The Joy of Pain by Richard H. Smith Page A

stood to gain from the illness.
    Because self-interest so often drives our emotional reactions to events, even when these events also entail a misfortune for others, we can feel pleased if we gain from the misfortune.
OUT OF THE MOUTH OF BABES
    The unguarded behavior of children can be another window into the self-interested side of human nature. When I was about ten years old, my parents invited a family over for a birthday piñata party. This family had three kids ranging in age from three to eight. They were well behaved until it was time to hit the piñata. First, each wanted to be the first to hit it, and second, each wanted to hit it more than his or her share. My siblings and I backed off and watched them fight over the stick and whack away at the piñata. This was unsettling enough to witness, but nothing compared to what happened when the piñata burst and shot its candy over the ground. All three of these hellions hurled themselves onto the ground and grabbed for the candy. It was a scene worthy of William Golding’s
Lord of the Flies.
The eldest of the lot, stoutand advantaged in size, soon got the lion’s share. I still remember the look on his face as he elbowed aside his smaller siblings. It was unself-conscious and almost brutish, and it revealed how little he cared, in the moment, about their yelps and cries. He wanted more and more, and he was going to get it. Finally, their parents intervened, looking embarrassed.
    Most people have seen similar displays in kids. This may be one reason why cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker characterized childhood in this way:
    In childhood we see the struggle for self-esteem at its least disguised. The child is unashamed about what he needs and wants most. His whole organism shouts the claims of his natural narcissism. … We like to speak casually about “sibling rivalry,” as though it were some kind of byproduct of growing up, a bit of competitiveness and selfishness of children who have been spoiled, who haven’t yet grown into a generous social nature. But it is too all-absorbing and relentless to be an aberration, it expresses the heart of the creature: the desire to stand out, to be
the
one in creation. When you combine natural narcissism with the basic need for self-esteem, you create a creature who had to feel himself an object of primary value: first in the universe, representing in himself all of life. 31
    When our younger daughter was four years old, my wife attended a function requiring her to be away and late for dinner. A severe thunderstorm developed by early evening. The sky was purple-black at first, then came the torrents of rain. It was scary. We were characters in
The War of the Worlds,
and the Martians had begun their invasion. My wife called to say she would be delayed because of the storm. My daughter overheard the conversation, and this worried me. Now, the terror of the storm would be compounded by her concern over her mom. And, indeed, the wide-eyed fright in her face seemed to confirm my worry. But, to my surprise she cried out, “What about me?” This really took me aback. After I had a moment to think about it, however, I realized her reaction made a lot of sense. In her young mind, her biggest fear was the implications of her mom not being there for her. What would this mean? Her older sister was also present, and we gave each other bemused looks. Four years her senior, she was more nuanced in her reactions—and could see the humor in it, even as the storm thundered outside. The incident is legend in our family.When we joke about someone’s self-centered behavior, we often blurt out, “What about me?”
    In Chapters 1 and 2 , I stressed the importance of social comparisons in contributing to our feelings about ourselves and therefore the potential positive effects of downward comparisons—even if they come in the form of misfortunes happening to others. Social comparisons can also