The Rules of the Game (Carl Sagan)
Carl Sagan, Dr.
Everything morally
right derives from on of four sources: it concerns either full perception
or intelligent development of what is true; or the preservation of organized
society, where every man is rendered his due and all obligations are faithfully
discharged; or the greatness and strength of a noble, invincible spirit;
or order and moderation in everything said and done, whereby is temperance
and self-control.
C I C E R O,
De Officiis, I, 5 (45-44
B.C.)
I remember the end of a long
ago perfect day in 1939—a day that powerfully influenced my thinking, a
day when my parents introduced me to the wonders of the New York World's
Fair. It was late, well past my bedtime. Safely perched on my father's
shoulders, holding onto his ears, my mother reassuringly at my side, I
turned to see the great Trylon and Perisphere, the architectural icons
of the fair, illuminated in shimmering blue pastels. We were abandoning
the future, the "World of Tomorrow," for the BMT subway train. As we paused
to rearrange a tray around his neck. He was selling pencils. My father
reached into the crumpled brown paper bag that held the remains of our
lunches, withdrew an apple, and handed it to the pencil man. I let out
a loud wail. I disliked apples then, and had refused this on both at lunch
and at dinner. But I had, nevertheless, a proprietary interest in it. It
was my apple, and my father had just given it away to a funny—looking stranger—who,
to compound my anguish, was now glaring unsympathetically in my direction.
Although my father was a
person of nearly limitless patience and tenderness, I could see he was
disappointed in me. He swept me up and hugged me tight to him.
"He's a poor stiff, out of
work," he said to me, too quietly for the man to hear. "He hasn't eaten
all day. We have enough. We can give him an apple."
I reconsidered, stifled my
sobs, took another wishful glance at the World of Tomorrow, and gratefully
fell asleep in his arms.
***
Moral codes that seek to regulate human
behavior have been with us not only since the dawn of civilization but
also among our pre-civilized, and highly social, hunter-gatherer ancestors.
And even earlier. Different societies have different codes. Many cultures
say one thing and do another. In a few fortunate societies, an inspired
lawgiver lays down a set of rules to live by (and more often than not claims
to have been instructed by a god—without which few would follow the prescriptions).
For example, the codes of Ashoka (India), Hammurabi (Babylon), Lycurgus
(Sparta) and Solon (Athens), which once held sway over mighty civilizations,
are today largely defunct. Perhaps they misjudged human nature and asked
too much of us. Perhaps experience from one epoch or culture is not wholly
applicable to another.
Surprisingly, there are today efforts -
tentative but emerging - to approach the matter scientifically; i.e., experimentally.
In our everyday lives, as in the-momentous
affairs of nations, we must decide: What does it mean to do the right thing?
Should we help a needy stranger? How do we deal with an enemy? Should we
ever take advantage of someone who treats us kindly? If hurt by a friend,
or helped by an enemy, should we reciprocate in kind; or does the totality
of past behavior outweigh any recent departures from the norm.
Examples: Your sister-in-law ignores your
snub and invites you over for Christmas dinner. Should you accept? Shattering
a four-year-long worldwide voluntary moratorium, China resumes nuclear
weapons testing; should we? How much should we give to charity? Serbian
soldiers systematically rape Bosnian women; should Bosnian soldiers systematically
rape Serbian women? After centuries of oppression, the National Party leader
F. W. de Klerk makes overtures to the African National Congress; should
Nelson Mandela and the ANC have reciprocated? A coworker makes you look
bad in front of the boss; should you try to get even? Should we cheat on
our income tax returns? If we can get away with it? If an oil company supports
a symphony orchestra or sponsors a refined TV drama, ought we to ignore
its pollution of the environment? Should you cheat at cards? On a
larger scale: Should we kill killers?
In making such decisions, we're concerned
not only with doing right but also with what works-what makes us and the
rest of society happier and more secure. There's a tension between what
we call ethical and what we call pragmatic. If, even in the long run, ethical
behavior were self-defeating, eventually we would not call it ethical,
but foolish. (We might even claim to respect it but ignore it in practice.)
Bearing in mind the variety and complexity of human behavior, are there
any simple rules—whether we call them ethical or pragmatic—that actually
work?
