[Elster, Jon (1996), Doing our level best, The Times Literary Supplement, March 29: 12-13]
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[start of page 12]
Doing our level best
Jon Elster
Rational-choice theory tells us how to act
to achieve our ends, and tries to explain
our behaviour by stipulating that we do
what it tells us. In its explanatory version, the
theory can be stated very simply: people do as
well as they can. In this phrase, both key words
are to be understood in a strictly subjective way.
What counts as doing more or less well is determined by the agent's view of what is good, not by
any externally imposed standard. What people
can do is a matter of the options people believe
they have, not of those an external observer
might ascribe to them.
To understand the implications of this subjective approach, consider drug addiction. Gary
Becker argues that addicts can be rational, given
the low weight they place on future gratifications
compared to present ones. That weight -
expressed in the rate of time-discounting - is not
itself subject to rational assessment. A time preference is just another preference. Some like
chocolate ice-cream, whereas others have a taste
for vanilla; this is just a brute fact, and it would
be absurd to say that one preference is more
rational than the other. Similarly, it is just a brute
fact that some like the present, whereas others
have a taste for the future. If a person discounts
the future very heavily, consuming an addictive
substance may, for that person, be a form of
rational behaviour.
To be sure, addicts have no reason to discount
the future heavily. The date at which a good
becomes available does not in itself constitute a
reason for wanting it, although it may be associated with such reasons. If we disregard such facts
as that we know we shall die but not when, or will
enjoy things less as we grow old, any year is as
good as any other. Yet the lack of reasons for discounting the future does not detract from the
explanatory power of discounting. In a more tentative spirit, we can apply a similar argument to
self-interested motivations. Although many persons give more weight to their own gratifications than to those of others, one might argue that the
mere fact that these are their gratifications does
not amount to a reason, although it may be
associated with such reasons. If we disregard
such facts as that we may be more efficient at
promoting our own good than that of others, or
that an impersonal attitude may detract from the
motivation to do anything at all, the welfare of
any person is as valuable as that of any other. Yet
this (putative) lack of reasons for treating other
people differently does not detract from the
explanatory power of self-interest.
I have been suggesting that giving reasons is
closely associated with an impartial attitude, be
it impartiality across time or across individuals.
Any deviation from impartiality calls out for a
reason. I believe that when the moralists - from
Seneca to La Bruy�re - refer to reason, what they
have in mind is something like impartiality. In
On Anger, Seneca writes that "reason wishes the
decision that it gives to be just; anger wishes to
have the decision which it has given seem the
just decision." In the Characters, La Bruy�re
observes that "nothing is easier for passion than
to overcome reason: its great triumph is to win
out over interest." Both oppose reason to passion. Seneca explicitly identifies reason with justice, and La Bruy�re implicitly, when he also
opposes reason to interest. Whereas La Bruy�re
simply states that passion can overcome reason,
Seneca also provides a mechanism by which this
can happen. We may identify interest with self-interested rationality, in the subjective sense
explained above. Whereas reason and rationality
overlap (one may pursue impartial ends by
instrumentally rational means), reason and
interest are mutually exclusive. Although reason
and passion also overlap - Marx, I believe
embodied the passionate pursuit of justice - I
shall limit myself to passion not motivated by
reason. We are left, then, with a triad of motivations: reason, interest and passion. What is their
respective importance or domain in explaining
behaviour? I do not have in mind issues of consumer choice, where interest reigns supreme, but
rather interpersonal transactions and political
behaviour.
To identify the motivations, we cannot simply
look at what people say about them. There are
two distorting mechanisms that can interpose
themselves between the original motivation and
overt declarations. On the one hand, there is what
one might call the alchemy of motivations,
whereby one motive is transmuted into another.
On the other hand, there is a pervasive tendency
to misrepresent one's motivations. The first is
more like unconscious self-deception, the second more like conscious deception of others.
Each mechanism can induce self-serving conceptions of justice, where the motivation that is
served can be either interest or passion.
People have material interests, but they also
have a need to see themselves as not motivated
exclusively by material interest. These two concerns may cause us, in full sincerity, to embrace a
conception of justice that promotes our interest.
Workers in low-income occupations may naturally gravitate towards a conception of fairness
that emphasizes equal wages. Skilled and highly
paid workers believe in a merit-based wage system. These beliefs will be fully sincere, in the
sense that people will stick to them later, even if
at that time they are no longer in their interest.
This is because their self-image will not allow
them to see themselves as persons who choose
normative conceptions � la carte in a purely
opportunistic manner.
Consistency over time is one constraint on the
transmutation of interest into reason. Another
(the "imperfection constraint") is that the coincidence between interest and impartial argument
must not be too close. This is demonstrably a factor in self-serving misrepresentations of one's
motivation, and plausibly also in self-serving
transmutation. If I advocate a conception of' justice that coincides perfectly with my interest, that
fact may be so obvious to me as to make me feel
uncomfortable. My self-respect requires me to
adopt a conception that deviates somewhat from
the one that is optimal from the point of view of
self-interest, whereas, of course, that latter motivation stops me from deviating too much. The
position finally chosen is not the result of a trade-off between self-interest and self-respect,
because the very notion of such a trade-off would
be incompatible with my self-respect. Rather, it
is the resultant of some kind of parallelogram of
psychic forces.
