A World Without Cooperation: What Would It Be Like?
In 19th and early 20th century America, much was made of the
virtue of “rugged individualism.” People were thought to be
virtuous if they were self-reliant -- if they developed the
requisite coping skills and other forms of “human capital” to
enable them to survive and prosper in a world full of
opportunities, to be sure, but full of pitfalls and hazards as well.
This ideology assumed mythic proportions, personified in the
famous Horatio Alger stories about a young lad who succeeded
in a cruel world by virtue of his individual effort and cunning.
The ideology of rugged individualism, however, was qualified
by an abiding faith in two forms of community. First, it was not
really individuals, per se, that were to be rugged and self-reliant,
but families. Responsibilities for, and cooperation within
families were values that were held dear, putting to shame the
purported “family values” of contemporary political debate.
Sometimes these families were of a rather extended sort.
Second, the idea of neighborliness apparently sat comfortably
alongside that of self-reliance. Groups of neighbors engaged
collectively in activities ranging from helping one another at
harvest time to barn-building parties to volunteer fire
departments to vigilantism.
In contrast, the modern urban landscape, with its combination of social
isolation (despite physical proximity, alienation, and individual
surliness, is often portrayed as a world of the cooperative spirit of that
earlier era. Try flagging down a motorists to help you with your
disabled vehicle during evening rush hour in Dallas, Houston, or Austin.
It is, however, only a pale approximation of the quintessential world of
no cooperation -- the fictive “state of nature” invented by the 17th
century English philosopher Thomas Hobbes. Hobbes described the life
of the individual human before the advent of civil society as one that
was “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” In this world, individuals
had to scrape and scratch for survival against not only the natural
elements but also against other humans. Not only did one have to hunt
and gather food, provide shelter and clothing but also protect
themselves from the predation and thievery that other humans inflicted
upon them.
As Hobbes and many commentators after him observed, human
effort devoted to protection against assault from others was
necessary, to be sure, but also wasteful in either of two
circumstances. If humans would restrain themselves from
preying on others (moral principle), on the one hand, or if social
mechanisms of some sort could be put into place to provide
restraints (civil society), on the other, then individual energies
devoted to protection would become unnecessary, and that effort
could be redirected toward productive activities.
Much energy has been devoted down through the ages to creating
systems of values, both philosophical and religious, which, if
internalized, would release human resources from otherwise wasteful
protection activities. But philosophers like Hobbes have not been
terribly optimistic about this prospect. For one thing, systems of values
have, throughout human history, often come into conflict with one
another, and some contend have probably killed more people than they
have saved. Nearly all crusades, holy wars, and ideologically inspired
conquests have had at their root, a philosophical or religious foundation;
they have rarely produced anything resembling civility, much less
utopia. For another thing, humans are hard-wired with various wants
and needs that cannot always, because of scarcity, be simultaneously to
all. Scarcity thus breeds conflict. While religious principles and moral
dicta may have a partially restraining effect, many would agree that they
have been unable to produce peace on earth .
Others, therefore, have placed their bets on the creation of a
civil society (in which individuals are restrained by law and the
coercive authority of the state from taking advantage of their
fellow citizens) as the way to liberate human energy for
productive uses. A command - “Thou shalt not steal from or
otherwise prey on your neighbors” - is backed by a capacity to
detect violations and to punish violators, is what we mean here
by civil society. Hobbes named the entity with this capacity to
command, detect, and punish Leviathan, and saw it as
humankind’s solution to its problem of creating order.
There is no doubt that various aspects of civil society have come to provide order
to the lives of many people; and much of what we are doing this semester is
devoted to studying the institutions of civil society for precisely this reason. But
before we can jump ahead to our analysis of these institutions, we first need to
examine a false dichotomy that has been posed. Previously, I suggested that
problems of protection from predation - problems of order - can be solved either
by causing inidividuals to internalize peaceful attitudes and intentions in the form
of religious or moral principles, or by endowing Leviathan with the power to root
out predatory behavior and otherwise regulate social life for peaceful ends.
Might there not, however, be a third alternative? The answer is “yes.” It comes
in the form of cooperation. Cooperation may emerge and be maintained, even
though people have not internalized pacific or otherwise touchy-feely attitudes,
and even though there is not the heavy sword of Leviathan hanging over their
heads. It’s not sorcerer’s trick; it is ruthless self-interest at work (rational
behavior).
The Simplest Case: Two-Person Cooperation
Individual behavior typically involves bearing some costs in order to
secure some benefits. The student studies hard while in school to secure
a good job after graduation. The suburban homeowner devotes
weekend time and energy to her garden in the February and March in
order to enjoy its beauties in the April, May, and June. The consumer
exchanges some of his hard-earned cash for a new Porsche Carrera or a
tube of toothpaste. In each of these situations, a rational individual
weighs the benefits against the costs. The former are enjoyed
exclusively by her; the latter are borne exclusively by her. It is an
individual optimization problem for which the kind of decision theory
we’ve briefly surveyed in the first three weeks is relevant.
