We helped the dog despite a variety of risks to ourselves, despite not knowing when it would end, and despite being in a hurry. We didn't do it with any expectation of reward or kudos. And although we do train and board dogs as a side gig, we're already booked enough to be choosy about clients, so we weren't doing it for potential business.
We did it because ignoring the dog felt bad and helping the dog felt good. That is, it was completely selfish on our part, but we still did the right thing.
But at least a dozen other people just walked by the dog as if they didn't see it. It was off leash, unkempt, and clearly scared. They saw it, but they just walked on past. Why? Because, for whatever reason, they didn't feel badly enough or wouldn't feel good enough if they helped.
I don't litter, either. And I take some personal responsibility for the litter of others. Again, because it feels good (or, in this case, living in a marginally cleaner city feels good). It also feels good knowing I might not be the only one who does so.
Neither of these makes me a good person. There's one instance where I know I don't do the right thing: I don't visit people in hospitals unless someone else drags me along. The experience, for reasons I'd probably need a psychologist to figure out, is painful for me, and whatever reward I get visiting the person is dwarfed by that pain. Even the shame and embarrassment of being a person who doesn't visit people when they're in the hospital isn't enough of an incentive to go. I need an external incentive. I need a friend to say, "Hey, let's go visit Phil in the hospital" or I'll be 'too busy' to go.
We all 'think differently' than each other. We're all doing what feels best. We all have different internal incentives and disincentives. So, for any sufficiently large group and any desired behavior, external incentives are required to get some of the people to exhibit that desired behavior.
Show me someone who is absolutely repulsed by something, but does it anyway because creates the serotonin pump for someone else, and I'll show you a selfless person.
"Psychological egoism is the thesis that we are always deep down motivated by what we perceive to be in our own self-interest. Psychological altruism, on the other hand, is the view that sometimes we can have ultimately altruistic motives. Suppose, for example, that Pam saves Jim from a burning office building. What ultimately motivated her to do this? It would be odd to suggest that it’s ultimately her own benefit that Pam is seeking. After all, she’s risking her own life in the process. But the psychological egoist holds that Pam’s apparently altruistic act is ultimately motivated by the goal to benefit herself, whether she is aware of this or not. Pam might have wanted to gain a good feeling from being a hero, or to avoid social reprimand that would follow had she not helped Jim, or something along these lines."
I was attracted to this years ago, and even more to the related theory of Mark Twain in What Is Man?, which seemed very convincing[1]:
"...we ignore and never mention the Sole Impulse which dictates and compels a man's every act: the imperious necessity of securing his own approval, in every emergency and at all costs. To it we owe all that we are. It is our breath, our heart, our blood. It is our only spur, our whip, our good, our only impelling power; we have no other. ... FROM HIS CRADLE TO HIS GRAVE A MAN NEVER DOES A SINGLE THING WHICH HAS ANY FIRST AND FOREMOST OBJECT BUT ONE–TO SECURE PEACE OF MIND, SPIRITUAL COMFORT, FOR HIMSELF. ...He will always do the thing which will bring him the MOST mental comfort–for that is THE SOLE LAW OF HIS LIFE"
but came to think (as most philosophers do) that both are just mistakes. They explain too much, are unfalsifiable (how do you know about what people never do - it's just asserted), and are crazy and a horrible way to live. There's no goodness in the world?! No kind acts? Why would you want to believe that. You really didn't care about that dog at all, GP?
If you're asking that question, you've adopted some sort of fatalist view of the concept I don't hold. I don't know what caring is if it doesn't have something to do with feelings. To answer your question, I cared, empathized, and sympathized enough that it outweighed my fear, anxiety, and doubts about helping.
Why do I feel that way and others don't? Probably because of my experiences with dogs, my thoughts about dogs, and my thoughts in general. I could, with intention, retrain my thoughts so I am likely to not help dogs in the future, if I so chose. Likewise, I suspect I could have taken the mental hit and not helped the dog; but I don't think that's what people generally do. And I think when people generally do a thing, if they're not getting a reward, they're building a reward system so when they do the thing in the future they get a reward.
I'm very skeptical of any claim of purely altruistic behavior, because altruism can have many rewards, both internal and external. Pam rescues Jim because Pam cares about Jim. But what does it mean to 'care about' a thing? Isn't that just pro-rescue feelings?
In fact when I was researching this topic, I remember there being some reporting about Mother Teresa writing that she had doubts about what she did and how difficult it was - reinforcing the idea that she was suffering internally. I also recall some interesting studies on serotonin reward feedback in people who do altruistic things or have "sacrificing" jobs. So it's not woo woo as you seem to make it sound.
I take issue with a lot in your last paragraph - but I'd suggest you revisit the concept.
I recommend Christopher Hitchens' book on Mother Teresa, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't write about her like that if you'd read it.
No matter how misguided her actions were, it was clear she was doing what she did without those same altruism mechanisms - yet millions think she was a saint. That's the whole point of that anecdote.
One bay over, more than a dozen people were consulting on a kid who fell out of a high window. When someone volunteered me to take their kids home so they could stay, I'm not even sure I finished my whole sentence before leaving. Pretty much gone in a puff of dust like a Warner Brothers cartoon.
Hospitals are full of hurt people. Some of them are never going home. Sometimes they know it. Sometimes the family knows it. I'm now pretty sure it's not the people in the hospital I have a problem with. It's what's happening around them and to them.
So, deposits on plastic cups! and straws! (might get people to pay the cost of washing and re-using a sturdy one)