In many game theory experiments, much of the idea hinges on a single, important detail, but isn’t always factored in. Reliance on the idea that the game is as stated.
Let’s use the prisoner’s dilemma for an example. If you aren’t familiar with this, it is a thought experiment that goes like this:
Two people are arrested for a crime they committed (the existence of guilt is important). The two are held in separate rooms for questioning by the police. They are given a choice: Cooperate with or betray their partner in crime. If both parties cooperate and stay silent, they both receive a minor sentence (1 year in prison). If one cooperates with thier partner and stays silent, but the other betrays their partner, the one who betrays the other gets out with no punishment, and the one who stayed silent gets the maximum penalty (5 years in prison). If they both betray the other, they each receive a moderate sentence (3 years in prison).
In my book, I use another example to highlight how we often do not have a great choice, just the least worst one. It goes like this:
Someone has a gun to your head and hands you a 6-shot revolver with one bullet in it, and they instruct you to play one round of Russian Roulette, and they will set you free; otherwise, they will shoot you with a 100% chance that there is a bullet.
In both these instances, the entire thought experiment hinges on one critical piece of information: Will the captors actually stay true to their word and honor the rules of the game they are forcing the participants to play? This is the real dilemma. If you have trust in your captors, then the odds are laid out in front of you. You can relatively predict the outcome and are likely more willing to accept the outcome as fair (or as fair as these things can be).
I don’t think that I need to provide mounds of evidence to say with conviction that institutional trust is at a real low point. So many pieces of the social contract have been broken that no one can trust anyone without some sort of protection and proof.
Take the job market, for instance. There was a time (maybe before Gen Z entered the market) when we could assume that the jobs we were applying to were real, and if we were qualified, we had an honest shot at landing them. The unemployment rate gave everyone a real inclination of their bargaining power, and people were hired and got work done.
Today, unemployment is climbing, yet the actual numbers are no longer representative of reality. When you look for a job, you know to start with the knowledge that as much as one-third of posted jobs are ghost jobs and about a quarter of applicant profiles are fake, yet flooding in. Furthermore, another one in three job seekers admits to being targeted by scams. This means that everyone is wary of the other party in a process that requires a lot of trust. That is all before anyone is hired and the exploitation of the employer/employee relationship begins.
With the previous social contracts that lean on trust and mutual benefit breaking down, it inserts an undertone into every relationship that undermines real progress. If those contracts are in place or can be expected to be upheld, everyone has to take a defensive or even deceitful stance simply to protect themselves and their expectations.
Trust in the future
Whether it is a new job or a hostage situation, we have to have not only trust in the rules of engagement but also some faith in the future. We need faith that the future exists, for starters, but also that it is a future worth existing in. This futuresight is becoming extremely murky in a media landscape that has gone all in on apocalyptic narratives.
Nowhere, for me at least, is this narrative so prevalent as in the discussions of children. Children are the ultimate bet on the future. Those who have children are literally creating life that will carry on beyond their days on this earth. That and every parent wants a better life for their children than they had. This is the embodiment of faith in the future, not just that the world will be here after we are gone, but it is worth continuing through our beloved children. Yet, one very common comment heard by those opting not to have children and those who are genuinely grappling with the idea of parenthood is that it may be cruel to bring new life into this world as it is today.
Now, everyone is entitled to their own opinions and fears, and if you have an extremely bleak outlook on humanity, that line of thinking is logical. Still, the fact that it is not an uncommon train of thought is more telling than the individual conviction itself. Again, the social contract is in tatters as we are watching the first sets of generations in recent memory that are not set up to do better than their parents by many metrics.
Another uncomfortable thought experiment around this came from a conversation I had about the Trolley Problem, where we had to choose to kill one person to save five. This other person asked if there were children, families, or old people. Just the consideration of age in such an experiment implies that we might offer preference to unrealized potential or even innocence in choosing who lives.
So I will ask, in a hostage situation, would you give up your life to save the life of a child?
There are surely some questions that come to mind about what life looks like after. In a hostage situation, can you secure a guarantee that the child will be safely released? Can you be sure that they will have a chance to live a good and full life? If you choose your life over theirs, would you be allowed freedom and safety, and could you justify it if you did? There is no way of knowing, but you have to choose. You have to trust in your captors.
Not only do you have to trust that the game is not rigged or some cruel joke. You have to trust in the future that you are choosing, with no looking back.
We Are All Prisoners Of Some Sort
I don’t believe absolute freedom exists. We are free to choose between options, but never free from consequences or even circumstances. In this thinking, the ultimate choice is choosing what masters we serve.
