Henry Muhumuza

I despise human nature. I really do. Almost everything we do can be explained by Richard Dawkins’ The Selfish Gene. The constructive criticism suggested by a colleague during a meeting in the name of “finding a solution,” yet really a last-ditch attempt to avoid leaving the room without having said anything important. The disdain from an older adult, thinly veiled as genuine advice for your wellbeing. The gossipy warning about someone behind their back, packaged by the gossiper as an act of looking out for you. The philanthropist who donates millions to the poor in Africa. The polished shoes and crisply pressed shirt I wear every morning. Even this blog post itself.

Look deeper and you'll always find an incentive underneath. Never in my life have I seen anyone act against their interests. Their incentive may not seem obvious in the moment but it exists and satisfies a core need—however absurd—in them or else it wouldn't motivate behaviour. Honestly, anyone who tries to defend the purity and altruistic nature of their actions makes me cringe.

And I’m not saying all this to make you suspicious of everyone. I don’t want you to become some paranoid freak. On the contrary, it’s a call for deeper introspection. A call to be in touch with your core. To understand what actually motivates you at the most fundamental level. The many layers of complexity you pile upon your core never change its intrinsic nature; they simply distract you from the work you should be doing.

That core is the individual: the insecurities, fear, envy, love, lust; it's all you. Recognize and own them. The human brain is so brilliant at protecting itself from discomfort that it can even hide the true identity of the host from himself.

Ironically, the key to acting selflessly is realizing that all action springs from a fundamentally selfish core. And no, this isn’t a contradiction. Even selfish intentions can produce selfless outcomes—utilitarian ethics lives on this logic. Think of the philanthropist who admits he donates because it makes him feel good about himself (selfish), but in doing so helps millions of children (selfless).

There is liberation in that honesty. It reveals how pretentious you are, how flawed and performative you are. Knowing that you’re driven by motives that aren’t noble makes you take yourself less seriously. And it isn’t a call to impulsivity; it’s a lifestyle of free-flowing simplicity. Energy-saving, too—less effort wasted on an ostentatious display of good intentions.

This philosophy also shapes how you relate to others. You’ll notice how almost everyone is full of bullshit. You’ll take praise and criticism the same way: lightly, loosely, without letting them define you. Nothing to care about.

You’ll also become more empathetic. An insult might be someone’s fragile core leaking through its armor. Insecurity hides behind arrogance, fear behind hyper-competence, envy behind moral judgment, and resentment behind advice. Human beings are just walking contradictions, constantly leaking their inner turmoil from the cracks.

I don’t know where this is going, so I’ll stop here.