2. Are humans good or evil?

The two poles of our identity

Even in ancient times, Chinese philosophers were asking themselves whether humans are good or evil:

Mong Dsi (or Mengzi; around 300 BCE) says that human nature is good:

‘Natural impulses carry the seed of goodness within them… If someone does evil, then the fault does not lie in his nature. … The feeling of compassion is inherent in all people… Love and… wisdom have not been instilled in us from outside, they are our original possession.’ (Höffe, Otfried: Lesebuch zur Ethik.)

Hsün-Tzu (or Xunzi; around 250 BCE) says that human nature is evil:

‘Human nature is evil, and what is good about a person is the result of their efforts. Our human nature is such that we are interested in material gain from an early age. If a person gives free rein to this interest, then quarrels and robbery arise. … From an early age, people feel envy and dislike.’ (Höffe, see above)

During the Enlightenment, Rousseau and Hobbes expressed themselves in the same way. Why ask questions about who we are and about human nature? Because everyone is subject to it and needs a certain understanding of it: everyone tries to optimally control their own behaviour and decisions and to be able to assess the actions of others, e.g. in education, in business, in the family, etc. In this respect, clarification provides information about how to live.

The inscription above the ancient Greek temple of Delphi, ‘Gnothi se auton’, i.e. ‘Know thyself’, is an invitation to profound self-knowledge, which is crucial to a fulfilled life. This means not only material well-being, but also a successful spiritual life that answers the question of meaning and through which a person realises his or her destiny.

Regarding the ‘evil’ part of human nature: Georg Büchner’s letter on fatalism is quoted at the beginning:
‘What is it that lies, murders and steals in us?’

In an ironic way, Wilhelm Busch comments on the negative side of human nature:
‘Virtue needs encouragement,
wickedness you can do on your own.’
(Wilhelm Busch: Plisch and Plum)

The Portuguese monk (co-founder of São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro) Manuel de Nóbrega wrote in 1559:
‘In the beginning of the world there was only murder and slaughter.’
(Ben Kiernan: Earth and Blood, p.9)

Herrmann Knaur: Kain und Abel-Gruppe. 1845. Stadtgeschichliches Museum Leipzig, Nr. 107b. Wikimedia Commons.

The story of Cain and Abel says in a symbolic form that the use of violence is at the beginning of human history and thus belongs to the basic facts of the human software. Abel stands symbolically for the spiritual part of the software in man, in which the spiritual side of the soul dominates, while Cain represents the instinct-dominated part in man. The holy book of Judaism, the Tanakh (Christian name: Old Testament), says:
“...the thoughts of their hearts were only evil continually.’ (Genesis 6)

But we are called upon to become master over this demon, and the most important thing, to be empowered to do so:
‘…sin desires you, but you rule over it.’ (Genesis 4)

Binary identity

In the drama ‘Closed Society’ by the French writer Jean-Paul Sartre, three people find themselves trapped in hell after their physical death due to their earthly sins, constantly bothering each other and getting on each other’s nerves: ‘Hell is [always] the others.’

In Sartre’s play, the protagonists end up hopeless, they don’t know how to get out of this hell and resign themselves to it. Garcin says: ‘So – let’s continue!’ But he is wrong, there is a way out. It consists of recognising the ego as such and as a control programme from ‘below’ and then deactivating it step by step through observation and countering.

A top-class professional footballer who had been banned from playing several times because he had bitten opponents was asked why: ‘I can’t explain it. It just happens, there’s so much anger in me.’ (Spiegel 41/2014).

He did not recognise the reason, but at least he lifted a corner of the veil. The way out is to recognise hell as the destructive barrier that prevents us from looking behind the surface of the person. Hell, the instinctual soul, the instinct of self-preservation, egoism, this hell is the exclusive view of the otherness of the human being on the other human beings. Hell – Goethe calls it Mephisto – wants to prevent the ‘deep insight’ (Buddhist), the view of the ‘father in me’ (Jesus), the view of the inner voice, of the spiritual soul, of ‘the innermost voice of the deity’ ( ‘re Stimm’ (Gita XVI,24), on the image (Gen. 1,26 f.), on intuition, on the fact that one ‘only sees well with the heart’ (Saint-Exupéry: The Little Prince). By hiding the inner unity, it wants to cement the material view of the outer distance. Only in this way can it prevent the reduction of the self-preservation software. That is why hell takes great care to ensure that love is limited to those who are physically ‘nearest’ and is never extended to strangers (Parable of the Good Samaritan), asylum seekers, foreigners, nasty neighbours or even enemies (Sermon on the Mount: Mt 5:44). Because that would be reducing self-love from 100% to 50% (‘… as yourself’: Mt. 22:39).

The Islamic mystic Rumi tells the famous story of the parrot in the cage on the subject of ego reduction:
“A merchant had a beautiful parrot in a cage. The man was about to go on a business trip to India and asked everyone in his household what he should bring them. He also asked the parrot for a souvenir. The parrot asked the merchant to tell other parrots in India about his situation in the cage and that he would like to hear from them what a solution might look like for him. The merchant promised to pass this on.
When he arrived in India, he met some parrots and conveyed the request. Immediately after hearing this, one of them dropped dead.

