My father so appropriately put it that we are certainly the only animal that makes conscious choices that are bad for our survival as a species.
Interpretation
Humans often make decisions that are detrimental to their own well-being and survival despite having the capacity to choose otherwise.
Louise Leakey's quote highlights the paradox of human behavior, where, unlike any other species, humans have the unique ability to make conscious choices, but often these choices are detrimental to their own survival and that of the species. It underscores the complexity of human decision-making, illustrating that intelligence does not always lead to choices that benefit our existence, reflecting a deeper philosophical inquiry into the nature of humanity and our impact on the world.
In practice
This quote could be used in a discussion on environmental issues to illustrate how human choices impact the planet.
If you want to become a fossil, you actually need to die somewhere where your bones will be rapidly buried. You then hope that the earth moves in such a way as to bring the bones back up to the surface. And then you hope that one of us lot will walk around and find small pieces of you.
I think when you work on fossils, and you realize that a species is there, and it's abundant for quite a long period of time, and then at some point it's no longer there - and so, when you look at that bigger picture, yes, you realize that either you change and adapt, or, as a species, you go extinct.
Often times we call a man [or woman] cold when he [or she] is only sad.
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.
We prefer self-government with danger to servitude in tranquility.
The price paid for intellectual pacification is the sacrifice of the entire moral courage of the human mind.
I push against the tree and run away, stumbling, the unreal night playing with me, gravity pulling from below, behind, above, making me fall. And I run through a world that is rotating, conscious of the earth's spin, of our planet twirling as it careens through nothingness, of the stars spiraling above, of the uncertainty of everything, even ground, even sky. Mumtaz never calls out, although a thousand and one voices scream in my mind, sing, whisper, taunt me with madness.
To be realistic today is to be visionary. To be realistic is to be starry-eyed.
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