Family first? A humanist dilemma

By Cathy Silman

Most of us believe in fairness and equal opportunity. Yet when it comes to our own families, those ideals are often challenged by a much deeper instinct. In this thoughtful and deeply personal article, Cathy explores the tension between our evolutionary impulse to favour our children and the humanist aspiration to treat all people with equal moral concern. Is there any way to reconcile the two? Cathy is a volunteer for Citizens Advice, former Secretary of Dorset Humanists, and a Humanists UK schools speaker.

The dilemma I discuss in this brief article is whether it is morally right for my love for my children and grandchildren to be the strongest driver of my actions – even when those actions work against the very principles I claim to hold. As a humanist, I believe that the rights of all people should be considered of equal importance. I value reason and I agree with the Golden Rule.

I proclaim these to be my values, yet I must admit to a profound inconsistency. When I have attempted to discuss my conflicting aims with friends, they say: “It doesn't make sense. We know you are committed, like we are, to sharing wealth more justly in society.” But in my own eyes, I am a hypocrite. I argue passionately in favour of equality for all, support for those who struggle, a fairer division of wealth and, above all, cheap, affordable housing. Yet, what am I actually going to do with my own house when I die? I am going to leave it to my children and grandchildren.  

If all goes to plan, my children will have paid off their small mortgages fairly soon. They have jobs, plans for pensions, good health and supportive friends. They do not actually need my house. Unless I end up spending everything on nursing home fees, they will inherit money that they may enjoy having, but don’t really need. Unlike regular income, they will pay no tax on that windfall. They will receive it all without actually doing anything to earn it. Nor did I, except for a very small proportion.

“It feels like in the 2020s, we no longer live in a meritocracy where hard work pays off. Instead, we have evolved into an ‘inheritocracy’ driven purely by family wealth.” Eliza Filby, Inheritocracy: It's Time to Talk About the Bank of Mum and Dad (2025)

The myth of hard work

The zeitgeist of our time, by definition, is different from that of earlier generations. The poverty line in our society has risen considerably since I was a child. I understand this, but I still consider myself reasonably well-off; if my boiler breaks down, the main worry is finding someone to mend it, rather than panicking over whether I can afford it. Did I gain this comparative affluence purely through hard work, or was a large part of it due to external factors?

Very many people I come across, including some humanists, do not consider themselves well-off, despite living what I view as a reasonably affluent lifestyle. They feel entitled to a more luxurious retirement because they “worked hard all their lives”. Many of them own houses worth at least £400,000. What stops them from taking equity release on a quarter of that value and swanning off on a long-awaited cruise? “I couldn't do that”, they say. “It's for the children.” Why is this instinct to prioritise family over less fortunate strangers – or even our own enjoyment – so completely overwhelming?

Even among people who do not have direct descendants, I see this same need to prioritise family, or at least those most like them. Those who have nieces, nephews, or distant relatives still tend to leave them the bulk of their estate. If they do leave money to charity, they usually choose local causes they feel close to – such as animal shelters, health charities, or poverty relief in Britain. They rarely choose overseas causes, which are arguably far more desperate and deserving. Why does the need to help those closest to us always win? Evolution may be the answer, and it is a very difficult opponent to fight.

The evolution of my feelings

In his book The Invention of Good and Evil: A World History of Morality, Hanno Sauer outlines “Hamilton’s Rule”. This biological principle explains the origins of our morality long before Homo sapiens even became the dominant species. The rule states that we can count on altruistic actions under specific conditions, even if they disadvantage the helper – namely, if the action comes at a low enough cost, and the giver and receiver are closely enough related that the helper is essentially protecting their own genes. These altruistic actions diminish the more distantly related the receiver is to the helper. When early hominins first stood on two feet to better view prey and predators on the African savannah, they survived by hunting in small family units. Over time, they realised the advantages of expanding these groups to extended kin. Yet, even then, these small groups were constantly on the lookout for rival factions who might steal their prey. The “them and us” dynamic had begun.

Hamilton’s Rule does not, however, explain selfishness. The difficulty is that evolution directs our generosity primarily towards those who share our genes. Humanism, by contrast, asks us to extend our moral concern beyond family and tribe to humanity as a whole. My dilemma lies between these two competing forms of altruism.

Cooperation with our nearest kin, and with those who had a vested interest in helping our group, bred further cooperation, whilst the need to defend our resources fostered aggressive tendencies. The roots of what we now recognise as good and evil had emerged. Eventually, these small groups combined with other large families to reap the benefits of an agrarian society. There was more benefit to cooperation, but because agriculture brought static wealth that had to be defended, it also fostered aggression toward outsiders. To protect what was theirs, these groups needed to consolidate their collective identity – and vilify those beyond the perimeter.

We are still fighting those exact same tribal mechanics today. My socialist ideals want a fairer world, but my evolutionary DNA demands that I protect my lineage first. Globalisation and technology evolve far more rapidly than our evolutionary instincts. However, I do have a choice. I can find the strength to resist this evolutionary urge. As our brains evolved beyond those of other species, cultural evolution enabled reason to join instinct and emotion in shaping human behaviour.

A possible, although unpalatable, solution

I may wish for a fairer world for everyone, but have not resisted the pull of evolution and have chosen my children’s comfort over the common good. It is a sobering realisation that the greatest obstacle to the equal society I campaign for is not selfishness but love – specifically, the deep evolutionary impulse to favour those closest to us over equally deserving strangers.

Our intellectual development has enabled capitalism to become the accepted norm, benefiting humanity in countless ways. Yet it has also exposed a profound dilemma: our evolutionary instinct to favour our own children now sits uneasily alongside ideals of equality and social justice. Thomas Hobbes thought humans were doomed to live with never-ending conflict, whereas Jean-Jacques Rousseau thought that man had a noble nature that was only corrupted by living in large societies. Both views suggest that humans find it difficult to live in ways that fully reflect ideals of equality. I suggest the only way to overcome this deadlock quickly is for the state to intervene. In effect, I’m asking society to solve a moral dilemma that individuals are unlikely to solve on their own.

I would fully support an inheritance tax that permitted an individual to leave, at the very most, the proceeds equivalent to the average local house price to direct relatives. The entire remainder of the estate would go directly toward building social or affordable housing.

Of course, as turkeys have never been known to vote for Christmas, so voters don’t tend to vote for political parties that suggest such taxes. Consequently, I think my children can safely look forward to their inheritance (assuming it isn't swallowed up by nursing home fees). I’ve chosen love for my family to triumph over my commitment to a fairer society. If people like me cannot overcome this evolutionary bias on our own, perhaps only collectively agreed rules can.