Strategic Selfishness

"Here's one," offers Dr. Wind. "A man had been wandering the bony desert for a day or two. Needless to say, he was starving, and his throat had dried out. An impossible miracle, let's say, struck one night when, in the middle of the cold, he saw lights from a distance. Approaching it, he discovered that the lights were lanterns, burning as if someone had just lit them, but he didn't focus his attention on that. The lanterns formed a circle around an oasis, but instead of water he found that it was a lake full of food, if you can imagine. Desperately, he crawled down the concave paradise and as soon as he grabbed some sandy piece of meat, he began gobbling it. He held one piece of food as he ate another—not even ate, he basically just shoved entire blocks of meat and cake down his throat. And then he choked. He found no water anywhere to push the food down. He started beating his chest, throwing himself on the ground, trying to make himself gag, all of it. But unfortunately, he didn't survive. He—or his greed, not even hunger—choked himself to death."

Dr. Wind, having told the story from behind the countertop, walks toward the red sofa and places the tray of sandwiches and glasses of juice that he prepared on the glass table.

"Come, eat," he says before sitting opposite to us, on a black couch.

I grab a sandwich; Carlson does, too. Dr. Wind looks at us.

"Now, what lesson is there in the story?" he asks. "We've been doing this for a while now but let me remind you again: a lesson besides the obvious one, which also happens to be far from being a good life lesson." He takes a bottle of wine and a wine glass from a cabinet near him. "Not a good life lesson: it's not practical not to be greedy, don't you boys think?"

There was a pause as Carlson and I quietly chew on our sandwiches. Dr. Wind pours wine audibly to his glass. When the sound of pouring stops, I look up as I imagine I am left alone. The silence isn't awkward at Dr. Wind's house, but it is chilling, as if the sound carries people away too. But Dr. Wind is still there, and so is Carlson.

I return my attention to Dr. Wind's question. The normative lesson to the story—the obvious and useless one, as Dr. Wind said—is to not be greedy. But if, in his search for an alternative answer, Dr. Wind wants us to say that to be greedy is the lesson, then how so? It didn't save the man from choking; indeed, it is precisely what caused him to choke and die.

'It's not practical not to be greedy,' he said, huh. As if it's useful to take and take—

It is. If only the man in the oasis did it right.

I clear my throat.

"But, like, don't just be greedy," I reply to Dr. Wind. "I mean, don't merely be aggressively greedy like the man in the story. Instead, be strategic about it. I think... I see the lesson now, Dr."

He sips from the glass. He's drinking white wine, I note.

"Tell us," Dr. Wind says; he and Carlson set their attentions at me. But I'm not as uncomfortable about it now as the first times. I try to organise my thoughts before speaking.

"The lesson is to not be greedy when you can't afford its consequences. Like, the man in the story knew he didn't have water, and that therefore he didn't have what it takes to afford to behave as aggressively in his greed as he did, no matter how his hunger warranted it. It didn't follow reason, his action."

Silence. Eyes fix on me. I need to make myself clearer.

"I mean, to be greedy is a game. There exists the probability of losing without proper strategy." I go on. "The man in the oasis didn't apply any strategy in his greed; he just played recklessly. If he were to apply a good strategy, then maybe he would've eaten slowly, carefully. Then maybe he couldn't have choked himself to death."

Dr. Wind nods carefully, leaning back in his seat.

"I think I get what you're saying," Carlson remarks thoughtfully, or maybe sceptically. He turns to the man with the wine.

"But Dr. Wind, we're talking about greed? How could the man have behaved greedily if he didn't act as he had, shoving the food down his throat? What, then, is greed? I think strategy and rationality remove the guilt of greed."

"'Does strategy and rationality remove the guilt of greed?' Huh, that's an interesting question, Carlson," replies Dr. Wind. "Defining greed as excessive selfishness—for really, regular selfishness is natural to everyone—the answer to the question becomes clearer."

"It does not," I respond before Carlson. "Strategy does not remove greed, because—"

"Then," Carlson interrupts. "How can we say the man was greedy when he doesn't show any act involving it? It doesn't make sense!" Carlson is heating up.

