—.How do you not fear anything?
—.Who told you?
—.What are you afraid of?
—.For example… For example, scorpions. Uhm… Loneliness. I’m afraid of being alone.
—.Well, what about you?
—.All these creatures. What if there are people inside them? Prisoners in a body that no longer obeys them? What if that happens to me?(“One of Us,” a computer game)
In zombie movies, the zombies themselves are portrayed as mindless creatures driven by an insatiable desire to bite healthy people, who then also become zombies. This behavior is somewhat similar to that of rabid animals—they bite their victims, and the rabies virus is transmitted through saliva, causing new victims to also become aggressive. The rabies virus spreads precisely because it somehow compels the infected animal to want to bite another animal or a human.
How much more interesting would the plot of a horror movie be if zombies, after being bitten, didn’t lose their minds but remained ordinary people who just really want to bite someone? They simply enjoy it and experience pleasure from the feeling of pierced skin and the taste of blood on their tongue. There are people who find pleasure in wearing tight latex suits, who enjoy popping bubble wrap, who take pleasure in tormenting others, or who find joy in watching a washing machine work. If it feels good, that’s why they do it.
But we are those zombies. We take pleasure in doing things that don’t benefit us, but are required to satisfy the demands of someone who isn’t part of our “self.” We have sex, we go to bed, we eat candy, we love children, we get married – these are all things that our “self” – the conscious part of us – doesn’t need, yet we do them willingly and even with joy. We enjoy doing them.
What is the “self”? Each of us is, in fact, a large colony of single-celled organisms, each of which is a clone of the other, living and dying solely so that some members of the colony can pass on the genetic material, which is identical for all, to the next generation. This colony of cells has developed a vast array of programs and reactions aimed ultimately at ensuring the immortality of the genes it carries. Each of us is analogous to an ant colony, where instead of ants, there are cells, and instead of a queen, there are the reproductive cells—eggs and sperm. Just as an ant colony releases its winged, reproductive members into the wild once a year in hopes of establishing a new colony, so too do cell colonies release reproductive cells with each sexual act in hopes of starting a new colony. Those cell colonies that do not do this die out without consequences for future generations. Those colonies that manage to do this more effectively for some reason create new colonies in greater numbers. For the colony to function harmoniously and purposefully, proudly referred to as an “organism,” there are numerous mechanisms that coordinate the activities of this organism and stimulate it to behave in ways that are beneficial for the entire colony—behaviors that ultimately lead to the transmission of genes to the next generation.
Do we feel hungry? We eat. Do we feel sleepy? We sleep. Do we want to marry a partner of the opposite sex? We get married. And this is despite the fact that a legally formalized marriage is only necessary for the fair division of property and responsibility for children, which young couples typically don’t have at the time of the wedding. Do we simply want to see our loved one? We act on that. Do we want to cuddle a child? We cuddle. The emotions that make our lives so colorful and diverse, and which we believe distinguish us from “soulless” robots and computers, are actually nothing more than manifestations of absolute soullessness and mathematically cold calculation. Through emotions, our colony communicates with our “self,” letting it know what behavior is acceptable and what is not.
Everything we like or dislike, everything we choose to do or not do, is dictated by our genes in the overwhelming majority of cases, which shape the very colony that each of us is a part of. Guided by our emotions, we turn into zombie robots, executing the will of our genes. We consider moral actions to be right, but they are simply advantageous when it comes to life within a tribe—where behavioral instincts were formed. We believe that conscience is a part of the soul or mind, but in reality, it is an element of our overall “programming.” We think we choose a gift for our “other half,” but in fact, the very desire to give a gift was dictated to us, and we are merely executing the will of a dictator. We believe we choose this “other half,” but in reality, we are just following a command developed through very complex, yet cold-blooded and ruthless calculations that we are not even aware of, as it is not us calculating, but the colony that has evolved to possess a built-in computer—an expert system. Similarly, a cynical computational system that evaluates everything—from burnt cutlets and the smell of sweat to the number of children born and the frequency of illnesses—gives us the command to end a marriage, and for some reason, we suddenly stop liking a person who is at least a friend and ally. We feel jealousy or tenderness, but it’s the same computers that have calculated something and issued a result-command. We lose our heads over love, commit crazy acts, behave seemingly illogically, but in reality, we are no better than a bream infected with parasites.
A person, carrying billions of their own cells, will similarly act according to their dictates and receive rewards in return—positive emotions or punishments—negative ones.
