Every day, on my way to work, I witness, and co-star, an amazing event. The drivers in the row of cars I drive in, even though they have the right of way, take turns giving way to those others who, when leaving the ring road, take the detour to enter Arrecife.
If we look at it closely, that gesture, given to the joy of the purest altruism, is one more of the countless acts of kindness, empathy and sensitivity that occur daily. In a world accustomed to noise, it is sometimes difficult to see something that is more frequent than we think: that good far outweighs the bad.
This, that of human nature, is a debate that raises numerous controversies and conflicting positions. Is man, as Thomas Hobbes said, a wolf to man? or, on the contrary, according to Roussseau and the concept of the "good savage", are we good and is it society that corrupts us? Are we aggressive chimpanzees or compassionate bonobos, with whom we share 99% of our genes? as Pablo Simón poses in his book: "Understanding Politics". The answer, experts say, can be found in science. And it is that in the depths of our being, we have both sides: the violent and the kind. Knowing this brings peace of mind: we can choose, but how do we go in one direction or another? And our sons and daughters? What options will they choose?
Mine, just two and a half years old, has already started, they say, the Why stage. Without going any further, the other day, he was able to repeat it six times in a row and almost out of breath ask why the stones in the puddles are slippery. One, as a good father, strives to answer with the utmost tranquility and patience, as advised by "The Great Book of Lucía, my pediatrician" and the latest trends in assertive education. These are simple questions that prepare him for life. One, on the other hand, with the maturity and wisdom that the years give, has learned to choose from all the answers, the most accurate, the one that best adapts to the context, to use the exact nuance that the moment requires, to give it, like a perfect cut of a scalpel, the precise depth for a malleable and still very underdeveloped brain.
I was thinking about this, with the naive certainty of someone who considers himself worthy of solid pedagogical arguments, when, giving way to one of those cars that was joining from the ring road, I visualized a disturbing image in which my son, suddenly turned into a slightly older child, asked me with glassy eyes and a broken voice: Daddy, why do adults kill children?
