A bicycle trip around the world led two young Americans to the mistaken conclusion that “people are good.”
“Life is short and the world is big and we want to make the most out of our youth and good health before they’re gone.” This was Jay Austin’s response to people who asked him why he decided to embark on a trip around the world with his girlfriend, Lauren Geoghegan. It was a beautiful dream, but quite financially demanding, even for these young Americans who had good jobs. They planned to travel by bicycle, carrying only the bare essentials, and were determined to keep their expenses to a strict minimum. They planned to return home when they ran out of money.
The pair wasted no time in putting their plan into action. In July 2017, Jay said goodbye to his colleagues at the US Department of Housing and Urban Development and Lauren resigned from her position as an admissions officer at Georgetown University. Both 28 years old, they had packed their luggage to the last gram and were ready to embrace all the beauty the world had to offer. And there was plenty to embrace.
Jay was accustomed to discussing his life with friends and strangers alike. A few years earlier, he had moved into an elegant, well-equipped mobile home the size of a shipping container, which inevitably aroused questions from those around him. So, it came naturally to him to share everything they discovered and experienced on their trip on the Simply Cycling blog. They posted all the wonders and beautiful people they encountered on a shared Instagram account. Lauren greatly admired Jay, whom she described as “adventurous” and someone who “challenged her to grow.” Jay was vegan, and Lauren became vegetarian. He was an experienced traveller for whom comfort was not a priority. At 27, Lauren signed up to a bike-sharing service and started cycling to work. She was exceptional at connecting with people—”exceptional at giving to people, in a way that would have been exhausting to me,” said Amanda, her best friend. That’s why, when they said goodbye before the trip, Amanda felt she had to give Lauren some direct advice: “The minute your instinct tells you something is wrong—leave.” Amanda was worried about Lauren because she feared that Jay had a higher tolerance for danger than his girlfriend did.
And so, they left: South Africa, Europe, and Central Asia . . . As the days, weeks, and months of their journey accumulated, so did the stories and spectacular photos from along the way. There were difficult moments, as Jay said, because “when traveling by bike, you’re vulnerable to everything,” but there were also moments of divine beauty, because, as he also said, “with that vulnerability comes immense generosity: good folks who will recognise your helplessness and recognise that you need assistance in one form or another and offer it in spades.” In Kazakhstan, for example, a truck driver who saw them with their bikes pulled up alongside them and gave them two ice creams. In Kyrgyzstan, two little girls waited for them with flowers at the end of a mountain pass. Some locals welcomed them into their homes and treated them as guests of honour. This was the case in Morocco, where the family of a man named Abdul invited them to dinner. Abdul spoke no English, but they managed to communicate through the little Arabic Lauren knew. They were fed until they were “beyond satiated, full to the point of discomfort,” said Jay, and the dinner drew to a close “after several hours—and our emphatic promises that we really have had enough to eat.”
They also experienced intimidation on the roads , with locals blocking them with their cars, pulling them over to make them buy their products, or harassing them in the street. But overall, they said, the trip was a testament to human kindness. “Evil is a make-believe concept we’ve invented to deal with the complexities of fellow humans holding values and beliefs and perspectives different than our own,” Jay wrote in April 2018. “Badness exists, sure, but even that’s quite rare. By and large, humans are kind. Self-interested sometimes, myopic sometimes, but kind. Generous and wonderful and kind. No greater revelation has come from our journey than this.”
On 29 July 2018, Jay and Lauren’s bodies were found dead on a road in Tajikistan. They had been attacked while crossing the Pamir Highway, a road built during the Soviet era near the border with Afghanistan. Five assailants rammed them with a car and then got out of the vehicle and stabbed them. Five other cyclists were with them: two of them, a 56-year-old man and a 58-year-old woman from Amsterdam, were also killed. The three others, from France and Switzerland, survived.
A few days later, the Islamic State group released a video in which a group of young people claimed responsibility for the attack and pledged allegiance to the extremists. One of the young men in the clip accused Tajikistan’s leaders of “apostasy” and “selling their religion,” as well as allowing the country to be occupied by “infidels.” The young people then held hands and swore allegiance to the group’s leader, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. They then promised to kill the “infidels.” In early August of the same year, the Tajik authorities—who, after decades of economic and political turmoil following the end of Soviet rule in 1989, had declared 2018 the “Year of Tourism”—announced that they had identified four individuals suspected of leading the attack.