How do we decide what to do? Our responses
are partly determined by our perceived self-interest. We reciprocate in
kind or act contrary because we hope it will accomplish what we want. Nations
assemble or blow up nuclear weapons so other countries won't trifle with
them. We return good for evil because we know that we can thereby sometimes
touch people's sense of justice, or shame them into being nice. But sometimes
we're not motivated selfishly. Some people seem just naturally kind. We
my accept aggravation from aged parents or from children, because we love
them and want them to be happy, even it's at some cost to us. Sometimes
we're tough with our children and cause them a little unhappiness, because
we want to mold their characters and believe that the long-term results
will bring them more happiness than the short-term pain.
Cases are different. Peoples and nations
are different. Knowing how to negotiate this labyrinth is part of wisdom.
But bearing in mind the variety and complexity of human behavior, are there
some simple rules, whether we call them ethical or pragmatic, that actually
work? Or maybe we should avoid trying to think it through and just do what
feels right. But even then how do we determine what "feels right"?
***
The most admired standard of behavior,
in the West, at least, is the Golden Rule, attributed to Jesus of Nazareth.
Everyone knows its formulation in the first-century Gospel of St. Matthew:
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Almost no one
follows it. When the Chinese philosopher Kung-Tzu (known as Confucius in
the West) was asked in the fifth century B.C. his opinion of the Golden
Rule, of repaying evil with kindness, he replied, "Then with what will
you repay kindness?" Shall the poor woman who envies her neighbor's wealth
give what little she has to the rich? Shall the masochist inflict pain
on his neighbor? The Golden Rule takes no account of human differences.
Are we really capable, after our cheek has been slapped, of turning the
other cheek so it can be slapped? With a heartless adversary, isn't this
just a guarantee of more suffering?
The Silver Rule is different: Do not
do unto others what you would not have them do unto you. It also can
be found worldwide, including, a generation before Jesus, in the writings
of Rabbi Hillel. The most inspiring twentieth-century exemplars of the
Silver Rule are Mohandas Gandhi and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. They counseled
oppressed peoples not to repay violence with violence, but not to be compliant
and obedient either. Nonviolent civil disobedience was what they advocated—putting
your body on the line and showing, by your willingness to be punished in
defying an unjust law, the justice of your cause. They aimed at melting
the hearts of their oppressors (and those who had not yet made up their
minds).
King paid tribute to Gandhi as the first
person in history to convert the Gold or Silver Rules into an effective
instrument of social change. And Gandhi made it clear where his approach
came from: "I learnt the lesson on nonviolence from my wife, when I tried
to bend her to my will. Her determined resistance to my will on the one
hand, and her quit submission to the suffering of my stupidity involved
on the other, ultimately made me ashamed of myself and cured me of my stupidity
in thinking that I was born to rule over her."
Nonviolent civil disobedience has worked
notable political change in this century—in prying India loose from British
rule and stimulating the end of classic colonialism worldwide, and in providing
some civil rights for African-Americans—although the threat of violence
by others, however disavowed by Gandhi and King, my have also helped. The
African National Congress (ANC) grew up in the Gandhian tradition. But
by the 1950's it was clear that nonviolent noncooperation was making no
progress whatever with the ruling white Nationalist Party. So in 1961 Nelson
Mandela and his colleagues formed the military wing of the ANC, the Umkhonto
we Sizwe, the Spear of the Nation, on the quite un-Gandhian grounds that
the only thing whites understand is force.
Even Gandhi had trouble reconciling the
rule of nonviolence with the necessities of defense against those with
less lofty rules of conduct? "I have not the qualifications for teaching
the philosophy of life. I have barely qualifications for practicing the
philosophy I believe. I am but a poor struggling soul yearning to be .
. . wholly truthful and wholly nonviolent in thought, word and deed, but
ever failing to reach the ideal.
"Repay kindness with kindness," said Confucius,
"but evil with justice." This might be called the Brass or Brazen Rule:
Do unto others as they do unto you. It's the lex talionis,
"an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth," plus "one good turn
deserves another." In actual human (and chimpanzee) behavior it's a familiar
standard. "If the enemy inclines toward peace, do you also incline toward
peace," President Bill Clinton quoted from the Qur'an at the Israeli-Palestinian
peace accords. Without having to appeal to anyone's better nature, we institute
a kind of operant conditioning, rewarding them when they're nice to us
and punishing them when they're not. We're not pushovers, but we're not
unforgiving either. It sounds promising. Or is it true that "two wrongs
don't make a right?
