a look at these two in turn. First up is a popular argument for psychological egoism, namely that altruism is always merely superficial and the authentic springs of actions are invariably self-interested ones. The idea is that even people who sacrifice for others, donate to charity, feed the poor, etc. only do so because it makes them feel good about themselves, or impresses others. Nobody would help other people if they didn’t get something in return–self-satisfaction, self-esteem, community respect, higher social standing, better choice of mates. On the surface charity looks like altruism, but when we dig a little deeper we can see that it is self-interest after all. Sometimes “altruism” is obviously selfish, as in the case of someone who tithes to the church or gives alms to the poor in order to get a quick pass into heaven. No matter what you do, you get something out of it, or you wouldn’t be doing it. Which is just to say that everyone always acts in their self-interest; we just can’t help it.
Without question, sometimes people behave in psychologically egoistic ways, and apparent altruism is just virtue signaling in disguise. But does human behavior always follow this pattern? Let’s investigate what would count as evidence that at least sometimes people are genuinely altruistic, and that therefore psychological egoism is false.
Consider an act of putative self-sacrifice, in which Generous George gives away a considerable amount of money to a needy stranger. The psychological egoist is committed not only to the view that George stands to benefit in some way (for example, by feeling good about himself) but his benefit outweighs the cost of getting it. Otherwise, it is a net loss for George. Put another way, one can’t reasonably argue that Saleswoman Sarah is a smart car dealer if she keeps selling cars for less than the dealership paid for them. Losing money is not self-interested behavior. She acts in her self-interest only if she’s making a profit and selling cars for more than her company paid for them. Likewise Generous George isn’t acting in his self-interest if what he’s getting out of his charity is less valuable than the money he’s giving away.
Here, then, is a test for egoistic action: An action is egoistic only if the benefits to the giver exceed the cost of the giving. Put conversely, if the benefits to the giver are less than the value of the gift, then the action is not egoistic. Now that we know in principle how to refute psychological egoism, are there any real-life, actual cases of non-egoistic behavior? The answer is yes.
Ross McGinnis was a 19-year-old Army private from Pennsylvania serving in the Iraq War. One December day he was manning an M2 .50-caliber machine gun in the turret of a Humvee patrolling Baghdad’s Adhamiyah district. A rooftop enemy insurgent lobbed a fragmentation grenade at the Humvee, which fell through the gunner’s hatch and landed near McGinnis. He immediately yelled, “the grenade is in the truck” and threw himself on it. His quick action allowed all four members of his crew to prepare for the blast. According to the Army, “McGinnis absorbed all lethal fragments and the concussive effects of the grenade with his own body11.” He was killed instantly. His platoon sergeant later stated that McGinnis could have jumped from the Humvee to safety; instead he chose to save the lives of four other men at the sacrifice of his own. For his bravery McGinnis was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.
McGinnis certainly did not act in his own self-interest. He received no benefit at all from his heroism, and even the Medal of Honor is cold comfort to his grieving family, who would have much preferred the safe return of their son. It is an understatement to observe that the value of his gift–saving the lives of four fellow soldiers–was greater than what he got in return, which was merely death.
You might be inclined to argue that McGinnis is a rare exception, and that heroic self-sacrifice is far from the norm. Maybe psychological egoism isn’t true of every human being ever to live, but it could still be true of the vast majority. You might think that nearly everyone always acts in their own self-interest. Yet even this modified claim of predominant egoism is apparently false.
Consider child rearing. One of the most pervasive beliefs around the world is that having children will make people happy. Childless couples imagine a future filled with beautiful, successful, loving children, of cheerful holiday dinners and birthday parties at the park. Parents whose children are grown look back fondly on family traditions, vacations taken, and funny episodes of life. So parents encourage their childless friends and adult children to have kids of their own, they tell them that kids are wonderful, a blessing not to be missed. Everyone is happier with a brood. Sure, there are diapers to be changed, homework to monitor, and orthodontists to be paid, but all in all, the hard work of parenting pays back big dividends.
Recent studies have shown, however, that “children will make you happy” is a myth. In fact, children make you less happy. The family life of an average person will be a lot less happy with children than without them. Psychologists who study happiness with sophisticated surveys and tests have discovered that couples tend to start out quite happy in their marriages, but grow increasingly less happy over the course of their lives together until the children leave home. It is not until they reach “empty nest” that the parents’ marital happiness levels return to what they were pre-children. The Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert plotted the results from four different happiness studies (Figure 1.1), all of which tell the same story (Gilbert, 2005, p. 243).
Figure 1.1 Marital satisfaction.
Given the evidence that children make our home lives less happy, why does everyone insist on the opposite? In Gilbert’s view, we are all wired by evolution to deceive ourselves–and others–about how much having kids decreases our happiness. Even though studies repeatedly show that women (historically the primary care givers) are less happy taking care of their children than when eating, exercising, shopping, napping, or watching TV (Gilbert, p. 243), our subconscious minds ignore the evidence and tell us the opposite. Imagine a world in which everyone believed the truth that having kids will, on the whole, only add to your misery. Apart from accidents, people would stop having them. Failing to reproduce is the fastest way for a species to go extinct, so evolution builds in some safeguards, including self-deception about what actually makes us happy.
If the happiness researchers are right, then having and raising children is a genuine act of altruism. The benefits to the giver, in this case the parents, are less than the value of the gift, namely the gift of life and the resources to survive until adulthood. Having children is one of the most common human activities, and not a rare act of courage like that of Private McGinnis. When you decide to ignore the happiness findings and go on to have children (as most of the readers of this book will), you will be intentionally performing a pure act of altruism, in the full knowledge that you will be giving benefits to others with a net loss to your own happiness. The evidence is thus that psychological egoism is false. People routinely do not act in their own self-interest.
How about ethical egoism? Perhaps we should all be acting in our own self-interest. Earlier we proposed testing ethical theories against our most basic and ingrained intuitions about permissible actions. What are the intuitive pros and cons of ethical egoism?
On the plus side, egoism captures the idea that each human life has intrinsic merit. It allows each person to view their own life as being of ultimate value, thereby taking the importance of the human individual seriously. Any moral philosophy that requires sacrifices for others compels individuals to set their own interests aside in order to promote the welfare of people whom they may not care about. Compulsory sacrifice suggests that an individual’s life is something at the disposal of others, not something to be valued for its own sake.
More concretely, suppose that you have a grilled cheese sandwich. It’s legitimately yours–you bought it fairly with money you legally earned though your own labor. Imagine that as you leave the Cheeses Lady food truck with your lunch you see a hungry beggar. You could give him your sandwich, or you could keep walking and enjoy it yourself.
