Ali Ogul

There used to be a common belief that what separates us from animals is our ability to communicate.

But by now, we all know that animals—and even plants—can communicate too.

So what is it then?
What really makes us human?
How did we become what we are?

Is it our ability to think? I don’t think so.
The use of tools? Definitely not.

I have some theories.

I believe one of the biggest differences is our ability to control ourselves.

Animals live in the moment. For many of them, there’s no concept of tomorrow.
Whatever they feel, they do.
In danger? They react.
Hungry? They hunt.
Territory threatened? They defend without hesitation.

Humans, on the other hand, pause.
We calculate.
We think about the consequences.
We carry the weight of what ifs.
We plan for tomorrow, next week, next year.
We think about our careers, our relationships, our futures.

But is that really a sign of being “better”?
Or just… different?

This brings me to the question that triggered this whole thought:
Are we truly civilized, or have we just been trained to act like it?

Let me use a simple analogy.

Take a lion.
In the wild, it’s dominant, territorial, and instinct-driven.
But in a zoo (and let me be clear—I dislike zoos), the lion doesn’t need to hunt.
It doesn’t need to kill. Doesn’t need to mark territory. Doesn’t need to survive.
It’s fed regularly. It sleeps. It walks the same path over and over.
Eventually, it becomes something else. Subdued. Predictable. Almost like a housecat.

Now reverse the analogy.

Take away the income of a human.
Take away food, take away security.
Let them enter survival mode.

Would we still be kind?
Would we still follow the rules?
Or would we start breaking them—stealing, lying, even killing—to survive?

Maybe we’re not as “civilized” as we like to think.
Maybe we are just kept comfortable—like animals in a larger, more complex zoo.

And perhaps our civility isn’t the result of evolution at all.
Perhaps it’s conditioning.

From childhood, we’re taught to behave, to follow rules, to sit still, to please others.
We’re rewarded when we conform. Punished when we don’t.
We live under systems—school, religion, law, economy—that define our “goodness.”
So I wonder: are we truly moral? Or are we just well-programmed?

Because when those systems collapse, we change.
History shows this again and again.
In war zones, in economic collapses, after natural disasters—people revert.
Neighbors betray neighbors.
Governments lose control.
The mask of civility slips.

And yet… that’s not the whole story.

In those same crises, we also see astonishing acts of compassion.
People share what little they have. Strangers risk their lives for one another.
Maybe we carry both instincts — selfishness and solidarity — and which one emerges depends on what the moment demands.

Even in everyday life, we see these shifts.
Colleagues losing their jobs and suddenly changing—becoming withdrawn, competitive, even harsh.
The warmth disappears. Kindness becomes a luxury.
They’re in survival mode.
And I wonder… would I be any different?

Sometimes I like to believe I’d stay calm, thoughtful, fair.
But how do I know for sure?
If I were stripped of comfort, resources, or a sense of future—what instincts would take over?

And then there’s another layer:
What about love?
What about empathy, kindness, the way we care for others, even strangers?
We sacrifice for those we love. We share what little we have. Sometimes we give without expecting anything in return.
That has to mean something… doesn’t it?

But then again, what if these values—this moral compass—are also shaped by deep conditioning?
Taught in childhood, reinforced by praise, echoed by stories, rituals, religions.
What if our goodness, too, is part of the system?
A survival trait in disguise—because being “good” helps us belong, and belonging once meant survival?

And then there’s the world stage.
Nations waging war, not for ideology—but for oil, land, influence.
Killing civilians, destroying lives.
Isn’t it just the same story? Territory. Resources. Survival.

So again, I ask: Are we domesticated?
Are we part of a well-fed, distracted, global zoo?
A system that seems to work—as long as nothing shakes it?

I believe we carry powerful instincts—just like any other animal.
But we’ve learned to suppress them.
We’ve learned to behave—
But only when life is comfortable.
Only when there’s food in the fridge, money in the bank, and a calendar full of plans.

So what does that make us?

I don’t have the answer.
But I’d love to hear what you think.