Post-war heroes
In the United States, some of the first press reports ironically perpetuated the idea that “a Millennial couple bikes through ISIS territory to prove ‘humans are kind’ and gets killed.” Conservatives used the tragedy to argue for tighter immigration measures and radical scepticism towards socialist policies in general. Some anonymous commentators were quick to criticise the two young people, with one user, “Mike”, writing on the Simply Cycling blog: “You can’t fix stupid”. “Allahu akbar” (“God is great”) was posted by a user who was more foolish than Islamist on Lauren’s Facebook profile.
However, even those commentators whose work was not anonymous did not hold back their contempt for the supposed mission of the two. Franklin Graham, the politically active son of evangelist Billy Graham, wrote on Twitter: “Be assured, evil does exist in this world. God warns us in His Word that Satan is prowling like a roaring lion and we are to be on guard.” It was only after this comment that he offered a phrase of consolation for the families of those killed.
However, the detached conviction with which Graham writes pales in comparison to the condescension of editorialist Bruce Bawer. In an article sarcastically titled “Death By Entitlement”, Bawer reviews what he considers to be the wisest reactions to the tragedy. In this context, he compares the two young people’s philosophy with Anne Frank’s vision. Shortly before the Gestapo deported her to Auschwitz, Anne Frank wrote in her diary: “In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.” “Austin’s blog also provides a window on his (and presumably her) hippie-dippy worldview and ultra-PC politics,” wrote Bawer. He then describes the statement of an online reader—who boldly claimed that “liberals are always so naive about human nature[;] conservatives…are realistic about it”—as “wise.”
Beyond the political implications of this comment, it is worth analysing what is and isn’t naive about our view of human nature. Only by delving deeper into the subject and observing its ramifications will we be able to argue rationally with ourselves about what our intuition tells us is wrong with the previous statement.
The wolf and the savages
What are people like in essence? How are we born into this world? Good or evil? The fact that we ask ourselves these questions shows that, despite evidence that could suggest a negative view of humanity, we believe there is a difference between human nature and behaviour. In other words, a person who does evil may not necessarily be evil. Likewise, a person who does good may not be good. Today, we consider both of these statements to be truisms.
However, in ancient Greece, where many of the ideas we hold today with conviction originated, the great philosophers saw things differently. Aristotle, for example, believed that human nature is fixed, not variable. He believed that people act on the basis of principles inscribed in their very being that cannot be negotiated. Just as an acorn contains the potential for a full-grown oak tree within it, so everything that exists has a purpose determined by the divine, said Aristotle.[1] Before Aristotle, Plato said through Socrates in his dialogue with Protagoras that no one intentionally chooses evil; only ignorance can cause us to not always choose good.[2]
The idea that human nature could be malleable under certain influences has been taken more seriously only in the last few centuries. Two of the most renowned proponents of this idea, despite starting from opposing premises, are Thomas Hobbes and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Hobbes believed that man is a beast to man (homo homini lupus) in his natural state, while Rousseau proposed that man would instinctively incline towards goodness if left in his original state (this concept is associated with the expression “noble savage”, though Rousseau did not use it in this way in any of his works).
According to Hobbes, the emergence of civil society served to counterbalance humans’ violent impulses. By agreeing to live in a human community, the individual surrendered some of his rights in order to enjoy the security afforded by the “social contract.” For Rousseau, however, the social contract brings with it destructive forces: social inequality and selfishness, which he believes stem from it. More specifically, he sees living in a society capable of producing the arts and sciences as a corrupting influence due to the tempting luxuries it promotes. It is worth noting that both Hobbes and Rousseau argued that humans have a natural state—bad in Hobbes’s view, and good in Rousseau’s—which is not implacable or determinative, but which can be, and is, radically transformed by societal pressure.
Bawer, the conservative editorialist I mentioned earlier, presents a simplistic contrast between liberals and conservatives that seems to favour Hobbes’s perspective. Bawer argues that human nature is essentially evil, using irony as his only argument. However, he stops just short of the conclusion that Hobbes did not shy away from formulating. Unlike the great political philosopher, Bawer does not explicitly state that an intrinsically evil nature would justify absolutist sovereignty (representative of those ruled, yet absolutist.) But there was no need to. For Republicans, the term “evil” automatically evokes a certain political direction—consider, for example, the famous expression coined by George W. Bush to justify military intervention in Iraq: “The Axis of Evil.”
