Why do I even care?
People are quite awful. Even at their middling best, they're more than mildly unpleasant. Why do I care what happens to any of them? They're not me, not related to or beloved by me. There are six billion people on this planet, and 99.99998 % of them could take a dirt nap and I wouldn't care or miss them. So why am I so interested in secular humanism? What do I care if the things I think are important don't survive me? Aliens could invade Earth, turn half of the people into slaves, and the other half into barbeque--as long as I wasn't one of them, I don't know that I'd be so upset. Especially if I never have children.
So why do I care?
I know some of it is sheer bloody-mindedness--not wanting "the other guy" to win. But that can't account for all of it, can it? I mean, I'm spiteful, and I like being right more than just about anything. But I'm also lazy, which tends to balance out that spite/ right thing. So it seems spite isn't the motivating factor.
Why do I care? And I do care--some days, more than others. I know the world'll never be exactly the way I think it should be, but I feel as if I have to take a hand in shaping it. Even a small corner of it. Not that I'll get to enjoy the fruits of my labor.
Even enlightened self-interest doesn't explain it. Or does it?
I don't know. I'm tired, and stoned, and sulky, and I have to be awake in five hours.
"If wishes was horses, we'd all be eatin' steak."--Jayne Cobb