But what about consciousness and that elusive “self”? It is something new that was invented, during evolution, by colonies of cells. This ability to analyze and find dependencies allows us to construct a picture of the future, to determine whether a particular program embedded in the organism is effective, whether the computer has made any errors in its calculations, and whether it has taken all input data into account. The mechanism for predicting the future that exists in humans is not perfect; it can lead people into a deceptive sense of self-confidence, relying on past facts and existing knowledge, but not on what might happen or on what a person does not know. Yet, in a statistically significant number of cases, it works and gives people an advantage over other animals. Unlike a rat, we can choose not to grab food from the supermarket shelves but to avoid a punishment that is not comparable to the benefit of stolen food. Unlike a dog, we can choose not to eat a sandwich right now at the airport but to wait a couple of hours and get more for the same money by buying that same sandwich at the supermarket or making it ourselves. Or conversely, we might prefer to eat more now, even when we are no longer hungry, knowing that we will be hungry again in a few hours and there will be nowhere to eat properly. We might choose to study a foreign language instead of drinking beer at the pub across the street. We can achieve greater pleasure and receive more rewards from the colony of cells that governs us, as we fulfill the main program—passing our genes to the next generation—more optimally. And if emotions are the robot, then reason is us—the small part of each of us that drives us to endure unpleasant sensations now in order to gain more pleasure in the future.
Reason has given invaluable advantages to those colonies of cells that possess it. It serves as a crutch for situations when the world changes, and old programs become ineffective while new ones have yet to be created. We wisely avoid driving under a “no entry” sign, even though the road is shorter; we sensibly refuse sweets; we prudently save money. Reason can recognize that old programs are ineffective and make the right decisions—regulating the operation of these programs. However, reason is not a perfect tool and makes mistakes, often systemic ones, such as believing in life after death or in the superiority of one nation over another.
In order for the mind to regulate and stop instinctive impulses, it has the final say, remaining connected to instincts only through a small informational bridge that transmits a single signal: “good” or its opposite, “bad.” The mind receives these signals—whether to eat, drink, or seek a partner—and decides how to behave in the future, always with the same goal: to satisfy the needs of the large colony of cells we call an “organism.” The more intelligent a person is, the further they can see into the future. The stronger a person’s mind, the better they can control their own conditioning and resist emotional robots.
We imagine scenarios of “doomsday” in our heads, where tomorrow may not come, and we realize that we could behave like wild animals, unbound by any constraints that the knowledge of what will happen tomorrow imposes on us. It’s unlikely that we would all be completely immoral in such a situation—morality is part of our instincts. However, students would probably not prepare for exams, criminals wouldn’t write petitions for clemency, accountants wouldn’t close the cash register and balance the books by evening, and mothers wouldn’t care whether their children had done their homework.
Right now, the reader’s mind is reading these lines and asking the question: Okay, how should I live? Should I restrict myself in everything, depriving myself of pleasures to stay true to myself, or should I leap without looking back into the abyss of passions and emotions, giving myself entirely to the process of enjoying life? The answer is simple: The sensations from the fall are magnificent and worth it. But before jumping off a cliff, it’s wise to make sure that there’s a deep sea below, not rocks and sand.
In essence:
- What we consider to be “human” and what distinguishes us from “soulless machines”—our emotions—are actually the “soulless,” animalistic parts of us.
- When we are driven by emotions without using reason, we end up with the worst outcome for ourselves and for the colony of cells that we are.
- It’s also important to use our minds carefully. We should study more about the cognitive biases that affect our thinking process. Our mind is not perfect. It usually just provides better results compared to purely instinctual behavior.
- Perhaps, to train mindfulness, it would be beneficial to engage in spiritual practices, meditation, and yoga.
- Our “morality” is also not purely a human trait. Signs of moral behavior can be found in many animals.
- Don’t deny yourself the pleasures that life offers. Good things come to those who know how to wait.
Fish infected with certain parasites desire to swim near the surface, where they can be caught by a bird, which then spreads the parasite’s eggs throughout the water. They are compelled to do this, and they find it pleasurable. An ant infected with a specific fungus will eventually want to climb to the underside of a leaf and remain there, waiting for the spores to mature. When the spores fall from the leaf onto the bodies of other ants, they germinate inside the host and begin to release certain alkaloid compounds to achieve their goals. The infected zombie ants leave their colonies and wander alone until the fungus is ready to continue spreading spores in search of new victims. In the final hours of their lives, the ants climb back onto leaves and position themselves to disperse the spores as effectively as possible. A caterpillar that is home to larvae of a parasitic wasp will care for them, weaving cocoons and protecting them from predators.
Religious people who suffer from constant self-restraint, often regarded as simple-minded by those with a scientific education, actually behave quite rationally. After all, it is reason that transforms temporary suffering today into the promise of eternal life later. In other words, those who impose limitations on themselves and practice religious asceticism tend to use reason more than those who are non-religious or religious in a “casual” sense.