One day, waking up early in the morning in the middle of nature, I noticed something surprising. Dozens of ants had fallen into a five-liter water bottle I had left open the night before. They were wriggling chaotically in the clear water, as if each one was fighting for its life.
At first, I thought they were drowning each other, trying to save themselves at the cost of the others’ lives.
That thought repulsed me, and I turned away, deciding not to intervene.
However, after two hours, curiosity got the better of me. I went back to check the bottle.
My astonishment was limitless: the ants were still alive! Even more, they had formed a living island, a kind of pyramid, where some supported the others, holding themselves together at the surface, like a united colony.
I held my breath and began to observe. Those at the bottom were indeed submerged, but not permanently. After a while, they were replaced by those from the upper layer, who voluntarily went down.
The most tired ones calmly came back up, without rush or pushing.
No one was trying to save themselves first. On the contrary, each seemed to strive to go where it was the hardest. This coordinated system of mutual aid touched me deeply.
I couldn’t resist. I found a spoon thin enough to pass through the neck of the bottle, and I gently inserted it inside. Seeing salvation, the ants began to climb out one by one, without agitation, without panic.
Everything was going well until one of them, weakened, fell back into the water, unable to reach the edge.
And then, something happened that I will never forget.
The last ant, almost out, suddenly turned back. It went down again, as if to say: “Hold on, my brother, I won’t leave you.”
It dove back in, clung tightly to the struggling ant, but couldn’t save it alone.
I couldn’t help but intervene: I brought the spoon closer, and together they were able to get out—alive, side by side.
This episode moved me more than any film or book about friendship and sacrifice.
I felt a storm of emotions: first, shame for having thought those ants were insensitive; then, amazement at their resilience; admiration for their discipline and courage… and finally, a deep shame.
Shame for us, humans. Because of our indifference, because of the way we lose one another in the pursuit of gain, because of how rare it is for someone to turn back to save the weakest.
We build walls where we should be creating living bridges.
If ants—these tiny creatures—are capable of such coordination and altruism, why are we so often deaf to the suffering of others?
That day, I understood something essential: true strength lies in unity.
And if someone still doesn’t know how to live well… they should take example from the ants.