Displaying the same smugness evident in the xenophobic comments he quotes, Bawer argues that not sharing conservative values is naive in itself. However, this is a logical fallacy because neither liberals nor conservatives are such homogeneous groups that they can approach a philosophical topic such as human nature in such a mathematical way.
The network of interpretations
Judging by Bawer’s statement, and bearing in mind that most conservative Americans are Christian, one might automatically assume that all Christians have a pessimistic view of human nature. In reality, however, Christianity has integrated a whole spectrum of answers to the question “What are humans like?” varying according to the tradition of interpretation or thinking that has influenced them. To understand this, we must realise that when Christianity refers to human nature, it may be referring to one of three states described in the Bible: created nature—humans were formed “in the image of God”; fallen nature—after the first humans, Adam and Eve, sinned, created nature changed and these changes were passed down through heredity to all humans until today (“disfiguring” the image)[3]; and restored nature—degenerate nature will be completely recreated when Christ the Saviour returns and the righteous will be resurrected for eternity.[4] The difference between these three states is defined by reference to the biblical notion of “sin.”
According to theologian Miroslav Kis, biblical authors use about 12 Hebrew and Greek words to convey over 35 connotations of the idea of “sin,” as referenced in an article published at Andrews University. However, this abundance of terms betrays an inability to convey the concept of “sin” exhaustively. Kis himself acknowledges that, although sin is real, it remains an enigma to humans. He wrote that, quoting the words of Reformed theologian Gerrit Berkouwer, “we do not know from whence it is or what it is. It is here, and has no right to be. . . It has come into our world without a motive and is nevertheless the motive for all men’s thinking and doing. For that reason this ‘motivelessness’ of sin cannot find its origin in God. This force, or this sin ‘is nothing and has nothing and can do nothing apart from the beings and powers which God has created. And yet it organises all these for rebellion against Him.'”[5] However, while not explicitly dissecting its origins, the Bible defines “sin” as the cause of evil, a cause that dwells within humans and requires a distinction to be made between “sin” as a nature and “sins” as evil deeds or behaviour contrary to the divine order.[6]
Throughout history, Christianity’s attempts to understand the spiritual nature of humanity have been guided by several major lines of interpretation, each with further ramifications.
One of the most influential of these is the Augustinian tradition, adopted by the Protestant reformers. This tradition teaches that, after the Fall, mankind still retained the image of God but “could no longer help but sin.” Most evangelical churches today adhere to this doctrine: humans are made in the image of God, but the Fall has affected their abilities and nature so profoundly that they are incapable of desiring or achieving goodness through their own reasoning.
The semi-Pelagian interpretation has its roots in late antiquity. The English monk Pelagius, a contemporary of Augustine, taught his disciples that original sin did not have catastrophic effects, that there was no “sinful nature,” that the human will is completely free, and that the ability to think is distorted only by evil influences. During Pelagius’s lifetime, the Christian Church condemned the monk’s views as heretical. However, it did not replace it with anything solid, also rejecting Augustine’s “competing” view because it led to the unacceptable conclusion of double predestination (i.e. since the gift of salvation cannot be refused and, according to Scripture, some people will be lost for eternity, it follows that God predestines twice: those to be saved and those to be lost). Over time, however, Thomas Aquinas partially adopted Pelagius’s views, and the Catholic Church integrated them into its doctrine of salvation through grace and good works.
In the 17th and 18th centuries, in reaction to the predestination believed in by the great reformers, the Dutchman Jacobus Arminius began teaching that the chosen and the unchosen alike are recipients of God’s loving grace, which would be sufficient for salvation if received with faith. According to Arminius, humans are born in a completely fallen state and need to be regenerated. However, even in the unregenerate person, there is a capacity to respond to the divine touch. God’s grace enables man to desire goodness, and proximity to God empowers him to act virtuously. Arminius’s view differed from that of Calvin and other Reformers in that he maintained that humans have the ability to reject God’s grace. This view was adopted by John Wesley[7] and the Methodists[8], and remains one of the most prevalent interpretations in American Christianity today.[9]
John Locke’s philosophical view is the third identifiable tradition of thought within Christianity. Although Locke believed in the existence of sin, he considered it to manifest itself in human life through the experience of the natural world rather than as a result of an innate tendency or fixed principles inherent in humans. According to Locke, the human spirit enters the world like a blank sheet of paper, and is filled with knowledge of good and evil as humans encounter different situations in life. This view was enhanced by the boundless optimism of the Enlightenment. For Enlightenment thinkers, man had never fallen; in fact, he faced no internal obstacles to progress. Evolutionism then freed this vision from the need for God as its ultimate cause. Humans were on an unhindered path to progress, driven by natural selection and the inheritance of good.
