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Perfect principles are for bargaining

When people commit to principles, they often consider one transgression ruinous to the whole agenda. Eating a sausage by drunken accident can end years of vegetarianism.

As a child I thought this crazy. Couldn’t vegetarians just eat meat when it was cheap under their rationale? Scrumptious leftovers at our restaurant, otherwise to be thrown away, couldn’t tempt vegetarian kids I knew. It would break their vegetarianism. Break it? Why did the integrity of the whole string of meals matter?  Any given sausage was such a tiny effect.

I eventually found two explanations. First, it’s easier to thwart temptation if you stake the whole deal on every choice. This is similar to betting a thousand dollars that you won’t eat chocolate this month. Second, commitment without gaps makes you seem a nicer, more reliable person to deal with. Viewers can’t necessarily judge the worthiness of each transgression, so they suspect the selectively committed of hypocrisy. Plus everyone can better rely on and trust a person who honors his commitments with less regard to consequence.

There’s another good reason though, which is related to the first. For almost any commitment there are constantly other people saying things like ‘What?! You want me to cook a separate meal because you have some fuzzy notion that there will be slightly less carbon emitted somewhere if you don’t eat this steak?’ Maintaining an ideal requires constantly negotiating with other parties who must suffer for it. Placing a lot of value on unmarred principles gives you a big advantage in these negotiations.

In negotiating generally, it is often useful to arrange visible costs to yourself for relinquishing too much ground. This is to persuade the other party that if they insist on the agreement being in that region, you will truly not be able to make a deal. So they are forced to agree to a position more favorable to you. This is the idea behind arranging for your parents to viciously punish you for smoking with your friends if you don’t want to smoke much. Similarly, attaching a visible large cost – the symbolic sacrifice of your principles – to relieving a friend of cooking tofu persuades your friend that you just can’t eat with them unless they concede. So that whole conversation is avoided, determined in your favor from the outset.

I used to be a vegetarian, and it was much less embarrassing to ask for vegetarian food then than was afterward when  I merely wanted to eat vegetarian most of the time. Not only does absolute commitment get you a better deal, but it allows you to commit to such a position without disrespectfully insisting on sacrificing the other’s interests for a small benefit.

Prompted by The Strategy of Conflict by Thomas Schelling.

Nothing to see here

New posts on Meteuphoric are unlikely for two weeks. I’m staying at my family’s new farm house in Tasmania, beyond Internet reach except for flickers of cell phone connectivity (via which I now write) and in the future. See you then.

Update 27 Dec: When internet companies guarantee two weeks they can mean some much longer amount of time. See you after that, or next time I move house.

Why do aphorisms and cynicism go together?

Why are aphorisms cynical more often than books are for instance?

A good single sentence saying can’t require background evidencing or further explanation. It must be instantly recognizable as true. It also needs to be news to the listener. Most single sentences that people can immediately verify as true they already believe. What’s left? One big answer is things that people don’t believe or think about much for lack of wanting to, despite evidence. Drawing attention to these is called cynicism.

HT to Robin Hanson for the question and to Francois de La Rochefoucauld for some examples:

We often forgive those who bore us, but we cannot forgive those whom we bore.

We promise according to our hopes; we fulfill according to our fears.

What often prevents us from abandoning ourselves to one vice is that we have several.

We confess to little faults only to persuade ourselves we have no great ones.

There are few people who are more often wrong than those who cannot suffer being wrong.

Nothing prevents us being natural so much as the desire to appear so.

Extremes of reliability and zealotry

Opinions and actions are spread across continua. The ones at the ends are sometimes called ‘extremist’, ‘fanatical’, ‘fundamentalist’ or ‘zealous’. These are insults or invitations to treat the supporters without seriousness. Other times the far reaches of a continuum are admired as ‘sticking to one’s principles’, ‘consistent’, ‘loyal’, ‘dedicated’, ‘committed’. Claims of certainty and crossing your heart and hoping to die are also looked well upon. So what’s the difference? Obviously the correct answers to some questions are at the ends of spectrums while others, such as optimal trade-offs, tend to have more central values. Is this what determines our like or dislike for centrism and extremism? Lets look at some examples from my understanding of popular opinion.