Of baser coinage is the Iron Rule: Do
unto others as you like, before they do it unto you. It is sometimes
formulated as, "He who has the gold makes the rules," underscoring not
just its departure from, but also its contempt for the Golden Rule. This
is the secret maxim of many, if they can get away with it, and often the
unspoken precept of the powerful.
Finally, I should mention two other rules,
found throughout the living world. They explain a great deal: Suck up
to those above you, and abuse those below. This is the motto of bullies
and the norm in many nonhuman primate societies. It's really the Golden
Rule for superiors, the Iron Rule for inferiors. Since there is no known
alloy of gold and iron, we'll call it the Tin Rule for its flexibility.
The other common rule is: Give precedence in all things to close relatives,
and do as you like to others. This Nepotism Rule is known to evolutionary
biologists as "kin selection."
Despite its apparent practicality, there's
a fatal flaw in the Brazen Rule: unending vendetta. It hardly matters who
starts the violence. Violence begets violence, and each side has reason
to hate the other. "There is no way to peace," A. J. Muste said, "Peace
is the way." But peace is hard and violence is easy. Even if almost everyone
is for ending the vendetta, a single act of retribution can stir it up
again: A dead relative's sobbing widow and grieving children are before
us. Old men and women recall atrocities from their childhoods. The reasonable
part of us tries to keep the peace, but the passionate part of us cries
out for vengeance. Extremists in the two warring factions can count on
one another. They are allied against the rest of us, contemptuous of appeals
to understanding and loving-kindness. A few hotheads can force-march a
legion of more prudent and rational people to brutality and war.
Many in the West have been so mesmerized
by the appalling accords with Adolf Hitler in Munich in 1938 that they
are unable to distinguish cooperation and appeasement. Rather than having
to judge each gesture and approach on its own merits, we merely decide
that the opponent is thoroughly evil, that all his concessions are offered
in bad faith, and that force is the only thing he understands. Perhaps
for Hitler this was the right judgement. But in general it is not the right
judgment, as much as I wish that the invasion of the Rhineland had been
forcibly opposed. It consolidates hostility on both sides and makes conflict
much more likely. In a world with nuclear weapons, uncompromising hostility
carries special and very dire dangers.
Breaking out of a long series of reprisals
is, I claim, very hard. There are ethnic groups who have weakened themselves
to the point of extinction because they had no machinery to escape from
this cycle, the Kaingang of the Brazilian highlands, for example. The warring
nationalities in the former Yugoslavia, in Rwanda, and elsewhere may provide
further examples. The Brazen Rule seems too unforgiving. The Iron Rule
promotes the advantage of a ruthless and powerful few against the interests
of everybody else. The Golden and Silver Rules seem too complacent. They
systematically fail to punish cruelty and exploitation. They hope to coax
people from evil to good by showing that kindness is possible. But there
are sociopaths who do not much care about the feelings of others, and it
is hard to imagine a Hitler or Stalin being shamed into redemption by good
example. Is there a rule between the Golden and Silver on the one hand
and the Brazen, Iron and Tin on the other which works better than any of
them alone?
With so many different rules, how can
you tell which to use, which will work? More than one rule may be operating
even in the same person or nation. Are we doomed just to guess about this,
or to rely on intuition, or just to parrot what we've been taught? Let's
try to put aside, just for the moment, whatever rules we've been taught,
and those we feel passionately—perhaps from a deeply rooted sense of justice—must
be right.
Suppose we seek not to confirm or deny
what we've been taught but to find out what really works. Is there a way
to test competing codes of ethics? Granting that the real world may be
much more complicated than any simulation, can we explore the matter scientifically?
***
We're used to playing games in which somebody
wins and somebody loses. Every point made by our opponent puts us that
much farther behind. "Win-lose" games seem natural, and many people are
hard pressed to think of a game that isn't win-lose. In win-lose games,
the losses just balance the wins. That's why they're also called "zero-sum"
games. There's no ambiguity about your opponent's intentions: Within the
rules of the game, he will do anything he can to defeat you.
