Edward Snowden and independent thinking

The reaction to Edward Snowden coming forward as the source for the NSA leaks has been interesting and varied, from clear signs of support to accusations of him being a traitor. I think the most interesting (and possibly the most prevalent reaction) is a little bit of fear mixed in with some what-is-he-thinking-could-he-really-be-that-naive and a lot of judgment guised as that's-not-how-I-would-have-done-it (this last one is the most hilarious to me -- you would never have done it, so any analysis of how you would have done it in a non-existent reality goes beyond mere speculation to pure fantasy). Like Monday morning quarterbacks, these people have questioned his decisions from things like his choice of an extradition-lite hideaway to his decision to come forward (as if him outting himself affects in anyway whether the U.S. government knows who he is and is trying to track him down) to whether he was able to save enough money to live on or if he is now completely unemployable for the rest of his life.


For as popular as Robert Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken" is, particularly during graduation speech season, there is a pretty clear social norm that favors steady job white picket fence 2 1/2 children and people that dare violate this norm can be very polarizing. On the one hand, most seem to acknowledge that there are great men and women that have bucked the trends and led to important advancements to us as a species. On the other hand, people who buck the trend present a lot of problems for society, at the very least because there is no comfortable pigeonhole to confine them to. This discomfort is often expressed in terms of these people being "unpredictable" or "untrustworthy". From Megan McArdle with the Daily Beast, "Whistleblowers Are Weird":

Human institutions, from the family to the government, are founded by trust.  You need to be able to trust the people you work with, at least to the extent of being able to predict their future behavior.  You may think you don't trust that rat down the hall, but in fact, you do trust him quite a lot: not to come into work with a machete and hack you to death in order to secure your superior office chair, not to start randomly swearing at clients, and so forth.

Some of that trust is enforced by fear of the consequences.  But a lot of our ability to make a credible committment to be trustworthy comes from the fact that we are hard wired to be loyal. . . . You would feel bad about yourself if you [broke that trust].

That's why psychopaths are so dangerous: they don't have any of the internal brakes, the shame and guilt, that keep the rest of us from blatantly violating the trust of people around us.  Oh, of course we do betray people from time to time--we break promises, forget to call our grandmothers, and engage in the guilty pleasure of gossiping about friends.  But the hallmark of these betrayals is that they are impulsive and unjustified.  Psychopaths feel no guilt about doing these things--or stealing your money, your wife, and your dog.  They are fundamentally untrustworthy, though also, thankfully rare.

This reasoning seems flawed -- the reason why the rat down the hall doesn't machete you is because he is hardwired to be loyal? She's correct that if you're worried about someone harming you, the world of possibilities includes both intentional bad behavior (which she suggests that only sociopaths commit because they don't feel shame and guilt and these "brakes" on bad behavior are both apparently necessary to avoid bad behavior and also infallible?) and the unintentional bad behavior of everyone else (which she suggests is always impulsive). She says that we need to trust people to predict their future behavior (says no statistician, behavioral economist, or psychologist ever because currently the best predictor of future behavior is not trust or loyalty but past behavior). But of the two possibilities of bad behavior, which is more predictable? The sociopath's? (Who is almost the quintessential economic rational actor.) Or the "impulsive and unjustified" (i.e. no apparent or reasonable triggers or other identifiable causes) behavior of the non-sociopath?

Nor does someone's trust or the apparent level of predictability of a person constrain his behavior. You can trust the rat down the hall all you want, but that doesn't mean that your trust in him will keep him from someday putting a machete in your back. The best you could say about him is that his past behavior doesn't indicate an above average risk of being a murderer and/or that the chance is already so low and there are so many competing dangers vying for our attention that it's simply not worth the effort of thinking about who exactly could kill you. At this point, though, we are simply talking about probabilities of behavior and "impulsive and unjustified" are almost by definition random and unpredictable.

What is apparently happening here is that McArdle and many others intuit that there is something particularly unknowable about whistleblowers and sociopaths. Uncertainty like this does in fact increase both actual and perceived risk. But there's nothing terribly "unknowable" about them. In fact, in a lot of ways they are less complicated than most people -- the one hyper-rational ruled by self-interest and the other an ideologue that can't be bought off by even a $200,000 a year cushy government salary. Which makes me think this is the real crux of the issue. The scary thing about a whistleblower or any other independent thinker is that he is not as constrained by social norms. This is evidenced for the whistleblower by his rejection of the picket fence and golden retriever lifestyle. For most people, it's possible to constrain their behavior with so-called golden handcuffs -- all the materialistic trappings of a comfortable life in exchange for unquestioning loyalty, including submitting one's will to one's employer, one's government, the police, and even one's parent teacher association. The norm is enforced as heartily as it is because although the majority acknowledges that they can gain big from independent thinking, they can't have everyone constantly questioning the most basic of social rules as it would lead to chaos and a weakening of the social contract. And people are incredibly and irrationally loss averse, so given the choice they would rather keep what they have than chance it on someone who who already comes off as a bit of an outsider (how do we even know he has our best interests at heart? how can we "trust" him to make the right decisions? isn't this why we have a government heavily dominated by administrative agencies so we could sub-contract out important decisions like this and never have to consider them ourselves?).

