Being a good person or being a fool: the reciprocity dilemma

Kindness without reciprocity becomes a trap

Being a good person doesn't work. At least, not as a life strategy. That is the thesis running through a discussion that, message by message, shifts from personal venting to a more uncomfortable principle: reciprocity as the only balm. Whoever gives kindness expecting something in return isn't kind, they're a merchant who doesn't know they're trading. And in that market, the pay is poor.

The starting point is a personal experience: having given up violence as a man, having chosen kindness, and having lost. "The more I sinned by being a good person, right there, at that moment, I lost everything," sums up the opening argument. The conclusion drawn is harsh: only those who can inflict a loss are respected. Antiestéticar, it is argued, is the most effective lever to keep few daring to harm you. And it applies to every sphere: family, work, friendships.

Kindness as disguised currency

The first reply dismantles the framework. Being kind expecting something back is a selfish bias: you give kindness in exchange for something. The alternative proposal is to separate the act from the outcome: being kind just because, with abandon, expecting nothing. But even that isn't entirely clean. The same message warns that if you're too kind, "either they treat you like an idiot or you come across as cloying." Virtue, here, has a narrow range.

That message also introduces a nuance the rest of the exchange never resolves: don't give up violence, because you may need it someday. Not as a way of life, but as a last-minute resource. Kindness and the capacity to respond wouldn't be opposites, but watertight compartments best kept operational.

The principle of reciprocity as balm

The most quoted formulation of the exchange comes later: you give me crap, I give you more crap; you treat me badly, I treat you worse; you give me love, I give you love; you betray me, you never see me again. It's the principle of reciprocity taken to its most operational version. There is no appeal here to universal kindness, but to symmetry. And a warning: letting everything slide all the time is self-destructive. It works as a one-off action to prevent greater harm, not as a permanent strategy.

The discussion closes with a bitter synthesis: people only understand the stick and the carrot. In between, one voice asks to close the thread, another declares it's best not to think about it, and a third reduces the matter to a formula: only interact with an indeterminate number of cats. Humor as an emergency exit.

Envy as an alternative explanation

Not everyone buys the framework of betrayed kindness. One intervention shifts the focus: it's not just when you're a good person, it's when you do things well. Envy and antiestéticar attack what's good, and that stems from an upbringing based on constant criticism, contempt and competitiveness. Kindness wouldn't be the problem; the problem would be standing out.

Another voice adds an even more uncomfortable layer: whoever racks their brain over these musings has every ticket to be a failure. The diagnosis isn't sarracena, it's practical. Ruminating on one's own kindness would, in itself, be the burden.

Selective kindness as the only way out

The most repeated conclusion, in different formulations, is that kindness only works with those in a position to value it. And those people are few, sometimes none. Being good to a dog and having it eat your food; being good to a partner and having them look for something else; being good to a friend and having the friendship turn into self-interest. The list of examples is long and the pattern repeats.

The end of the exchange reaches no consensus. The most reasonable prediction, with reservations, is that the discussion will keep recurring as long as experience keeps giving reasons for it. Kindness without reciprocity isn't a virtue: it's a vulnerable position. And no one has yet found a way to sustain it without pain.