Many children are aghast the first time
they really come face to face with the "lose" side of win-lose games. On
the verge of bankruptcy in Monopoly, for example, they plead for special
dispensation (forgoing rents, for example), and when this is not forthcoming
may, in tears, denounce the game as heartless and unfeeling-which, of course,
it is. (I've seen the board overturned, hotels and "Chance" cards and metal
icons spilled onto the floor in spitting anger and humiliation—and not
only by children.) Within the rules of Monopoly, there's no way for players
to cooperate so that all benefit. That's not how the game is designed.
The same is true for boxing, football, hockey, basketball, baseball, lacrosse,
tennis, racquetball, chess, all Olympic events, yacht and car racing, pinochle,
potsie, and partisan politics. In none of these games is there an opportunity
to practice the Golden or Silver Rule, or even the Brazen. There is room
only for the Rule of Iron and Tin. If we revere the Golden Rule, why is
it so rare in the games we teach our children?
After a million years of intermittently
warring tribes we readily enough think in zero-sum mode, and treat every
interaction as a contest or conflict. Nuclear war, though (and many conventional
wars), economic depression and assaults on the global environment are all
"lose-lose" propositions. Such vital human concerns as love, friendship,
parenthood, music, art, and the pursuit of knowledge are "win-win" propositions.
Our vision is dangerously narrow if all we know is "win-lose."
The scientific field that deals with such
matters is called game theory, used in military tactics and strategy, trade
policy, corporate competition, limiting of environmental pollution, and
plans for nuclear war. The paradigmatic game is the Prisoner's Dilemma.
It is very much non-zero-sum. Win-win, win-lose and lose-lose outcomes
all are possible. "Sacred" books carry few useful insights into strategy
here. It is a wholly pragmatic game.
Imagine that you and a friend are arrested
for committing a serious crime. For the purpose of the game, it doesn't
matter whether either, neither, or both of you did it. What matters is
that the police say they think you did. Before the two of you have any
chance to compare stories or plan strategy, you are taken to separate interrogation
cells. There, oblivious of your Miranda rights ("You have the right to
remain silent..."), they try to make you confess. They tell you, as police
sometimes do, that your friend has confessed and implicated you. (Some
friend!) The police might be telling the truth. Or they might be lying.
You're permitted only to plead innocent or guilty. If you're willing to
say anything, what's your best tack to minimize punishment?
Here are the possible outcomes:
If you deny committing the crime and (unknown
to you) your friend also denies it, the case might be hard to prove. In
the plea bargain, both your sentences will be very light.
If you confess, and your friend does likewise,
then the effort the State had to expend to solve the crime was small. In
exchange you both may be given a fairly light sentence, although not so
light as if you both had asserted your innocence.
But if you plead innocent, and your friend
confesses, the State will ask for the maximum sentence for you and minimal
punishment (maybe none) for your friend. Uh-oh. You are very vulnerable
to a kind of double cross, what game theorists call "defection."
So's he.
So, if you and your friend "cooperate"
with one another—both pleading innocent (or both pleading guilty)—you both
escape the worst. Should you play it safe and guarantee no worse than a
middle range of punishment by confessing? Then, if your friend pleads innocent
while you plead guilty, well, too bad for him, and you might get off scot-
free.
When you think it through, you realize
that, whatever your friend does you're better off defecting than cooperating.
Maddeningly, the same holds true for your friend. But if you both defect,
you are both worse off than if you had both cooperated. This is the Prisoner's
Dilemma.
Now consider a repeated Prisoner's Dilemma,
in which the two players go through a sequence of such games. At the end
of each they figure out from their punishment how the other must have pled.
They gain experience about each other's strategy (and character). Will
they learn to cooperate game after game, both always denying that they
committed any crime? Even if the reward for finking on the other is large?
You might try cooperating or defecting,
depending on how the previous game or games have gone. If you cooperate
overmuch, the other player may exploit your good nature. If you defect
overmuch, your friend is likely to defect often, and this is bad for both
of you. You know your defection pattern is data being fed to the other
player. What is the right mix of cooperation and defection? How to behave
then becomes, like any other question in Nature, a subject to be investigated
experimentally.