Things you should be extremist on:

  • What’s the worth of a human life?
  • At what degree of temptation should you cheat on your partner? Break the law? Break a promise?
  • How long should a marriage last?
  • How much does average IQ differ across races?
  • How much should a pedophile be willing to pay for you to let them have a child?

Things you should not be extremist on:

  • How closely should we follow a single political principle, such as libertarianism or communism?
  • What proportion of situations should you analyse in terms of a single theory?
  • How much of your sacred text is literally true? How much should it influence your life?
  • To what degree should one principle, such as utilitarianism, define your ethical views?
  • To what degree should you rely on reasoned thought for opinions?
  • How much of your time should you devote to a single activity (with the exception perhaps of looking after your family)?

I can’t see that the first list contains fewer trade offs than the second list. In fact it probably has more. So what’s the pattern?

The one I see is whether commitment is to an impersonal idea or to a group or person. If you take a centrist position on your personal and group loyalties you are something between flaky and treacherous. You are not supposed to trade off friends. On the other hand strong commitment to a policy position, theory, type of analysis, ethical standpoint, or other impersonal influence on behavior is unbalanced, biased, radical, dangerous, and consists of seeing everything as nails. It’s worse to belong to an edge political party than a central one, but worse to be undecided (central) on which group you belong to than to pick one and support it loyally.

This seems to make sense evolutionarily, as it is important for humans to have loyal associates, and not important for them to have associates who are committed above all else to something abstract that they might sacrifice your welfare for at any time. Ideas do not have babies with you or share their mammoth. Ideas are handy of course, but you want your associates to use them flexibly in the pursuit of upholding their social commitments, rather than using their social commitments flexibly in the pursuit of other principles.

What about sticking to one’s principles? That seems a praiseworthy non-human related extreme. Can you be praised for sticking to any principles though? No. Principles about loyalty, compassion, and honesty are good for instance, but principles like ‘always work when you can, regardless of what your wife thinks about it’, ‘always walk on the left hand side of telegraph poles’, and even committed utilitarianism impress few. Again it’s all about absolutes of reliability to others.

Why evaluate everything ASAP?

When I was young my brother and I used to play a game where we would page through books of wild animals or foreign places and on each page pick our favorite one, just for the pleasure of choosing. Driving in the country, looking in a museum, or window shopping in a mall, people point out to one another which things they like or dislike. We choose favorite colors, places, Dr Who incarnations, reality TV contenders, political personalities, reasons for disregarding postmodernism. On hearing the news, meeting new people, or learning gossip, the next step is usually to make a value judgment about the parties involved. Of all the characteristics everything has, the one we are itching to establish first is our own judgment of value.

At first this seems to make sense. How much we like something is key to how we respond to it. However plenty of the things we so keenly evaluate we can’t easily respond to, and don’t try to, apart from voicing our opinion. Do we waste so much time and thought judging things we can’t influence  as a sad byproduct of judging things we can influence? It sometimes even looks like we even seek out things to evaluate – a costly byproduct that would be! But perhaps in the distant past we hardly came across anything so far away that we couldn’t influence it? That seems wrong; while we saw less we could also influence less.

The only good explanation I can think of is that the response we do often make to our judgments – voicing them – is the purpose. Why would we want to voice evaluations so? One explanation is that it is in the hope that someone else will fix things for us, but this explanation faces the same problem as our original explanation; most of the things that I can’t affect are no easier for my friends to affect. No matter how much I tell my brother that I like pterodactyls most, he doesn’t do a thing. I don’t get my Dr Who and that cloud I thought was pretty evaporated before anyone lifted a finger.

A last theory is that it’s all about hinting to others what sort of people we are. To that irrelevant preferences should be quite useful, just as our more obviously image-improving activities, such as careful dressing, are. A signaling theory makes the things furthest from our influence better to demonstrate opinions on, as we aren’t constrained by the need to make useful decisions on them. I often make inferences about people from their expressed valuations, as I think everyone does. The knowledge of this presumably influences people’s expressed valuations, as people are almost ubiquitously sensitive to having inferences made about them. If these two things are true, it should be hard for expressed evaluations not to become somewhat repurposed for signaling, and so little reason to restrict them to topics in reach.