Anita's Angle: The case for idealism

During a time that has been called the “most peaceful era in human history,” millions of people continue to suffer throughout the world from what I believe to be preventable afflictions. We already produce enough food to feed the world’s approximately 795 million malnourished individuals. Wars that seem intractable continue to ravage countries.

Many believe that humanity’s problems are so deeply entrenched that they are unsolvable and have given up the fight, as evidenced by my generation’s disillusionment with politics and lack of community engagement.

But why do I believe these afflictions are preventable? There is a case to be made for idealism.

Humans, many believe, are so awful to each other because it is in our very nature. We’re rational and competitive. It would be naive to think that humans could ever share, or collaborate, or act in each other’s interests. After all, realists tell us that life is a zero-sum game.

I’m not sure I buy this argument for two reasons.

First, the very concept of human nature is transient. Interracial marriage, for one example, was illegal in the United States until 1967. People are certainly capable of changing their minds on fundamental issues, so human nature in and of itself is not necessarily fixed.

Second, the existence of collaborative institutions disproves the idea that humans are fundamentally selfish. Individuals often choose to stand in solidarity and work for the collective good; the existence of public education systems proves this.

Let’s look at a story that will help us understand.

In her book, “Who Cooked Adam Smith’s Dinner?: A Story of Women and Economics,” Katrine Marçal asks us to imagine a scenario in which two men are stranded on an deserted island — one of them has a bag of rice, and the other has 200 golden bracelets. Although the golden bracelets would have held a high value in urban society, on the island, the rice is far more crucial to survival. Conventional economic models would tell us that the two men would trade, or perhaps that the individual with the bag of rice could refuse to trade with the other.

The scenario would be analyzed transactionally. But, as Marçal aptly points out, “these stories never allow for the possibility that two people abandoned on a desert island would start talking to each other, that they might be feeling lonely. Scared. Might need each other. After conversing for a while, they’d realize that they both had hated spinach when they were children and had uncles who were alcoholics. After discussing this for a while, they’d probably share the rice.”

Ultimately, Marçal poses a crucial question.

“That we humans can react in this way, doesn’t that have economic importance?”

This plausible scenario is just one example of why I have faith in humanity. It may seem small, but large-scale change always occurs on the individual level before it reshapes society. I’m not saying that we can solve all of the world’s problems by holding hands, but I do believe in the fundamental good in humans. If we lose that faith, we will lose our reason to fight.