The Christmas story is one of humility, of hope for the salvation the world—a lovely message about the importance of love and service. It is the time of year when, no matter how briefly, we are encouraged to set aside our self-interest and to let kindness and love be our guides.
Sadly, more than two millennia after Jesus of Nazareth, the humble babe in the manger, began his ministry in the Levant, peace is a distant dream, as human hubris—not humility—shapes our world.
Book 1 of Genesis, says that God gave man “dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.” I can’t help but believe he made a mistake.
In a world fractured by hate, where world leaders promote acts of violence and factionalism, where tycoons wallow in greed, and where self-interest subverts most efforts to build for the greater good, it is hard to see how human hubris will not lead to our ultimate failure as a species.
Human hubris, a term derived from Greek mythology, signifies an excessive pride, self-confidence or arrogance—a fatal character flaw that can lead to destruction. The ancient Greeks considered hubris to be one of the most dangerous traits one could exhibit. The parable of the excessively exuberant Icarus proved the Greeks’ point. The self-confident youth disregarded his father’s advice and flew too close to the sun, thereby melting his wax wings and plunging to his death.
But Greek myths pale by comparison to the hubris displayed by real-life historical figures whose sense of entitlement, arrogance and invincibility led to their downfall. Napoleon, Hitler and even Robert E. Lee, all shared these character flaws, and all were among the vanquished, but not before becoming responsible for the ruin and death of millions of others.
It can be argued that the hubris of the individual is the most dangerous, but it is the over-weaning self-satisfaction of our species that worries me most. There is a common conception that human beings are exceptional creatures with the potential to rule the earth—just as God ordained in Genesis—to transcend all limits and rewrite the rules of nature. But look at the mess we are making of it.
Our assumption that we are superior to Earth’s other creatures overlooks their individual exceptionalism and sensibilities, even as our rampant disregard for the Earth’s health endangers their very existence.
The late renowned paleontologist and evolutionary theorist Stephen Jay Gould rejected the idea of human superiority, or the inevitability of humans’ rise to be the apex of evolution. He opposed the traditional “ladder” view of life that implies a steady movement from simple to more complex or “superior” forms. Instead, he proposed a “copiously and luxuriantly branching bush,” where the overall pattern of life’s history is a process of diversification and elimination, not inherent progress.
For Gould, human survival was not a given based on innate superiority. He conceded that our large brains grant us behavioral flexibility, but argued against embracing a false sense of exceptionalism, insisting that our long-term survival depends on understanding our place on the enormous bush of life.
If we want an example of how little nature cares about us, we need only look back five years to the months when a virus, a microscopic infectious agent that isn’t even a living organism, brought human society to a halt. And as we hunkered in place, trying not to breathe in each other’s air, nature flourished around us.
So, are we exceptional? Yes—but no more exceptional than other creatures are in their own right. The difference lies in the fact that, by whatever evolutionary accident, we truly do have dominion over the planet. Who we choose to lead us, the decisions they make and whether we choose to obey them will have serious implications for the entire globe.
Power is intoxicating and hubris as it affects politicians, business leaders, scientists, academia, the military, entertainers, athletes doctors—and even otherwise nameless “influencers”—is a clear and present danger. As the consequences of hubristic behaviors become even more apparent, it is imperative that we act to curb them.
We must reassert our humanity and that, by inference, suggests that we become more humble, more aware of our place in the global genome. The word “human” derives from the Latin word “humus,” which means “earth,” “soil” or “dirt.” Humus is also the root word for “humble,” meaning “not proud, haughty or arrogant.” We can—indeed we must—become more human, grounded through greater humility.
Kathryn Boughton is Editor of the Kent Dispatch. The views she expresses in Out on a Limb do not necessarily reflect those of Kent News, Inc., the parent company of the Dispatch.