Thus, the uncertainty lies not in the behavior of the independent thinker, which is actually quite predictably independent, but whether he is right or not. The problem is that although we say that everyone is free to act according to his own best judgment, the "right" thing to do with that freedom as far as the majority is concerned is to marry, own a house, be gainfully employed, and have at least two children. Only then are you considered sufficiently invested in society that you become "predictable" to us, in that we know you have too much to lose to take any major risks ("freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose"). And if its one thing the financial crisis has taught us, it is that one person's actions can ripple through the entire global economy. Of course that applies for good things as well as bad, but how can we know ahead of time which is which? This is particularly a problem when (most?) people (inaccurately and unreliably) gauge the rightness or wrongness of decisions by imagining what they themselves would have done in that situation, and the thoughts and decisions of an independent thinker are difficult for many to fathom. (Of course, despite this inherent uncertainty, there are people who feel very comfortable assigning themselves the role of arbiter of good and bad. These people form the rank and file of the social norm police).

Still McArdle does make an interesting acknowledgment that the things that make people seem different and even unappealing to us are the very traits that make them socially beneficial:

We may well end up grateful to Edward Snowden, and also find that we don't like him very much. Of course, Edward Snowden probably doesn't care. After all, if he cared about people liking him as much as the rest of us do, he probably wouldn't have been able to do with he did.

More on loyalty

A reader asks:

How can you be loyal if you are a sociopath? I ask because I'm reading a lot about sociopaths and recovery from pathological relationships. And reading that being unfaithful is one characteristic.

My response:

Good question. I actually think it is very easy for a sociopath to be loyal. In some ways it's easier for them than it is for an empath to be loyal. To be truly loyal, you have to adopt a certain reality. For instance, to be patriotic you have to be "my country, right or wrong" (to take the popularly misquoted, and I think more accurate version). People loyal to Hitler had to drink the Kool-Aid, had to adopt his reality, his world view, his everything. If they didn't, then when the going got tough, they would betray him. Is that loyalty? I don't think so. But sociopaths can be this loyal if they choose. They have such a flexible sense of self and an ability to compartmentalize that together allow them to adopt your reality or Hitler's reality or really anything they want to believe. Why would we want to do it? I don't know, why not? For me, as I said, I use it when I am trying to maintain an interpersonal relationship.

I'm not saying empaths can't be loyal. There are probably more loyal empaths than sociopaths, even per capita. I'm just saying being a sociopath doesn't preclude the possibility of displaying incredible amounts of loyalty, particularly for the "favorites" that we have chosen. There's pretty much nothing I wouldn't do for some of my loved ones -- literally. I know empaths say that a lot, but I think it's obvious why that might be even more true for a sociopath friend.

Loyalty

I've said before that I use principles of economic efficiency to substitute for my pygmy moral compass. For interpersonal relationships, though, efficiency doesn't work as well. Instead I rely on loyalty. I am fiercely loyal. I am quick to adopt someone else's reality for the sake of the relationship. I never blame things on the other person when something goes wrong. I always assume that there was something I could have done better. It's why I can seem so devoted, a perfect mate. When the other person criticizes me, I am not offended, rather I gratefully welcome the feedback as additional information on which to base my behavior. I'm only as good as the information I receive.

I will, however, get very angry when I am not criticized, but rather rejected. It is one thing to say that I made a bad decision, or that you don't like it when I make certain jokes, or whatever it is that you find offensive about my behavior. It is quite another thing to think that I am a bad person, that you are disgusted with me, or appalled, or can't understand why I could ever think that my behavior was acceptable. If your feelings about me change from occasional annoyance or hurt to blanket disapproval, then you are no longer on my team. If you are no longer on my team, then there is nothing insulating you from my anger. And I am angry. If you have rejected who I am, I will have to fight back a white hot feeling of rage. I lose control in the rage.

The people who are able to talk me down from the rage and make things better, who watch after me and make sure I don't hurt myself or others -- those people are my inner circle. I don't really wish for fame, fortune, success, or whatever. But I do sometimes wish I could do more for those who show the same amount of loyalty to me that I show to them.

