First, some monkeys
Have you watched the youtube video of monkeys being rewarded with cucumbers and grapes, respectively? If you haven’t, it’s a must watch. It’s short and I’ve linked you to the correct time.
Franz de Waal (infamous member of the Peace and Justice Mafia according to one Steven Pinker) shows us that Capuchins, like humans, have an ingrained sense of fairness.
It’s hard to watch this video and not agree with the monkey. Not only is the situation unfair, but if she graciously accepts the cucumber then she is certainly doomed to a life of cucumbers. Even I, despite my magnanimity, would not waste precious grapes as a reward for a monkey that seemed nearly just as happy with cheap and abundant cucumbers.
The issue at hand
Mark, from the very interesting and deeply rational blog apxhard would like you to know that The Way You Think About Value is Making You Miserable. He argues that people tend to be more focused on changes in utility rather than total utility. He thinks this is bad:
“you think the purpose of the utility function is to help you make choices which have the effect of altering the present, but pleasant, joyful feelings come largely from evaluating the present as being good.”
I find myself immediately agreeing with Mark here. No matter the evils of the world, their are countless joys in it. Further, there are men who have lived and died for the chance to purchase something as mundane as the spices in my kitchen cabinet. Surely if a man of the same flesh and blood as me would risk everything for a chance at acquiring some great treasure, then my own unfettered access to that treasure ought to bring me no small happiness.
But to my great surprise purchasing a vast quantity of fine spices at Costco and loading them into my faster-than-a-cheetah 2012 Toyota Corolla doesn’t leave me in a rapture of ecstasy in the parking lot. Mark explains:
“Instead of computing your utility function on the present moment, you most often compute the delta of your utility function between the present and some hypothetical future. Perfectly fine situations have negative utility simply because the utility gradient that you have computed exhibits a downward slope at your location.”
In other words, instead of dancing in glee at the contents of my spice drawer, the existence of my Corolla, or the absolutely incredibly safe and futuristic world I live in, I take these things for granted. In the parking lot at Costco I use the limitless possibilities of my mental effort to think of a world where the car next to me is a little better at parking. My assessment of my situation is thus slightly negative. It make me unhappy.
This is a great insight from Mark. But does it follow that ignoring the slope of my happiness (or counterfactuals where I am happier) and instead focusing on the area under the curve (all the great things about my place in this world) is the correct course of action?
Where I start to disagree
This is where we return to our Capuchin friend who has been given a cucumber instead of a grape. Should she increase her happiness by entering a zen like state where she deeply appreciates the cucumber and all the good in the world? Or should it throw the cucumber in the experimenter’s face and shout “Vive la revolution! Animal Liberation! Live free or die!”
Mark doesn’t address our Capuchin directly. But he does elaborate on the importance of focusing on counterfactuals:
“You are mistaking the derivative of your utility function for the reality that your utility function evolved to represent. You are miserable because you have substituted a counterfactual-derivative of the utility function, for the utility function itself.”
But I think this is a mistake. The obsession in the change of the utility function is what makes us who we are. Evolution, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to find happiness especially important. It prefers relentless betterment.
Examples
Magnus Carlson is the greatest Chess Player who has ever lived. At any given moment, for his personal happiness, he should probably step back and think “holy bananas am I good at Chess.” He should realize that he can maximize personal utility by spending time focusing on what he has already accomplished: he should bask in his own glory, see the vast ocean he has accumulated under his curve. Why does he spend his time agonizing about an insane counterfactual: a world where he is slightly better at chess. Is such musing a mistake despite of his success?
I think part of the solution here is that not all counterfactuals are created equal. It’s very easy to make myself miserable thinking about how I’ll never have the long flowing locks of Richard Branson, or the square jaw of Elon Musk. That’s because these traits are impossible to obtain (by natural means.) But spending time on counterfactuals that are readily attained seems positive: what if the dishes were clean, I’d be happier. If this counterfactual is followed by action and attainment it feels like job well done. My slope is up, and in future moments where I reflect on the area under the curve, well that’s bigger too.
But there’s a more complicate scenario. Some counterfactuals offer great reward, but have great cost or low likelihood of success. Is it a good idea to spend time thinking about how great it would to be rich? I think the answer is maybe. The nature of the path to attainment is the crux of the issue.
For example, If I decide to pursue a goal of being a billionaire by developing preexisting talents, working hard, and starting a business that (by my calculation) adds value, then if I have anything close to a normal constitution I’ll likely end up happy. Sure, I’m unlikely to actually become a billionaire, but the pursuit of such extreme wealth may yield a greater drive and ultimately a greater success. The dream of the counterfactual is a success, as long as I take pause at times to see what I’ve accomplished.
But what if I think, as many did before me, that becoming rich involves going to California and becoming a prospector for gold? I might leave behind a middle class life and abandon my family for isolation and hardship. Indeed, I might not particularly like nature, physical labor, or even care about the ore itself. This situation feels like a path to tragedy. The counterfactual drives me towards behavior that makes me less happy, it reduces the area under my curve in all but the unlikely scenario of great success. What’s more, if this is the nature of my moral system, the weight of the counterfactual will likely drive me towards exploitation and greed. It’s a shoot for the moon, but if you miss you’ll endure the agony of eternal loneliness and starvation sort of situation.
Conclusive conclusions
In all fairness, that is what Mark is trying to prevent. His thesis is that people should shift how they use a utility function, that they should spend more time looking under the curve, and less time obsessing about its slope. I completely agree. I think people in general, and especially contemporary Westerners, obsess about counterfactuals. It’s strange that obsessing about making ourselves better is making us miserable. But if we agree with him he’s absolutely correct that we need to step back and appreciate all the good in the world. Happiness for it’s own sake is worth it. In Mark’s words if we focus on our total utility, the added good feelings will “spontaneously add joy and love to the world, and contribute to the human project.” Genuinely a beautiful sentiment. Unfortunately for Mark, I also think it’s a counterfactual.