I think survival alone cannot be our highest priority. History shows that when “survival” is pursued narrowly — the survival of one race, one religion, one nation, or one class — it becomes the justification for atrocities. Hitler sought the survival of the Aryan race; countless religious wars were fought for the survival of the “true faith”; even today, leaders justify violence as necessary for national survival. In capitalism too, “survival of the fittest” has been invoked to excuse exploitation.
So the solution isn’t survival per se, but the way we define it. If survival means selective survival — my group at the expense of yours — then it only deepens conflict and hastens collective ruin. What we need is a shift in how we understand ourselves: not as isolated competitors, but as interdependent beings sharing one fragile system.
For me, the deeper task is re-education — not in a religious sense, but in a practical and existential one. We need to recognize the “operating system” of human nature: that we are driven by pleasures and desires, often unconsciously, like puppets. Unless we learn to rise above this ego-driven programming, no amount of technology, charity, or political reform will truly change our trajectory.
True survival must mean collective survival. That requires awakening to our interconnectedness and building unity, not just as a moral preference but as the only practical way forward.
For me, being a good ancestor is about planting the right seeds and ensuring they grow in the best environment. In our current world, where so much feels distorted, I see Effective Altruism as tending to the branches: addressing urgent needs and correcting immediate harms. That work is vital — we can’t ignore suffering right in front of us.
But if we only tend the branches and never touch the roots, the cycle will continue. Problems will keep sprouting in new forms, because the deeper cause — human nature itself — hasn’t been addressed. Just like in a garden, if we plant weeds, it doesn’t matter how often we pull them out; they’ll keep returning and choking what could have flourished.
To me, being a good ancestor means not only solving today’s crises, but also cultivating the soil — reshaping the roots of who we are — so that future generations inherit a garden where goodness can grow more naturally.