I find statements like “there’s more to life than raising children” infuriating, mostly because I surround myself with people who say such things with smug superiority, clueless about the absurdity of their sentiment. Having children is a basic human instinct; some might say the basic instinct — the root of our values. Do I admire intellect because it holds intrinsic value, or is the value hard-coded to optimise the survival of my offspring? The very intellect my friends lord over others is the product of instincts they berate.
We spend much of our lives in pursuit of someone to love, in the service of loving them, or in mourning their loss; love dominates our whole lives. Most people believe love is some metaphysical force for good. I believe love is a neurological response that ensures we procreate, common to those who exist because, to exist now, they have descended from ancestors who possessed this genetic trait.
And what of the crazy ones? The rebels, the misfits? The mutants1? Do they lack such genetics? Perhaps they simply occupy a niche in the market of suitors. A fractured lineage who survive at the margins in hopes of ascendancy under the right conditions.
I challenge you to think of an ostensibly noble value or pursuit that is not in service of our instinct to survive as individuals or as a species. We are slaves to our instincts; to deny them is to deny happiness. In fact, what is happiness if not a basic neurological response designed to reward us for following our genetic programming?
I can see value in someone not bearing children. Perhaps they spend their lives running a cake shop, or finding a cure for cancer. Noble, to be sure, but nonetheless rooted in an instinct to survive. Which bears the question, is our survival even important?
Humanity is just an infestation on the surface of a single ball of molten rock, suspended in a sea of nothingness, indistinct from billions of other such bodies in the sky. Would the universe even ripple if we ceased to exist? Would the earth? There is life here beyond humanity, would it be so remarkable if we gave over dominance to another species? We know we were not the first to dominate the earth, why are we sure we will be the last?
I smugly dismiss your hopes and dreams just as you dismiss those of people who spend their lives raising children. You want to spend you life writing apps, maximising KPIs, or burnishing your name into the history books? Who gives a fuck? Who will remember you when our species is extinct?
What do I want from life? What do I want from a relationship? I want to push all my genetic buttons. I want to love, and to maximise my happiness. I want to survive, to thrive, to procreate. I want to do what I have evolved to do. Why? To what end? I don’t know. But perhaps my children will2.