Thinking in Evolutionary Terms

I notice that small, ambiguous movements can trigger a reaction before there is time to interpret them. When a leaf is swept by the wind slowly enough to be mistaken for a bug, my body responds first. It is not very different from a cat that jumps too high at a snake-shaped toy, even when the danger is artificial. Moments like this often bring evolution to mind.

It seems reasonable to assume that, during human evolution, being startled by small and uncertain movements had survival value. What looks like a harmless leaf could once have been an insect, a rat, something associated with poor hygiene or disease. Groups that were sensitive to such signals may have avoided risks more successfully than those who were indifferent. In that sense, the reaction is easily explained.

The same framework appears when I think about preference rather than reflex. I can spend an entire weekend choosing a horror movie that is scary, but not too scary. That, too, reflects an evolutionary echo: an inherited tendency to imagine external threats, to simulate danger at a distance, to rehearse fear in a controlled way. Sensitivity, anticipation, and preparation must have helped someone survive, at some point.

I use this logic not only to explain myself, but also to understand others. When a favorite artist’s lyrics shift from emotional precision to conspicuously biological enthusiasm, I try to interpret it through evolution: perhaps a moment when instinctive urgency overwhelms aesthetic hesitation. When someone is unexpectedly rude on the street, I catch myself thinking that aggression, too, may have once increased survival under certain conditions.

This way of thinking is calming. It replaces moral shock with coherence. Behavior becomes something that “makes sense.”

And yet, I have started to notice how easily this kind of explanation turns into justification, disguised as understanding. By leaning too heavily on biology, I lower humans from moral agents to animals under pressure. The explanation works only if I accept that reduction—and I am no longer sure that I should.

Human evolution did not stop at reflexes and impulses. It also produced social systems, norms, and moral reasoning—ways of deciding not only what we are inclined to do, but what we ought to resist. Explaining behavior purely through evolutionary advantage may be inconsistent with the direction humans have taken, especially in modern societies built on shared responsibility rather than raw survival.

Evolution unfolds over immense timescales; a human life barely reaches a century. Perhaps using evolutionary explanations to be generous toward others is sometimes less about truth than about emotional distance—about making discomfort manageable. Kindness and generosity matter, but when they rely on reducing humans to animals, they risk becoming irresponsible, or even dismissive of the long history of human cognition and ethical struggle.

I still do not know what the correct attitude is. I want to understand myself and others without cruelty, but I do not want understanding to dissolve responsibility. For now, all I can do is remain aware of how comforting explanations can be—and cautious about what they quietly excuse.