Unlocking Altruism: The Ancient Instinct That Makes Us Heroes to Strangers

I like evolutionary biologist Bret Weinstein quite a bit. I’ve seen him on a number of podcasts and his book (co-authored with his wife Heather Heying) A Hunter-Gatherer’s Guide to the 21st Century is somewhere here in this pile of books on my desk that I really need to get to.

From him, I heard the best explanation of what genes “do”, which is to project copies of themselves as far forward into the future as they can. And the power of that process of “selection” explains a whole bunch of the bizarre and counter-intuitive behavior we see in creatures.

For us human creatures, one of the strangest (and most wonderful) behaviors is altruism — properly calibrated altruism, that is.

Why sacrifice? It seems evolutionarily “wrong”.

Why do we help people we’ll never meet again? Say you’re rushing through a crowded airport, late for a flight, and you see someone drop their wallet. You stop, pick it up, and chase them down to hand it back — no reward, no applause, just a quick “thanks” before you sprint to your gate.

Or maybe you’ve donated to a far-off disaster relief fund, knowing you’ll never shake hands with the people you’ve helped. These acts defy the cold logic of self-interest.

So, what’s going on? Why does our species, shaped by the brutal math of survival, bother with altruism — especially for strangers? Altruism is one of those quirks that seems like a glitch in the system but might just be the secret sauce of our success as a species.

The Evolutionary Roots: Kin and Tribe

To understand altruism, we need to rewind a few million years. Our ancestors weren’t exactly handing out free lunches on the savannah. Survival was very near a zero-sum game — calories were scarce, predators were plentiful, and every decision had to tilt the odds toward staying alive. Everyone was “living on the margin” — all the time.

Yet, even in this cutthroat world, selflessness emerged. Why?

The first piece of the puzzle is kin selection, a concept biologist WD Hamilton formalized in the 1960s. Genes are selfish, even when we aren’t. If you sacrifice your lunch (or even your life) to save your kids or siblings, you’re indirectly passing on your genes, since they share your DNA.

This makes evolutionary sense: a mother risking her life for her child isn’t “wasting” her energy — she’s betting (or rather, her genes are) on her genetic legacy. Data backs this up. Studies of animal behavior, from meerkats to bees, show that creatures often prioritize close relatives when making costly sacrifices.

But what about helping non-relatives? That’s where reciprocal altruism comes in, an idea championed by Robert Trivers. If you help a neighbor today — say, sharing your hunt — they’re more likely to return the favor tomorrow.

This tit-for-tat strategy thrives in small, tight-knit groups where you’ll see the same faces repeatedly. Over time, this built trust and cooperation, turning scattered hominids into thriving tribes able to employ the division of labor to some extent.

Anthropological research, like studies of hunter-gatherer societies (e.g., the !Kung San), shows that food-sharing and mutual aid were critical for group survival, especially in lean times.

But now there’s a weird wrinkle: these mechanisms evolved in groups of 50-150 people, where everyone knew each other. So, why do we now tip generously at a diner we’ll never revisit or jump into a river to save a stranger’s kid? That’s where the puzzle gets juicy.

The Modern “Misfire”: Altruism in a Global Village

Fast-forward to 2025. We live in a world of 8 billion strangers, yet we still tend to act like we’re in a prehistoric village. This is what evolutionary psychologists call a mismatch. Our brains are wired for small-group living, but we’re navigating megacities and global networks.

When you donate to earthquake victims halfway across the globe or hold the door for a random passerby, you’re running on outdated software — software that doesn’t know the tribe is now planet-sized.

This mismatch explains a lot. Consider the “bystander effect,” where people are less likely to help in a crowd because their brain assumes someone else will step up, just like in a small tribe where roles were clear. Yet, when the moment feels personal—like seeing a single person struggling — our instincts kick in.

A 2020 study in Nature Human Behaviour found that people are more likely to help when they perceive a direct, one-on-one connection, even with strangers. That’s why crowdfunding campaigns with personal stories (like a sick child’s GoFundMe) rake in more donations than abstract causes.

Let’s look at some real-world examples to ground this. In 2023, a viral video showed a New York subway passenger diving onto the tracks to save a man who’d fallen. No relation, no reward — just pure, reckless altruism.

Or take the rise of “effective altruism,” where people like you and me donate (check out DonorSee.com!) to optimize impact, like funding malaria nets in sub-Saharan Africa. The Gates Foundation reported in 2024 that such targeted giving has saved millions of lives.

These acts aren’t rational by a narrow, selfish metric, but they make sense when you see them as echoes of our tribal wiring stretching all across the globe.

There’s a darker side, too. Our altruistic instincts can be hacked. Scammers exploit our empathy with fake sob stories, and marketers use “cause-related” campaigns to sell us sneakers while we feel good about “supporting the cause.”

Understanding this “glitch” in our wiring can help us direct our generosity more wisely.

But outdated software or not, helping others even if there’s no direct benefit just feels good. It’s not only that altruism is noble, or something hard-wired into us by millions of years of evolution, it’s a thing that lifts us up spiritually, even as we sacrifice personally.

Cultivating Altruism Today: Three Practical Tips

So, how do we harness this instinct to live better, both for ourselves and others? Altruism isn’t mainly about grand gestures. Small, intentional acts can (and do!) ripple outward, having positive impacts far beyond your immediate vision.

Here are three ways to lean into your inner altruist, grounded in what we know about human nature:

1. Start Small, Stay Local: Your brain loves tangible impact. Volunteer at a local food bank or help a neighbor with a task. Researchers consistently find that small, visible acts of kindness boost well-being more than large, abstract donations. Action: Commit to one small act of help this week, even if it’s just buying coffee for a coworker.

2. Make It Personal: Our altruistic instincts fire strongest when we connect. When donating, research a cause where you can see the human impact, like a specific family’s story on a crowdfunding site — again, DonorSee.com is fabulous for this. Tip: Write a short note to someone you’ve helped; it deepens the bond for both of you.

3. Guard Your Generosity: Scammers and manipulative ads prey on your empathy. Before giving, check sources (eg, CharityNavigator.org) to ensure your help reaches the right hands. Action: Set a monthly “giving budget” to stay intentional without going off the rails.

Selflessness can be totally selfish!

Altruism isn’t just good for the world; it’s good for you. Studies show that helping others boosts oxytocin, reduces stress, and even correlates with longer lifespans. It’s as if evolution rewards us for keeping the tribe strong.

But the real magic is this: every time you help a stranger, you’re not just defying the odds of a selfish world — you’re proving that our deepest instincts, forged in ancient campfires, still light the way toward a better one.

So, next time you’re tempted to keep walking past that dropped wallet or scroll past that fundraiser, pause. Your brain’s whispering an ancient truth: we’re all in this together. What’s one small way you’ll act on that today?

Naturally,

Adam