Passion, as Seneca noted, also tends to
become transmuted into reason. Suppose I am
initially motivated by envy of another's possessions. Envy being an emotion that is both
socially unacceptable and subjectively very
unpleasant, a double-barrelled pressure is set up
to redefine the situation so as to generate a more
acceptable emotion. I may be able to tell myself a
story in which the other had acquired his possessions by illegitimate means, and perhaps at my
expense. This cognitive reassessment of the situation induces the wonderfully intoxicating feeling of righteous indignation, which I can justify
to others and to myself by appealing to impartial
norms of fairness. Although I certainly do not
follow those who dismiss all theories of justice
as sublimated envy, individual appeals to justice
may have that genesis.
An example is provided by work on the
"Ultimatum Game". Two subjects in an
experiment are asked to divide ten dollars between themselves, according to the following principles. First, one proposes a division.
If the second accepts, they get what the first proposed. If the second subject refuses the proposal,
neither gets anything. The experiment is done
under conditions of full anonymity that prevent
considerations of reputation-building or shame
in face-to-face relations from influencing the
subjects. If both subjects were rational and self-interested, and knew each other to be so, the first
would propose that he get nine dollars and the
second one dollar, a proposal which the second
would then proceed to accept on the grounds that
something is better than nothing. What one actually observes is a different pattern. Subjects
placed in the first position typically offer something like seven dollars for themselves and three
for the other. Subjects placed in the second position typically refuse if offered less than three
dollars.
These findings can be interpreted in many
ways. A common view is that the second subject
is motivated by a sense of fairness that makes
him willing to take a loss rather than be
exploited; and that the first, anticipating this
reaction, pre-empts it by offering enough to
placate the second. An alternative interpretation
could be that the second is motivated by the emotion of envy that makes him willing to cut off his
nose to spite his face. What I have been saying is
that these two interpretations are compatible
with one another. The envy may transmute itself
into righteous indignation based on a norm of
fairness. I believe this is often more plausible
than the standard economist account, according
to which the subjects are motivated by a "taste
for fairness". This rational-choice account overlooks the enormous importance in people's lives
both of unjustifiable passion and of their need to
justify their actions to themselves no less than to
others. As Montaigne said, every day "we give
the name of duty to an inward bitter harshness
born of interest and private passion".
Conscious misrepresentation of one's motives to others is also very common. A speaker
may find it in his interest to present himself as not
moved by interest. First, he might want to
deceive others about his real motivation. This
case has two sub-cases, depending on what he
hopes to achieve by the deception. On the one
hand, he may want to avoid the opprobrium associated with the overt appeal to private interest in
public debates. On the other hand, he might want
to present his position as based on principle in a
way that precludes compromise or bargaining.
Second, he might want to persuade others, if he
believes they are susceptible of being swayed by
impartial argument.
For specificity, imagine that we are dealing
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with an assembly debating and voting before a
public audience or voters. The first sub-case of
the first motive for substituting impartial reasoning for interest could exist even when all members of the assembly are and know each other to
be motivated exclusively by interest. In order to
deceive their audience, they might still pretend
to be motivated by the public interest, assuming
that they care about re-election and that voters
penalize naked appeals to interest. By contrast,
the second sub-case can exist only if the speaker
believes that other members might believe his
claim to be motivated by genuinely impartial
concerns. The second motive, however, can
exist only if he believes that other members
might themselves be motivated by such concerns.
Concerning the first motive, we again run into
a snag mentioned earlier. If the impartial justification corresponds perfectly to the speaker's
interest, the disguise may be too transparent to
work. Suppose that a conservative party proposes a tax cut for the wealthy by appealing to
the trickle-down argument that the cut will ultimately benefit everybody. If the immediate
effect is to produce benefits for all the rich and
only for the rich, it is quite likely to be met with
derision and might produce electoral defeat. The
party would do well, therefore, to dilute its proposal, so that it will benefit most but not all of the
rich, and not only the rich. In these cases, there is
an obvious trade-off. The proposal has to be sufficiently diluted to deflect suspicions; yet it must
not be so much diluted that the interest in question is harmed rather than promoted. To propose
tax cuts only for the poor would appear as eminently disinterested, but hardly appealing to con
servative voters.
Although I do not think that interest can be
transmuted into self-serving passion, it can and
does induce instrumental simulation of passion.
If credible, the simulation may in fact be superior
to the real thing, because one does not run the
risk of loss of control. According to Seneca,
"often the feigning of an emotion produces an
effect which would not be produced by genuine
emotion". Yet to be credible, one probably has to
give the impression of loss of control. Behaviour
contrary to one's interest may be necessary to
create the appearance of being deaf and blind to
interest. If I act against my interest, others may
infer that I am motivated by irrational passions
and thus unlikely to be dissuaded by threats that
would deter a rational person. They may, therefore, decide to let me have my way. Before one
decides that successful simulation is rational,
however, one has to keep in mind that it may
have negative effects as well. First, people who
use anger as a weapon might fare badly in
encounters with other persons using the same
strategy. Second, they will often experience
that other people walk around them rather than
dealing with them. The fact that they have fewer
encounters with others may offset the fact that
they are more likely to benefit from whatever
encounters they do have.
The fact that transmutation and misrepresentations of interest are constrained by consistency
and imperfection has important consequences. If
these constraints did not exist, the impartial justification of interest would not make any difference in practice. People would act on their self-interest, and justify what they do, to themselves
or to others, on impartial grounds. But that is not
how the world is. In fact, it could not be like that,
for if the justification made no difference for
behaviour there would be no reason to engage in
it. The grip that norms of fairness, justice and
impartiality exercise on the mind has two
effects. On the one hand, it induces transmutation and misrepresentations of interest. On the
other hand, it induces the constraints on these
mechanisms by virtue of which they make a difference for behaviour.
[end of page 13]
[Elster, Jon (1996), Doing our level best, The Times Literary Supplement, March 29: 12-13]
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