No, no, no!

Yesterday, Helena Iara and I went to a park here in Florianópolis.  This being Brazil, the park fauna included the usual fish and turtles and ducks, but also a yellow throated caiman (a small one), some amazing herons and egrets, and monkeys in the trees.  As we sat by the side of the lake, watching the caiman cruise under us, another girl wanted to come up and see the beast.  "No, no, no!" screamed Helena Iara.  "Don't come!"

"Helena," I replied, "Anyone can come and see the animals.  And why should you care?  If someone else sees the caiman, you can still see it."

"No, no!" Helena insisted.

Ethically, of course I was right to insist that Helena should not be selfish about seeing animals, nor about playgrounds, the beach, or any other places she wants just for herself.  Sharing public goods stands as one of the key elements of a liberal society, after all.  But as I began to analyze the argument I made to her, I began to wonder if I was really correct.  If someone else shares an experience with me is it really the same?  Is it, as I had said, no harm to me if someone else sees the caiman?

Let's think about mountain climbing as a counter-example.  To reach the top of a mountain requires dedication and suffering; the amazing view from the top doesn't include just the visual impact of snow and rock on my eyes, but is also imbued with the struggle required to reach that point.  The view from the top of Mt. Evans or Pikes Peak (Colorado mountains with roads to the top) are simply not as good as the views from neighboring peaks, because it is too easy to get there.

Similarly, part of the excitement of the stories I tell comes from the fact that they happened to me in the mountains of Chile, the wild streets of Medellín, or the jungles of Brazil.  These are "exotic" places, more valued and more interesting (by me and by listeners) because they are so hard to get to, so dangerous, so little visited.  Would these stories be as compelling if everyone could go there?

On a less athletic plane, think about the experience of seeing the Mona Lisa in the Louvre: don't the bustling crowds distract in some ways from the art, or especially from the aura we expect from such a great work of art?  When the painting is too accessible, it may lose something.  Walter Benjamin said something similar about art when it can be reproduced: unlike the saints carried through Italian villages only one day a year, a movie or a photograph can be reproduced infinitely.  The original doesn't carry the air of authenticity, of magic.

None the less, I'm not going to agree with Helena: though someone else seeing a caiman may detract from my experience, that's the nature of democracy, and of being a good person.  And, in the end, Helena will soon learn that meeting people -- and talking with them about the crocodile in front of them -- is an even richer experience than the selfish vision of a mountaintop or a painting.n