Is Man the Most Terrible Animal?

People love legends about the “good nature” and “difficult circumstances.” Convenient fairy tales to avoid looking in the mirror.

But the truth is simpler and more painful: everything most successful — we do ourselves. And everything most disgusting — we do, too.

There are no evil gods, no “system” as an abstract bogeyman, no fateful planet. There is choice. Ours. Daily. Conscious. And there are no excuses for it.

We are the only animal capable of calling evil good for the sake of gain.

We build factories of meaning that grind people into “resources,” and cities into backdrops for selfies.

We know how to cry over a movie and, the same night, sign papers that will destroy hundreds of lives.

We say “that’s how it is,” “nothing personal,” “everyone does it.” This isn’t the fog of circumstances — it’s our will, dressed up in a suit of decency.

Humans are frightening not for their strength, but for their distance.

We can switch off empathy in a snap: call someone “other,” turn them into a number, hide them in a report. In this distance, cold calculation is born: for every benefit, someone else pays the price.

If pain can be shifted — we’ll shift it. If we can avoid seeing — we’ll look away. If we can say “later” — we’ll say “later.”

That’s how wars are built, how corruption grows, how the air dies.

But we have all the tools in our hands. We’ve developed vaccines, protocols, rights, codes, architectures of trust.

We are capable of pulling ourselves out of the mud and moving forward — if we want to. Not a savior from the sky, not a great reformer, not the “next generation.”

Us. Ordinary people. Those who today sign, choose words, click “send,” make a transfer, pick up the phone, say “no.” In each of these atoms of decision lies the direction of the world.

Remember a simple formula: choice — action — consequence. There are no miracles in between.

When you sign a fake — you build a lie. When you “save your nerves” and stay silent — you feed violence. When you justify a scumbag friend — you become his accomplice. When you “just work” in a machine that grinds people — you are a cog in that machine. There are no clean hands in a dirty system.

Yes, the world is complex. But complexity is not an indulgence. “It’s not so clear-cut” — the favorite lullaby of cynics.

While you lull your conscience, someone nearby is already paying your price: with time, health, life. The antidote to self-deception is specifics. Names, sums, deadlines, consequences.

When you call things by their names, the smoke will clear. What remains is you and your act.

There are three tricks we use to fool ourselves:

1. Shifting responsibility.

“It’s the boss,” “the market,” “it’s the times.” No. It’s you — with your signature and your voice.

2. Blurring boundaries.

“Lie a little,” “steal just a bit.” Dirt doesn’t know how to be “just a bit.” It spreads.

3. Devaluing the victim.

“It’s their own fault.” That’s how any executioner makes himself coffee in the morning.

Want a measure?

Take the simplest test: if you can’t calmly explain your act to a child — it’s rotten.

Not justify, not cover it up with terms, but explain honestly. If you start weaving a fog of words — you already know everything.

“Is man the most terrible animal?” No. Man is the most responsible animal.

We know what we’re doing. And so our guilt is real — and so is our merit. No “that’s just how it happened.” It happened because someone chose it.

And yes, sometimes it’s impossible. Sometimes it’s scary. Sometimes it’s costly. But that is exactly where the line is drawn: between those who remain human, and those who become an excuse in someone else’s biography.

Remember this, outcasts of conscience, and repeat before sleep:

I will not say “everyone does it.” I will not hide evil behind someone else’s name and seal. I will not call it gain if it steals someone else’s life. I will not shift pain onto the weak. I will not stay silent where silence is complicity. I will start with myself, because there is no other beginning.

This is not poetry. This is a survival manual for the human in us.

Every day is a small trial. The judge, prosecutor, jury, and executioner — it’s you. And if the verdict is once again “it’s nothing,” don’t be surprised when, in the morning, the most terrible animal looks back at you from the mirror.