The Altruism Debate
For nearly forty years, two of the world’s most distinguished psychologists have locked horns over
whether the decision to give can be purely altruistic, or whether it’s always ultimately selfish. Rather
than debate philosophy, each has come to battle wielding a deadlier weapon: the psychological
experiment.
The
defendant of pure altruism
is C. Daniel Batson, who believes that we engage in truly selfless
giving when we feel empathy for another person in need. The greater the need, and the stronger our
attachment to the person experiencing it, the more we empathize. When we empathize with a person,
we focus our energy and attention on helping him or her—not because it will make us feel good but
because we genuinely care. Batson believes that although some people feel empathy more intensely
and frequently than others, virtually all humans have the capacity for empathy—even the most
disagreeable of takers. As Adam Smith put it centuries ago: “the emotion which we feel for the
misery of others . . . is by no means confined to the virtuous and humane, though they perhaps may feel
it with the most exquisite sensibility. The greatest ruffian, the most hardened violator of the laws of
society, is not altogether without it.”
The
devil’s advocate
is Robert Cialdini, who argues that there’s no such thing as pure altruism.
He believes that human beings are frequently generous, giving, and caring. But he doesn’t think these
behaviors are entirely altruistic in origin. He believes that when others hurt, we hurt—and this
motivates us to help. Cialdini’s first challenge to Batson’s claims was that when empathy leads us to
help, it’s not because our ultimate goal is to benefit the other person. He proposed that when others
are in need, we feel distressed, sad, or guilty. To reduce our own negative feelings, we help. Cialdini
accumulated an impressive body of studies suggesting that when people feel distressed, guilty, or sad
toward another person in need, they help.
Batson’s rebuttal: it’s true that people sometimes help to reduce negative feelings, but this isn’t
the only reason. And negative feelings don’t always lead to helping. When we feel distressed, sad, or
guilty, our ultimate goal is to reduce these negative feelings. In some cases, helping is the strategy that
we choose. But in many cases, we can reduce our negative feelings in other ways, such as distracting
ourselves or escaping the situation altogether. Batson figured out a clever way to tease apart whether
empathy drives us to help because we want to reduce another person’s distress or our own distress. If
the goal is to reduce our own distress, we should choose whatever course of action makes us feel
better. If the goal is to reduce another person’s distress, we should help even when it’s costly and
other courses of action would make us feel good.
In one experiment, Batson and colleagues gave people a choice: watch a woman receive electric
shocks or leave the experiment to avoid the distress. Not surprisingly, 75 percent left. But when they
felt empathy for the woman, only 14 percent left; the other 86 percent stayed and offered to take the
shocks in her place. And of the people who stayed to help, the ones who empathized the most strongly
were willing to endure four times as many shocks as those who felt less empathy. Batson and
colleagues demonstrated this pattern in more than half a dozen experiments. Even when people can
reduce their negative feelings by escaping the situation, if they’re feeling empathy, they stay and help
anyway, at a personal cost of time and pain. On the basis of this evidence, Batson concluded that
reducing bad feelings is not the only reason people help, and a comprehensive analysis of eighty-five
different studies backed him up.
But Cialdini, one of the greatest social thinkers of our time, wasn’t done yet. He acknowledged
that empathy can drive helping. Feelings of concern and compassion certainly motivate us to act for
the benefit of others at a personal cost. But he wasn’t convinced that this reflects pure altruism. He
argued that when we empathize with a victim in need, we become so emotionally attached that we
experience a sense of oneness with the victim. We merge the victim into our sense of self. We see
more of ourselves in the victim. And this is why we help: we’re really helping ourselves. Quoting
Adam Smith again, “By the imagination we place ourselves in his situation, we conceive ourselves
enduring all the same torments, we enter as it were into his body, and become in some measure the
same person with him, and thence form some idea of his sensations, and even feel something.”
Cialdini and colleagues conducted numerous experiments supporting this idea. Empathy leads to a
sense of oneness, or self-other overlap, and this leads to greater helping. Batson’s team came back
with another rebuttal: that is altruism. If we empathize with other people to the point of merging our
own identities with theirs, we care about them as much as we care about ourselves. Because we no
longer place our interests above theirs, helping them is purely altruistic.
Stalemate.
Both camps agree that empathy leads to helping. Both camps agree that a sense of oneness is a key
reason why. But they fundamentally differ about whether oneness is selfish or altruistic. I believe
there’s a middle ground here, and it’s one that Deron Beal discovered early on. When he started
Freecycle, he wanted to keep used goods out of landfills by giving them away to people who wanted
them. But he also had some personal interests at stake. In his recycling program, he had a warehouse
full of stuff he couldn’t use or recycle, and his boss wanted the warehouse emptied. In addition, Beal
was hoping to get rid of an old mattress that he owned. None of his friends needed it, and it was too
big to throw away. To dump it, he would need to borrow a truck and drive the mattress to a landfill,
where he would be charged for disposal. Beal realized it would be easier and cheaper if he could
just give it away to someone on Freecycle.
This is why many takers and matchers started giving on Freecycle. It’s an efficient way to get rid
of things they don’t want and probably can’t sell on Craigslist. But soon, Beal knows from personal
experience, people who initially give things away for selfish reasons begin to care about the people
they’re helping. When the recipient arranged to pick up his mattress, Beal was thrilled. “I thought I
was getting away with giving a mattress away, that I was the one benefiting,” he says. “But when the
person showed up at my door and thanked me, I felt good. It was only partially a selfish act: I was
helping someone else in a way that made me happy. I felt so darn good about it that I started giving
away other items.”
After a decade of research, I’ve come to the conclusion that Beal’s experience is the norm rather
than the exception. Oneness is otherish. Most of the time that we give, it’s based on a cocktail of
mixed motives to benefit others and ourselves. Takers and matchers may be most likely to give when
they feel they can advance others’ interests and their own at the same time. As the primatologist Frans
de Waal writes in The Age of Empathy, “The selfish/unselfish divide may be a
red herring
. Why try to
extract the self from the other, or the other from the self, if the merging of the two is the secret behind
our cooperative nature?”
Consider Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia written for free by upwards of three million
volunteers, with more than a hundred thousand of them contributing regularly. When asked why they
write for Wikipedia, hardly any volunteers reported being involved for self-serving reasons, such as
to make new contacts, build their reputations, reduce loneliness, or feel valued and needed. But the
relatively altruistic value of helping others wasn’t the sole factor they emphasized either. Wikipedia
contributors aren’t necessarily givers across the different domains of their lives, but they’re
volunteering their time to exhaustively summarize and cross-reference Wikipedia entries. Why? In a
survey, two reasons dominated all others: they thought it was fun and they believed information
should be free. For many volunteers,
writing Wikipedia entries
is otherish: it provides personal
enjoyment and benefits others.
Beal believes the otherish structure of Freecycle is one of the major reasons that it grew so fast.
Giving away items that we don’t need, and benefiting others in the process, is the gift economy
equivalent of Adam Rifkin’s five-minute favors: low cost to oneself coupled with potentially high
benefit to others. It’s noteworthy that Freecycle’s formal mission statement highlights two sets of
benefits: members can contribute to others and gain for themselves. The mission is to “build a
worldwide gifting movement that reduces waste, saves precious resources & eases the burden on our
landfills while enabling our members to benefit from the strength of a larger community.”
Beyond this otherish structure, there’s a central feature of a Freecycle community that motivates
people to start giving. A clue to the mechanism lies in the story of a French consultant who struggled
for years to earn the trust of a potential client—until he recognized the power of a sense of
community.
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