The Common good

What is the most cliche answer that a beauty pageant contestant can give when asked, ‘If you could make one change to the world, what would it be?’

Is it a): I would give myself bigger breasts.

Is it b): I would show everybody that I am not as superficial as they think I am… and, if I had a little bit of magic left over, give myself bigger breasts.

Or is it c): I would bring about world peace.

Yes, you are correct, the answer is, of course, c.

But I bet that when some of you presumptuous, prejudiced pigs hear these lovely, liposuctioned ladies answer with such abounding altruism, you wonder whether they are being entirely honest. Don’t you?

Well, I can understand why your experience of the world would lead to such a suspicious standpoint.

Because, yes, while almost all of us would love to see war eradicated and violence vanquished, few of us ever do anything to help make our pacifistic dreams come to pass. There are many causes that attract our sympathies and innumerable social concerns that we pay strident lip service to. However, when it comes to the crunch, most of us do next to nothing.

Why is this?

Well, for the most part, making the world a better place means making sacrifices, and as beings endowed with only a single, one-off, finite life, we are not big on the idea of sacrifice. Indeed, when faced with a zero sum contest between our own private prosperity and the common good, the vast majority of us favour the former. While virtually every non-psychopath wants more happiness, health and material comfort for everybody, few want it at the expense of their own.

Take, for example, a conversation I had with a nature-loving woman a few months ago.

We were chatting about the majesty of the countryside where she lives, and she was reflecting on the good luck that brought her into such fortunate circumstances.

“Yes, I can really take no credit for it all. Some of us get dealt a good hand and others are born into poverty and sickness. There is no sense or justification for it really,” she said.

After talking at length about wildlife, the cruel lottery of life, and the necessity of doing your bit for the good of others, she then, in what was a comically incongruous u-turn, said she would never allow a windmill to be built near her idyllic dwelling.

I looked at her, waiting to see if the irony of her sentiments would become apparent to her. But they didn’t.

“But they have to be built somewhere,” I said, “and more windmills means less fossil fuels, which is a good thing, right?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” she replied. “I have heard a few credible sources say that they can cause cancer in people that live near them.”

I left it at that and we moved on.

However, later on, I wondered whether this ostensibly intelligent, thoughtful, environmentally and socially conscious woman really believed that wind turbines were carcinogenic, or if she just didn’t like the thought of these robotic eyesores spoiling her view of the rolling hills that surrounded her house.

It struck me that, while she did seem sincere about wanting to help the planet and creating a sustainable world for her great grandchildren, she was unwilling to help cultivate such a future if doing so meant impeding her view of the heathered banks beyond her window.

Unfortunately, this is the reality of public service. To make the world a better place, you have to give up something that you value, be it time, money, opportunity. It is the willingness to do this that separates the truly charitable people from those that just chat about it – like me and your woman with the lovely view.