Biological Machines We Use: Love Doesn't Exist

Human beings do not love each other: they are used as tools

There is a thesis that repeats with more insistence than office optimism allows: human beings do not love each other; they are used. Biological machines programmed to survive, tread on other animals, and eventually fall ill and die. The formulation is harsh, and its basis is not philosophical but accounting: someone who recognizes giving half of their salary to the State so that it performs good works. Not for their neighbors. For the State.

Half of the salary goes to the State and no one else

That is today's most solid argument for the thesis. The donor does not give to whom they wish; they give to an institution that redistributes according to its own criteria. Generosity is delegated and, incidentally, depersonalized. On the other side of the scales, individual philanthropy fares no better: there are those who hold that parental love for their children is a mechanism of genetic perpetuation, selfishness disguised as tenderness, and that no one audits this accounting. The full development of this argument—filial love as self-interest, the imposition of birth as a starting point—takes up more space than it has here.

Cioran, Camus, Benatar: the impossible originality

None of this is new, and the thesis itself accepts this without embarrassment. Cioran, Camus, Schopenhauer, or Benatar wrote the same thing decades or centuries ago: that birth is an imposition, that death is a biological failure and not a metaphysical destiny. The most uncomfortable conclusion is that whoever believes they have discovered the truth about human nature arrives late, and in a very frequented place.

With these pieces, the reasoning leads to a logical conclusion: if every bond is instrumental, love does not exist as a separate category. And yet, most people continue to pay, care for, and raise.

Is it custom, is it antiestéticar, or does the thesis fail right at the last stretch?