Your moral intuitions feel rock-solid. Someone cuts in line and you’re genuinely angry. Someone helps a stranger and you’re genuinely moved.

But here’s the thing: those feelings evolved when humans lived in groups of maybe 150 people. Everyone knew everyone. Reputation mattered because you’d see the same faces for decades.

Cheating your neighbor meant cheating someone who might refuse to share food during the next drought. Being generous meant building relationships that could save your life.

Our brains still work this way. We get furious at abstract corporate malfeasance but forgive our friend who’s always late. We’ll give twenty dollars to a GoFundMe for one sick kid but won’t donate to prevent malaria that kills thousands.

One face, one story, one tribe member — that registers. Numbers don’t. Strangers don’t.

This isn’t a call to ignore your moral feelings. They’re often right. But when you find yourself having zero sympathy for people suffering far away, or getting angrier about small personal slights than massive institutional failures, remember: your moral GPS is still calibrated for a world that doesn’t exist.

It’s pointing you toward the village that disappeared ten thousand years ago.