Just when it seemed that the discussion could not be innovated any further, existentialism came up with a fourth interpretation that would mark Christianity: mankind has no innate nature. Jean-Paul Sartre, the father of atheistic existentialism, argued that “existence precedes essence.” In other words, we inherit life itself from our parents, but no inclinations. We are therefore free to determine our own life’s path in all its aspects. Humans are free to choose who they want to become. A notable proponent of existentialism in Christianity is the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, who believed that humans do not have an evil or sinful nature because sin is not an inherent part of humanity, but rather a condition. In other words, humans can exercise their freedom to choose sin and turn it into their essence, but they do not necessarily do so.[10]
Although behavioural psychology succeeded existentialism chronologically, it proposed a philosophical return to determinism and also had its negotiations with Christianity. Behaviourism (introduced by BF Skinner) is based on naturalistic and materialistic premises and therefore excludes the idea of God. In principle, it is incompatible with Christianity. However, certain practical aspects of behaviourism have proven effective and have been adopted by Christians, particularly as they are referenced in the Bible.[11] From a behaviourist perspective, “human behavior is a product both of our innate human nature and of our individual experience and environment.”[12] Theologians such as Francis Schaeffer have criticised the evolutionary assumptions and deterministic and reductionist nature of behaviourist approaches to human beings. Schaeffer criticises behaviourism for leaving no room for freedom, responsible choice, the moral concepts of good and evil, or the idea of humans being created in the image of God. This is because behaviourism sees humans as machines that generate responses to stimuli, which does not require the postulation of higher processes such as thinking.[13]
It is not naivety, but the very foolishness of Christianity
Examining the range of influences that have shaped Christianity’s responses to the question, “What is humanity’s true nature?” it becomes clear that the answer cannot be simplified into just two perspectives: one naive and the other realistic. Christian theology has undergone significant variations in its doctrine regarding human nature. Some have enriched our understanding of humanity, while others have deepened the mystery. However, the prevailing view in Christianity today is that man is corrupted by the sin of his ancestors, making him capable of the atrocities that Hobbes described as “man is a wolf to man.” However, while Hobbes believed in civilisation through coercion imposed by a social contract, Christianity teaches that the restoration of the divine image in man is a miracle of love. This, by definition, excludes coercion. According to the Apostle Paul, obedience to God (the pursuit of good) is a miracle accomplished through the power of Christ (Romans 7:22-25). No matter how depraved human nature may be, the transformation of a depraved human being into a “new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17) is a miraculous promise of “being born again” (John 3:3) as a result of Christ’s sacrifice—a sacrifice so difficult to understand rationally that the Apostle Paul calls it “the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe” (1 Corinthians 1:21).
Rather than considering it a reason to start a war between humans (Matthew 7:3-5), Christianity sees our inherent depravity as an additional reason for solidarity.
Therefore, a truly conservative perspective—one that faithfully reconstructs the teaching of Scripture—will not condescendingly claim that young people who have recognised goodness in others are merely naive, since Scripture itself wants to make goodness attractive to us. Deception is so prevalent in Christianity that it should inspire humility rather than superiority. Even a third of the angels dwelling in the unmediated presence of the Most Holy One could be deceived (see Revelation 12:4, 9). Regardless of the philosophy of life held by the two cyclists, as long as it had no direct connection to their deaths, what matters more is that the world lost two sparks of God’s image. Some parents lost their children and some friends were left without their loved ones. Any other hierarchy has the same ethical quality as the contempt shown by a cynic for a Christian’s conviction that it is not the present man who is good, but rather the biblical promise that, when Christ returns, He will make those who have received Him good (1 John 3:2).
