Eric Michael Johnson explored the question
against the backdrop of two cultural events in 1957 the consequences of the rogue, selfish
activities of a pygmy hunter in a Congo forest, who used the groups collective hunting efforts to
benefit only himself, and in New York City, the publication of Ayn Rands novel Atlas Shrugged,
whose protagonist champions the authors notion that human nature is fundamentally selfish
and that each man exists for his own sake, and the achievement of his own happiness is his
highest moral purpose.
Atlas Shrugged counts many politicians as admirers, perhaps most notably Republican vice
presidential candidate, Paul Ryan, who cites the book as one of his main inspirations for entering
politics and is known to give Rands books frequently to his interns.
(MORE: Paradise Built in Hell: How Disaster Brings Out the Best in People)
So, does Rands theory comport with current evolutionary theory? The data is not exactly kind to
her position. For example, Johnson describes an anthropologists account of the pygmy
tribesman, Cephu, in the Congo who lived by the Randian ideal that selfishness is the highest
morality. Cephu was part of the Mbuti tribe for whom hunts were collective efforts in which each
hunters success belonged to everybody else, Johnson writes, detailing how the tribe employed
long nets of twined liana bark to catch their prey, sometimes stretching the nets for 300 feet.

Once the nets were hung, women and children began shouting, yelling, and beating the ground to
frighten animals toward the trap.
It was a group effort, for most:
But one man, a rugged individualist named Cephu, had other ideas. When no one was looking, Cephu
slipped away to set up his own net in front of the others.

Soon caught in this blatant attempt to steal meat, Cephu was brought in front of the whole tribe:
At an impromptu trial, Cephu defended himself with arguments for individual initiative and personal
responsibility. He felt he deserved a better place in the line of nets, [the anthropologist Colin] Turnbull
wrote. After all, was he not an important man, a chief, in fact, of his own band? But if that were the
case, replied a respected member of the camp, Cephu should leave and never return. The Mbuti have
no chiefs, they are a society of equals in which redistribution governs everyones livelihood. The rest
of the camp sat in silent agreement.
Faced with banishment, a punishment nearly equivalent to a death sentence, Cephu relented.

He apologized, handed over his meat to the tribe and then, essentially, was sent to bed without
dinner. As Johnson explains, selfishness is considered far from a virtue in such tribal groups,
which still live in ways similar to our hunter-gatherer ancestors. Indeed, every such group ever
studied has been found to idealize altruism and punish selfishness, in everything from their
mythologies to their mating practices.
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Although Rand accepted that early human life was a collective effort, she failed to realize how this
shaped our brains. In most societies, for example, a man like Cephu would be seen as the
opposite of a good catch for a woman wanting a partner. A good mate and one whose genes
were likely selected for and passed on in our earliest evolutionary history would have been a
cooperative hunter, one who didnt put his own goals ahead of those of the tribe. He would have
been altruistic in battle too, particularly when warring with other groups. A selfish soldier, after
all, is known as a coward, not a hero.
The evidence for altruism as a critical part of human nature isnt limited to
anthropology. Studies of 18-month-old toddlers show that they will almost always try to help an
adult who is visibly struggling with a task, without being asked to do so: if the adult is reaching

for something, the toddler will try to hand it to them, or if they see an adult drop something
accidentally, they will pick it up.
However, if the same adult forcefully throws something to the ground, toddlers wont try to
retrieve it: they understand that the action was deliberate and that the object is unwanted. These
very young children will even assist (or refrain from helping) with a book-stacking task
depending on what they perceive to be the adults intention. If the adult clumsily knocks the last
book off the top of the stack, the toddler will try to put it back; if the adult deliberately takes the
last book off, however, toddlers wont intervene. Even before kids are taught to chip in perhaps
especially before they are told its an obligation children are less selfish than often presumed.
Another study found that 3- to 5-year-olds tend to give a greater share of a reward (stickers, in
this case) to a partner who has done more work on a task again, without being asked even if
it means they get to keep less for themselves. And those cries of Thats not fair! that plague
sibling relationships: theyre not only selfish; they reflect childrens apparently innate desire for
equity.
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Fundamental tendencies toward altruism arent only seen in children, either. Worldwide, the
aftermath of natural disasters are typically characterized by heroism and a sharing of resources
within the affected community and in others farther way not selfish panics. During the
terrorist attacks of 9/11, for example, there were no accounts of people being trampled rushing
out of the World Trade Center towers; rather, those who needed assistance descending were
cared for, and calm mainly prevailed. The same occurred after the earthquake, tsunami and
nuclear meltdown in Japan in 2011. The cases in which people stampede or look out only for
themselves tend to be rare and involve very specific circumstances that mitigate against
helpfulness.
Moreover, our stress systems themselves seem to be designed to connect us to others. They calm
down when we are feeling close to people we care about whether related to us or not and
spike during isolation and loneliness. Even short periods of solitary confinement can derange the
mind and damage the body because of the stress they create. And having no social support can be
as destructive to health as cigarette smoking.

Of course, none of this is to say that humans are never selfish or that we dont have a grasping,
greedy part of our nature. But to claim, as Rand does, that altruistic morality is a disease is to
misrepresent reality.
(Share the love and read the rest of Johnsons fascinating feature here.)
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Maia Szalavitz is a health writer at TIME.com. Find her on Twitter at @maiasz. You can also
continue the discussion on TIME Healthlands Facebook page and on Twitter
at @TIMEHealthland.