We Defend Compassion or We Die
A few weeks ago, on January 27, the Doomsday Clock hit 85 seconds to midnight. The clock, which is maintained by some of the world’s most distinguished scientists, shows how close we are to destroying Earth. And in the last year, a combination of global conflicts, environmental catastrophes, and technological threats have pushed the clock to its most dangerous point in history.
There is almost no discussion, however, of the best strategy for taking us off the path to doomsday: defending compassion. In an era of rising cruelty, only compassion can save us. The reason is that compassion, not material might or technology, is the most powerful and benevolent force in human history. And the only way to sustain compassion into the 21st Century, and reverse the Doomsday Clock, is to focus on those who need it most: the animals.
We have two important summits focused on defending compassion: one in NYC this Saturday, Feb 21, and another in Wisconsin on March 13-15. Sign up now, as you’ll receive training for upcoming rescues, including the effort to save the Ridglan dogs.
I have made this argument previously in a blog I wrote in jail. But the evidence that we are on the path to doomsday is becoming even more unmistakable. German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, just a few days ago, admitted that an international system “based on rights and rules no longer exists.” When a powerful nation decides it wants to break the rules—e.g., by kidnapping or killing another nation’s leaders—it simply does what it wants, rules be damned. Students of history have noted that this “might makes right” mentality could lead to world war—or worse.
How could compassion reverse these dangerous trends?
To understand this, we have to understand the nature of power in human history. Too often, people confuse power with material might. Yet when you look through history, some of the mightiest civilizations in history have started with little material wealth. Consider that the British Empire, the largest empire in history, started on a barren island with no significant resources to speak of.
Power is also often said to come from technology. Britain became a global power due to the Industrial Revolution, which brought new weapons onto the battlefield, such as coal-fueled iron warships. The United States has since replaced Britain as the world’s superpower because of its ability to innovate, from the atom bomb to AI. While “technology is power” is closer to the truth, it still gets things wrong. Many of the most technologically-sophisticated civilizations in history—from Rome to China—have fallen in the face of barbarian tribes.
There is something more fundamental that is required for true power: cooperation. Across a wide range of social scientific disciplines, from economics to network science, power is now understood as the result of, not material might or technology, but the ability to effectively harness that might and technology through cooperation.
Harvard evolutionary biologist Joseph Henrich has called our species’ extraordinary ability to cooperate our “collective brain.” Numerous animals are stronger and smarter than us at individual tasks. But none can work effectively across thousands of miles, or learn efficiently from words written over thousands of years. Complex cooperation of this sort, Henrich argues, is the “secret of our success.”
But there is a secret behind that secret. No one will cooperate if the system treats her with cruelty. This is why Nobel Prize-winning economist Daron Acemoglu has found that “extractive political institutions”—such as slavery or serfdom—cause nations to fail. When people see they’re being used, they stop cooperating. The only way to sustain cooperation is to build institutions with compassion.
You can see this in the march of compassion through history. Christianity took over the world because of its compassion to outsiders; it didn’t matter if you were a Jew or Gentile, Canaanite or Israelite, you could still be part of the Christian team. Western democracies in the Enlightenment took this a step further by moving beyond religion to universal human rights. “Give me your tired, your poor. Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” the Statue of Liberty promised to the world. This compassion inspired cooperation—and built power.
But now that compassion is failing. Nations across the world are rejecting the words of the Statue of Liberty and looking towards “outsiders” with cruelty. Russians versus Ukrainians. Jews versus Muslims. Americans versus immigrants. It is no surprise that, with this decline in compassion, we are also seeing a decline in power. We cannot compete with authoritarian nations because we are becoming as cruel as them.
The only way to reverse this is to see the historical pattern—the march of compassion from Christianity to Enlightenment —and take the next step: compassion for all sentient beings. The treatment of those who are most vulnerable, animals, is a test for the entire system. How could anyone trust a system that treats defenseless creatures with such sickening cruelty?
When we are kind to animals, in contrast, it guarantees that powerful systems are acting as they should. They are protecting the defenseless beings who have no way of filing a complaint, much less fighting back. This inspires cooperation and trust. Compassion for animals, however, also does something even more profound. It changes who we are. For thousands of years, humanity was defined by warmongers, dictators, and tyrants. If we defend compassion, we will be defined by a different role: caretaker of the universe, and all its sentient beings.