What about group situations in which a collection of individuals
is pursuing some objective? The burdens must be borne by
individual group members - club or association dues, effort,
investments of time, or whatever - but the benefits are often not
exclusively private. Indeed, even in some of the situations that I
indicated as “private” a moment ago may have consequences for
someone beyond the individual taking the action - for example,
the homeowner’s beautiful garden provides pleasure for the
neighbors too.
The classic illustration of a group interaction of this sort is
provided by another British philosopher, David Hume. Hume
tells the story of two farmers whose respective fields abut a
common masrhland. If the marsh is drained, common benefits
would be generated - for instance, the destruction of a mosquito
habitat. Farmer A’s individual effort in draining the marsh,
itself a burden, would produce this benefit not only for himself,
but also for Farmer B. Each farmer is certainly desirous of the
benefit, but is loathe to pay the price - especially if he cannot
count on the other guy to do all the heavy lifting!
In this circumstance, the key is what game theorists refer to as strategic
interdependence. We can analyze the situation systematically as
follows. Suppose each of Hume’s farmers value the drained marsh at 2
utils. If either were to take project on by himself, the cost to him (in
terms of the things he would have to forego to take on the bother of
doing the job) would be 3 utils. Thus, if there were only one farmer
available to take on the task, then it certainly would not be worth his
while. Suppose, however, that if each farmer worked cooperatively
with the other, then it would only cost each 1 util. In this case, each
farmer would enjoy 2 utils worth of drained marsh at a cost of but a
single util - a pretty good deal. Still, though, the best deal of all would
be for the marsh to be drained entirely by the other farmer. This can be
seen in Display 1.
Display 1. Hume’s Marsh-Draining Game*
Farmer B’s Choice
Drain Marsh
Do not drain marsh
(Cooperate)
(Do not cooperate)
Farmer A’s Choice
Drain Marsh
1, 1
-1, 2
2, -1
0,0
(Cooperate)
Do not Drain Marsh
(Do not cooperate)
*The first number in each cell is the net payoff in utils to Farmer A; the second
number is the payoff in utils to Farmer B.
If both choose to drain the marsh (top left cell), then each gets 2
utils of benefit at 1 util of cost, for a net payoff of 1 util
If neither chooses to drain (bottom right cell), then with nothing
ventured there is nothing gained: the payoff is zero.
If one farmer does all the work (either of the off-diagonal cells),
then he gets 2 utils of benefits for 3 utils of cost - a net payoff of
-1, while the non-working farmer also gets 2 utils of benefit but
at no cost - a net payoff of 2.
How would a ruggedly individual farmer (read: rational) farmer
choose?
Suppose you are Farmer A (your payoffs are the left-most
numbers in each cell).
If Farmer B chooses to drain (so we are looking at the left most
column), then you get 1 util if you drain and 2 if you do not.
If farmer B chooses not to drain (right-most column), then you
get -1 utils if you drain and 0 if you do not.
No matter what Farmer B does, you do better if you choose not
to drain!
The reasoning is precisely the same if you are Farmer B: No
matter what Farmer A does, you do better if you choose not to
drain!
From the perspective of either farmer, there is a double reason
to choose not to drain. First, you do better by choosing not to
drain not matter what your counterpart chooses to do.
Second, and perhaps more psychologically compelling (since
you never trusted your neighbor very much anyhow), precisely
because the same payoff profile holds for your counterpart he is
not likely to drain, making it clearly in your interest not to do so
either.
That is, the other guy’s incentives reinforce your own not to
drain, and vice versa ad infinitum.
Each farmer has a “dominant” strategy to be uncooperative, not because
either is mean-spirited, but because neither has an incentive to
cooperate and neither wants to be taken advantage of.
This is the paradox of cooperation.
Neither farmer lifts a finger, the mosquitos flourish so that each farmer
gets a payoff of 0, yet each could have gotten a payoff of 1 if the two
had only cooperated.
The result is that ruggedly individualistic rational behavior has
produced a state of affairs less preferred by both farmers than an
available alternative.
This is not the end of the story, though Hume’s example should be taken
seriously because it stands as a metaphor for a host of social situations
having a similar incentive profile.
(Case Studies)
Display 2. The Mafioso (Non) Dilemma*
Mafioso B’s Choice
Don’t Squeal
Squeal
(Cooperate)
(Do not cooperate)
1, 1
-1, - b
Mafioso A’s Choice
Don’t Squeal
(Cooperate)
Squeal
- b, -1
0,0
(Do not cooperate)
*The first number in each cell is the net payoff in utils to Mafioso A; the second
number is the payoff in utils to Mafioso B.The symbol b, which stands for “bad,”
is a very large number!