This matter has been explored in a continuing
round-robin computer tournament by the University of Michigan sociologist
Robert Axelrod, in his remarkable book The Evolution of Cooperation. Various
codes of behavior confront one another, and at the end we see who wins
(who gets the lightest cumulative prison term). The simplest strategies
might be to cooperate all the time, no matter how much advantage is taken
of you; or never to cooperate, no matter what benefits might accrue from
cooperation. These are the Golden Rule and the Iron Rule. They always lose,
the one from a superfluity of kindness, the other from an overabundance
of ruthlessness. Strategies slow to punish defection lose—in part because
they send a signal that noncooperation can win. The Golden Rule is not
only an unsuccessful strategy; it is also dangerous for other players,
who may succeed in the short term only to be mowed down by exploiters in
the long term.
Should you defect at first, but if your
opponent cooperates even once, cooperate in all future games? Should you
cooperate at first, but if your opponent defects even once, defect in all
future games? These strategies also lose. Unlike sports, you cannot rely
on your opponent to be always out to get you.
The most effective strategy in many such
tournaments is called "Tit-for-Tat." It's very simple: You start out cooperating,
and in each subsequent round simply do what your opponent did the last
time. You punish defections, but once the other player cooperates, you're
willing to let bygones be bygones. At first it seems to garner only mediocre
success. But as time goes on, the other strategies defeat themselves, from
too much kindness or too much cruelty-and this middle way pulls ahead.
Except for always being nice on the first move, Tit-for-Tat is identical
to the Brazen Rule. It promptly (in the very next game) rewards cooperation
and punishes defection, and has the great virtue that it makes your strategy
absolutely clear to your opponent. (Strategic ambiguity can be lethal.)
TABLE OF
PROPOSED RULES TO LIVE BY
The Golden Rule |
Do unto others as you would have them
do unto you. |
The Silver Rule |
Do not do unto others what you would not
have them do unto you. |
The Brazen Rule |
Do unto others as they do unto you. |
The Iron Rule |
Do unto others as you like, before they
do it unto you. |
The Tit-for-Tat
Rule |
Cooperate with others first, then do unto
them as they do untoyou. |
Once there get to be several players employing
Tit-for-Tat, they rise in the standings together. To succeed, Tit-for-Tat
strategists must find others who are willing to reciprocate, with whom
they can cooperate. After the first tournament in which the Brazen Rule
unexpectedly won, some experts thought the strategy too forgiving. Next
tournament, they tried to exploit it by defecting more often. They always
lost. Even experienced strategists tended to underestimate the power of
forgiveness and reconciliation. Tit-for-Tat involves an interesting
mix of proclivities: initial friendliness, willingness to forgive, and
fearless retaliation. The superiority of the Tit-for-Tat Rule in such tournaments
was recounted by Axelrod.
Something like it can be found throughout
the animal kingdom and has been well-studied in our closest relatives,
the chimps. Described and named "reciprocal altruism" by the biologist
Robert Trivers, animals may do favors for others in expectation of having
the favors returned—not every time, but often enough to be useful. This
is hardly an invariable moral strategy, but is not uncommon either. So
there is no need to debate the antiquity of the Golden, Silver, and Brazen
Rules, or Tit-for-Tat, and the priority of the moral prescriptives in the
Book of Leviticus. Ethical rules of this sort were not originally invented
by some enlightened human lawgiver. They go deep into our evolutionary
past. They were with our ancestral line from a time before we were human.
The Prisoner's Dilemma is a very simple
game. Real life is considerably more complex. If he gives our apple to
the pencil man, is my father more likely to get an apple back? Not from
the pencil man; we'll never see him again. But might widespread acts of
charity improve the economy and give my father a raise? Or do we give the
apple for emotional, not economic rewards? Also, unlike the players in
an ideal Prisoner's Dilemma game, human beings and nations come to their
interactions with predispositions, both hereditary and cultural.
But the central lessons in a not very prolonged
round-robin of Prisoner's Dilemma are about strategic clarity; about the
self-defeating nature of envy; about the importance of long-term over short-term
goals; about the dangers of both tyranny and patsydom; and especially about
approaching the whole issue of rules to live by as an experimental question.
Game theory also suggests that a broad knowledge of history is a key survival
tool.
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