"You answer the question, Rem." Dr. Wind says to me, but also indirectly to warn Carlson against interrupting again.

I pause for a second. "Perhaps... perhaps in essence greed is intentional, not actual. If the man was strategic and didn't show through his action that he was greedy, he may still have been greedy intentionally if he considers the whole oasis as his. Like, if another man showed up and started eating from the pool, and the initial man were to banish him, maybe even kill him, then he was acting greedily. But intentionally, he knew he couldn't possibly own the entire oasis, even if he were to stay there for a long time—actually, without water, he really wouldn't last. He couldn't possibly eat the entire thing. And yet if he claimed to own the entire oasis for himself and himself alone, he would be excessively selfish then."

"Greed as the intent, not the act per se. Interesting, Rem." Dr. Wind sips from his wine glass again.

"I see it." Carlson sits deeper back in the sofa. "To be greedy... is to be selfish beyond the self."

After a moment of contemplation, Carlson speaks again. "But Dr. Wind, you're still not making any sense! What do you mean, then, that it's not practical not to be greedy? I get selfishness, and I get how it's not the same as greediness, which is to be excessively selfish. Why did you say that to not be greedy isn't practical? As if it is practical to be excessively selfish? Isn't what's excessive not practical? Isn't that what killed the man in the oasis?"

"Greed is practical, as in useful," replies Dr. Wind calmly. "Insofar as it sustains more greed. The object of acquiring is in acquiring more. In that case, the excessive desire to acquire is practical insofar as it leads to even more excessive desires. What killed the man in the oasis, however, was the misconception that excessive desires had to be acted out in an aggressive and instinctual manner."

A pause. I lean back in the sofa.

"Look," Dr. Wind, noticing the glass to be empty, pours himself another. "I'm not here to teach you not to be greedy. You know from the start that I'm not here to teach you idealistic nonsense like that. First, I wanted you to understand what being greedy means, and I say you did well. Next, I want you to learn, as Rem mentioned, to be strategic. I don't want that flame of getting more than you can possibly consume to be lost in you, but I don't want it to devour you either."

With the neck of the glass of white wine resting between his fingers he stood up majestically before us, shining on his white coat. "Instead, I want you to harness that flame. It's not only about being selfish, or about being excessively selfish; it's about being strategically selfish. Claim all to be yours, even when you can't reach it, even if you can't see it! But don't repeat the mistakes of those who desire too much. Apply strategy in holding what you claim. The framework of your strategy must be to take actual hold of as much of your claims, and that includes sacrificing short-term holdings if you recognise that doing so would lead to even greater holdings in the longer term. What's important is to know that you not only claim the present, but also the future. Don't do as in the case of the man in the desert, who forgot to recognise that he could not achieve the fulfilment of his greed to consume more when he's dead!"

He takes a gulp from the glass. "First and foremost, claim the souls of men; it's the most valuable asset you can claim. Frankly, you're only to claim material objects—which come second—simply because you will have already been too greedy. But the souls of men are really all there is. Without the soul—the mind—greed doesn't even exist. Neither is property, nor are claims. Greed does not exist in nature, mind you. Greed requires soul—without it, there is only selfishness, which is instinctual and common in nature. And so to claim the souls of men is to claim it all. The only strategical problem is in actually acquiring it, and on that you might need to invest materials, emotions, time, or energy."

"But remember, strategic selfishness involves letting go of something in exchange for something more valuable, because to be strategically greedy is to seek and acquire with careful thought objects of greater value. These objects are things that we don't even need, like others' souls, but which are to be acquired deliberately only for the sake of acquiring more."

I look at Carlson. In his hand, his sandwich; he still hasn't finished eating his first piece. He seems to be listening very carefully to Dr. Wind's words, though there's a slight crease between his eyebrows.

Dr. Wind continues on his speech, but my attention falls away from it. I realise I already know what he's saying, and I already understand perfectly where he's heading. I just don't know how to say it as Dr. Wind does.

I look at the plate before me. Dr. Wind makes really good sandwiches, though I'm not sure how can a sandwich be good like that. They're delicious. I feel full, but I decide to take another piece. My second out of the three prepared.