In-group altruism

I happened upon two articles about the emergence and explanation of altruism within groups.  There was this New Yorker article by Jonah Lehrer (sorry, not fully available to non-subcribers), which discussed the origin and development of the inclusive fitness theory.  Inclusive fitness basically holds that you are willing to be altruistic to another person in proportion to the advantage it will give your own genes in survival.  In other words, you share half of your genes with your siblings so you should be more willing to help them then, say, your cousin or even your nephew.  Here are some selections:


Charles Darwin regarded the problem of altruism—the act of helping someone else, even if it comes at a steep personal cost—as a potentially fatal challenge to his theory of natural selection. After all, if life was such a cruel “struggle for existence,” then how could a selfless individual ever live long enough to reproduce? Why would natural selection favor a behavior that made us less likely to survive? In “The Descent of Man,” Darwin wrote, “He who was ready to sacrifice his life, as many a savage has been, rather than betray his comrades, would often leave no offspring to inherit his noble nature.” And yet, as Darwin knew, altruism is everywhere, a stubborn anomaly of nature. Bats feed hungry brethren; honeybees defend the hive by committing suicide with a sting; birds raise offspring that aren’t their own; humans leap onto subway tracks to save strangers. The sheer ubiquity of such behavior suggests that kindness is not a losing life strategy.

For more than a century after Darwin, altruism remained a paradox. The first glimmers of a solution arrived in a Bloomsbury pub in the early nineteen-fifties. According to legend, the biologist J. B. S. Haldane was several pints into the afternoon when he was asked how far he would go to save the life of another person. Haldane thought for a moment, and then started scribbling numbers on the back of a napkin. “I would jump into a river to save two brothers, but not one,” Haldane said. “Or to save eight cousins but not seven.” His drunken answer summarized a powerful scientific idea. Because individuals share much of their genome with close relatives, a trait will also persist if it leads to the survival of their kin. According to Haldane’s moral arithmetic, sacrificing for a family member is just a different way of promoting our own DNA.

The idea of group altruism is interesting to me.  My father grew up in a large family and he has always prized a certain submission to the will of the group.  I quickly learned to speak in terms of "maximizing utility" for everyone concerned, in a very Bentham/Utilitarianism type of way, and my family would follow my plan over others.

Of course, as a sociopath I'm supposed to be a "cheater" -- someone who pretends to work for the good of the group while secretly not pulling my weight or siphoning off a disproportional amount of community output.

But I don't, or not always.  I guess it's because unlike bats or bees I'm not surrounded by idiots half the time.  Especially when I'm with my family or close friends who know better, it would be very difficult to defraud them consistently.  Maybe because I'm human and not a bat or a bee I can make higher cognitive determinations like it is better for me to be part of a group in which I support them and they support me in turn.

Could there be another reason why I engage in this sort of in-group altruism?  Is it because I don't just need specific things from the people in my group but actually need to associate with people in general?  From this Psychology Today post:

The idea that humans have a need to belong to social groups is so fundamental in psychology that one of the seminal papers on this topic has been cited 2572 times since its publication in 1995. Belonging doesn't just feel good — it's often essential for our very survival, even in modern times.

Do I also have an evolutionary drive to "belong"?  I actually think that I do, or at least I can feel in-group loyalty.  How about others?

Conversation with a reader: loyalty (part 1)

Excerpts from an IM conversation with a reader:

M.E.: It's hard being in any sort of relationship with a sociopath

Reader: It makes me wonder what is the best relationship for a sociopath. I wonder why socios don't pair up more.

M.E.: Probably not enough glue to keep them together. There are times when I question pursuing even some of my most enduring and meaningful relationships, family and friends. Empaths can't ignore sunk costs, typically. If they've poured so much into a relationship, they feel the urge to keep investing even if the costs exceed the benefits. That makes them poor entrepreneurs (or great ones!), but good in relationships because they’re not just willing but wanting to stick through things when they get tough.

Reader: The attachment/bond added to the investment keeps them around...

M.E.: Exactly. Sociopaths don't feel that pull. Not as strongly, at least. I am constantly asking myself, “Is this relationship or plan of action providing more to me than I am giving to it?”

Reader: But I thought sociopaths could be extremely loyal

M.E.: Yes, they can be very loyal. There will typically always be some level of interaction at which it is worth pursuing a relationship.

Reader: Ah, so they're loyal when the relationship is clearly rewarding.

M.E.: Well, maybe instead of best friends they could be good friends, like downsizing, or going on a little hiatus. I think that most people’s experience with sociopaths is that they want to eventually come back and maintain some sort of contact. Just because they ignore the sunk costs does not mean they go so far as to ignore the investment/equity that is already there.