When he returned home, the traveller told his parrot what he had experienced. When he heard this, he dropped dead on the floor of the cage. The merchant was deeply saddened and took the bird out of the cage. Suddenly, the bird spread its wings and flew up into a tree. He explained the deception to the astonished man: the parrot in India had faked its death to signal to the prisoner that he should also ‘die’ in order to finally be set free. (Rumi: Mesnevi I, 1556 – 1920)

rfcansole Can Stock Photo csp 17167163

Since man can ‘do nothing of himself’ (John 5), his behaviour is fundamentally controlled by the influx from below (egocentric self-love) and from above (altruistic self-love and love of others). This means that man is controlled by both matter and spirit; therefore he behaves divinely or beastly, depending on whether his soul is instinctive or spiritual. The source of his behaviour does not come from within himself. In this respect, his independent identity consists ‘only’ of using his free will to operate the mixing lever of his consciousness. It is the place for this decision-making lever between mind and body, and as such it contains material – physical and psychological – as well as spiritual parts.

This – at least in principle – free will of the human being is in control of the mixing valve and can (more or less) freely decide whether and how much influence it gives to the respective influx in its consciousness. Of course, this presupposes that he is aware of this existential situation, which – as I said – is usually not the case. Until then, his free will is severely restricted or mostly only exists as potential. What is crucial, however, is that he can learn to detach himself from the control of his drives. He is then able to consciously free himself from the control of his drives and logic and to give his intuitive guidance space in every decision-making situation. The symbol for this is the confrontation with the two trees in paradise: the fact that we have to choose between the two has not changed to this day. In this respect, man finds himself in an intermediate position between above and below, between animalistic and spiritual consciousness. Everyone is, so to speak, both Lucifer and Christo (ferre: to carry).

“Heaven is in you

and also the torments of hell,

what you choose and want,

that you have everywhere.”

Angelus Silesius: Cherubinischer Wandersmann, Book I, Verse 145)

Its relay share in its behavioural control is quantitatively minimal and amounts to perhaps 1%, but qualitatively it is crucial. To put it in the terminology of mathematical physics (chaos theory): The flap of a butterfly’s wings triggers a hurricane. This one percent, however, requires all our strength and stamina. While the decisions for self-preservation are virtually handed to us on a plate, recognising the divine life behind our material life is only the result of a laborious path.

In this constellation, the human mind (see below: Forrest Gump) is only a tool of operative perception, an instrument that can receive and intelligently process input, but only appears to be independently creative. The fact that it cannot create is a serious insult to the ego, especially to the ego of the natural sciences, for example. They imagine that they can use their intellect to achieve anything, to play God, for example by designing human beings or by cloning. The misunderstanding is that the computing and linking operations of the intellect with their intelligent results were created by this same intellect and suggest self-control. For example, meteorological computers develop worldwide forecasts of weather developments with a high degree of probability based on their programming and countless measurement data. This makes it appear as if it was the computer itself that generated the forecasts. The fact that the programmers are behind it all remains just as much in the dark as the fact that they, in turn, are in competition with rationality and ideas (intuition). Puccini, for example, expresses this through his confession:
‘I don’t compose. I do what my inner voice tells me.’
In doing so, he makes it clear that he is aware that his ideas and inspirations are not his own.

Man seems to have creativity, which can be seen in his decisions to go to war or to ruin the climate, but also, on the other hand, in medical, technical and social progress. But these are merely choices, i.e. decisions between two given paths. Murder and mayhem on the one hand, and on the other hand saving lives in emergencies, are decisions between impulses from ‘below’ or ‘above.’ Here, humans can choose between them – at least in principle. In principle, they can pull the lever up or down and, with the help of their minds, elaborate and realise these concepts and even optimise them: Do I build a nuclear bomb, do I found a Red Cross? Do I embezzle money from the association’s funds? Do I risk my life putting out forest fires or in development aid in war zones?

The earthly laws of Cain and Abel were already there before man, he has nothing to do with their creation and can only deal with them. Einstein did not invent relativity, he only discovered it.

The lion in the savannah has a single program that controls it: the mammalian program of self-preservation. It hunts, eats, mates, defends its territory, bites competitors away, protects its offspring and gathers fresh strength in its resting periods. It is at the mercy of this program; it cannot get out of it.

Humans – and this is the difference to mammals – have two. On the one hand, he follows exactly the same animalistic programme of self-preservation as the lion, and usually more than 99% of the time. But beyond that, the spirit soul slumbers within him, the spiritual programme of overcoming separation, called love. (This kind of love is spiritual, goes beyond the two levels of earthly love such as erotic and sympathetic love (see the love chapter below) and is based on insight.) He is the only mammal that can break out of animalistic control. This second programme is the qualitative difference to the animal. It is there to overcome the first. It is supposed to lead man to his destiny, to self-knowledge of the inner divine being that lifts him out of the world of suffering. The path to this second programme of consciousness and behaviour is the only topic of all wisdom scriptures of all cultures and peoples.