Some we get little say in: parents, governments, oligarchs, gods. In some, we have a bit of choice: partners, where we live, employers, and religions. Then there are some that we choose completely: beliefs, desires, morals, and goals.
We all serve something a little bigger than ourselves, and those masters, if you will, dictate many of the rules we are forced to live by, our opportunities, our options, and even some of our outcomes. So what if we don’t trust those we serve? What if we can’t trust the games we are forced to play? What if we can see that the odds are rigged against us?
Well, that sort of distrust has a way of spreading and compounding. If we act against others that we simply don’t believe we can trust, regardless of the validity of that claim, then we will likewise act in a way that calls for distrust in us. The only option that leaves us is to lead with trust and demand fairness.
Leading with trust is not easy and is certainly not naive. It comes from a place of confidence where you can say no and truly mean it. That means that you must have trust in your own ability to walk away. That does not just happen; it is built. If you want to tell your boss no when they make a ridiculous request, you must have the means and willingness to get fired or quit; otherwise, your protest is hollow. Leading with trust means that you can calculate potential negative outcomes if the other party betrays you, and you can absorb whatever losses you incur. Trust shouldn’t be from a point of no other option, but a conscious and calculated choice to allow others to work with you and be ok if they don’t. “Talk softly and carry a big stick,” as it’s said.
This confident trust means that we can call out injustice when it arises in front of us. I don’t mean injustice you see all over the world, terrible as it is; we can’t cure it all. I mean the kind of injustice right in front of you. Someone taking advantage of another in your presence, in-the-moment abuse, or exploitation. Insulating yourself from some of the pushback that can come in the form of temporary instability makes you a force in this world. It gives weight to your voice and imposes a sort of responsibility that makes it impossible for you to stand idly by when you are faced with a bad situation you can influence for the better.
Making sure these masters you choose to serve are in check is critical. Money is a master that we choose, which can be particularly influential and downright oppressive if we do not keep it in line. We all need money and are slaves to it to some extent. It is essentially impossible to live outside the monetary system. Taxes, shelter, utilities, food, and other truly essential services require us to have some amount of financial means. So I wouldn’t say that we escape the master that is the economy. However, we do control our needs, how much above the bare minimum we need.
Our lifestyles are often the most oppressive influence we have, and to a great extent, choose implicitly. The bigger house, better car, and constant streams of small luxuries set baselines high. When the unexpected happens, these financial commitments become extreme liabilities if you are not able to scale back expenses. They can force you into desperate circumstances. The fear of those circumstances alone can stifle your voice. If doing the right thing or speaking up means you could lose your means of paying these bills, you won’t; indirectly choosing your luxuries over justice. If enough people like this, lots of bad things can happen and go unchecked. That is where the distrust can be crippling. We don’t know if we will face repercussions, but we don’t want to test it. We don’t trust that the system seeks or even tolerates the good and just.
The most dangerous person in any abusive system is the one who isn’t reliant on it. In a bad relationship, it’s the person who can easily walk away without remorse. In a bad job, it’s the person who can quit without worrying about securing another job first. In a political system, it is the people who don’t need someone to tell them how to think and conduct themselves properly for the good of all people.
A Healthy Distrust
Lead with trust and demand fairness. We should feel a bit uncomfortable as we lose control of our own outcomes, so try to maintain some level of control at all times. We should also feel compelled to act when we are faced with wrongs that we can help right. We cannot let our distrust in the entire system cripple us from making the impact that we are able to make.
In the example from my book, where you are forced to play Russian Roulette, the highest probability of survival, assuming the game is fair, is to simply play the game. We often don’t have a good option available to choose; we just have to play the hand we are dealt and accept the odds. We don’t have a say in the rules; they aren’t fair, but they have consequences for not following them. The only defense we have is to manufacture our own options, set ourselves up as best we can to have at least one option that is on our own terms.
The same choices that help us manage our options and mitigate risk are the very same ones that help make the game just a little more fair. Insisting on playing by the rules won’t guarantee that someone won’t beat you by cheating, but it does increase the likelihood that they will play a little more honestly. Moreso, the moral high ground creates a much better view of the podium filled with cheaters. Playground rules to live by.
It’s hard, but we have to try and maintain some trust. Trust in ourselves, the system, and maybe most importantly, trust in our future. That trust takes conscious effort when we are faced with so many reasons to harbor and lead with distrust. It is hard because we see the cheaters winning in material ways, accumulating wealth and power while making things worse for everyone else. It seems so easy to take the easy and profitable path, even when it means playing unfairly, but just as they say, two wrongs don’t make a right; playing unfairly doesn’t create a better game. It is a race to the bottom.
Keep the faith, play the game, do the best we can. We have to trust our captors to some extent, so try to keep them small so they can’t do too much damage.