What I dispute is that it’s a full explanation applicable to all asserted cases of akrasia. For example, it runs into these problems: If you did a gun-to-the-head test on the chain smoker and the jogger over an extended period,
the smoker would go through a kind of negative psychological stress not present in the jogger.
after a long enough time, the smoker would lose the urge to smoke, and thank the gunman[1] for having used such coercion, while the jogger would stay resentful.
ETA: the jogger would probably return to jogging thereafter, while the smoker would not return to smoking, even in private.
First, I would note that as far as I see, the above model is applicable to a much smaller range of behaviors than commonly believed. More specifically, I think the level of “withdrawal pain” is commonly greatly exaggerated for all but the most extreme physical addictions, like heroin or very extreme alcoholism. And even for these extreme cases, when the relatively brief period of physical withdrawal is bridged, the memories of past pleasures remain a constant temptation; relapses are a notorious problem in all sorts of substance abuse cases. This, I think, shows that even for true physical dependences, a large part of the motivation is seeking pleasure, not avoiding pain.
Thus, for most forms of alleged akrasia, I do think the cynical dismissal is correct even if I grant your above objections, since the pain of quitting is not so high as to be truly relevant. Smoking is a prime example, which I conclude both from my personal experience with quitting and from the apparent ease with which smokers conform to the now ubiquitous smoking bans under which many of them spend most of their waking hours. (Apparently, far lesser threats than the gun-to-the-head test are more than enough!) It definitely seems to me that non-relapsing ex-smokers are those who came to realization that the costs exceed the benefits, not those who successfully bridged a temporary withdrawal pain period.
But otherwise, yes, I grant that your above description could be accurate for some behaviors. However, someone who believes he’d benefit from quitting, but lacks the willpower to endure the withdrawal pain, can make the arrangements to be restrained during that critical period. This indeed happens when people check into rehabs. Yet in reality, bridging the painful withdrawal period is by no means a guarantee against relapse. Now, you say:
Also, it would require that we make no distinction between “this person is doing X because it is painful not to” vs. “this person is doing X because it is pleasurable”.
I accept the difference in case of a heroin addict who will pass through a few days of torment if he doesn’t shoot up, or a delirium tremens-level alcoholic. But would you classify it as avoiding pain, rather than seeking pleasure, when someone who has already passed through this painful period is tempted to re-experience the past thrills? Or when someone is “addicted” to a drug that has no physical withdrawal symptoms (according to the standard terminology)? Or when someone feels that work is intolerably tedious and can’t refrain from procrastinating? Where exactly do you draw that line?
Furthermore, it’s highly probable that people dislike the impacts of e.g. smoking/drugs on them, above and beyond the social disapproval it brings on them, especially when e.g. it takes a smoker 20 cigarettes to get a minor buzz.
Of course—but the question is whether the benefit is worth the cost. I don’t think it’s necessarily irrational to accept lower life expectancy and a certain level of damage to one’s present health in exchange for something that makes life more pleasant, or at least less tedious and nerve-wracking. And regardless of one’s true motivations, pleading addiction can be a successful way to reduce the social disapproval. (By the way, smoking isn’t about buzz, which you stop getting very soon. But I’d rather not start elaborating on that topic...)
Because this exchange is getting complex, and because of the lopsided votes, and because of the lack of involvement of others, I’m going to wait for others to comment on our exchange or for our comments to receive more moderations before replying, just as a “sanity check” that we’re making progress in our disagreement.
I think you’re righter than Vladimir_M, but some Rationalists’ Taboo would be useful. “Preference.” Can both of you formulate your views without using that word? And “akrasia”.
To me, the obvious distinction between the joyful jogger and the frustrated smoker is that the smoker has a conflict and the jogger does not. The smoker has both a goal of smoking and a goal of not smoking, and the processes for achieving these goals are fighting each other. It is impossible for both goals to be fulfilled, and as long as both processes are active, dissatisfaction will result. The jogger has a coherent set of motivations for a single goal.
The issue of signalling is a red herring. The smoker can be just as frustrated if no-one but himself knows of his struggle, and the jogger just as joyful if no-one ever sees him going for his 5am run. St. Augustine had his struggles before ever writing about them. Imputing signalling behaviour always sounds to me like just whining.
Thanks for your input, and I agree with your distinction along the lines of conflicting preferences.
I believe I already have implicitly formulated my views with a taboo on akrasia and preference. In my last substantive reply, I basically said that there are two kinds of phenomena going on, as seen by several significant differences, justifying a different term for each one (because they occupy such different clumps of conceptspace). And whatever those terms are, some contexts certainly do justify distinguishing between the two.
The specific differences I stated are that one would involve “retroactive consent” while the other wouldn’t; a long-term period of coerced abstinence would induce psychological stress in one but not the other, and it would permanently alter the target’s behavior in one case but not the other.
Preference, akrasia, whatever. Two different things are going on, warranting different actions in response.
Yes, people lie about addiction for sympathy. A lot. But that doesn’t make it all a scam.
Unfortunately, I’ll be too busy to write anything more than this comment until (at least) tomorrow, and the discussion is indeed getting complex and buried ever deeper into the comment thread, so I’m not sure if we’ll be able to continue. But in any case, I think it’s been a worthwhile exchange, and it has made me rethink my positions on these issues. As a final observation, I’ll just briefly address this comment of yours:
In my last substantive reply, I basically said that there are two kinds of phenomena going on, as seen by several significant differences, justifying a different term for each one (because they occupy such different clumps of conceptspace). And whatever those terms are, some contexts certainly do justify distinguishing between the two.
I agree with this, and in retrospect, I see that due to my own hasty writing and lack of clarity, my comments could have been read as denying this distinction altogether, which was not my intention. Therefore, I think our true disagreement has been about: (1) how widely your “smoker vs. jogger” model is applicable in practice (and in particular, whether it is applicable to typical smokers who plead addiction), and (2) how widely the signaling explanation is applicable instead (i.e. the case where one falsely pleads one’s supposed inability to suffer the withdrawal pains to gain the more respectable victim/sufferer status instead of being condemned for practicing vice willingly).
Maybe my impressions in this regard are biased, perhaps by my personal experiences. For all I know, I might be an atypical individual in this regard; but then, from many anecdotal observations, I have the impression that people around me have often played the above described signaling game, to the point where I see it as a general rule. So at the end, we can probably settle for an empirical disagreement whose resolution would require detailed discussions of a large, representative set of concrete situations, to see how far these alternative explanations are applicable in practice.
It looks like there is indeed quite of bit of overlap between our views. I haven’t had much experience with people using the “addiction” excuse, but I recommend you approach the topic using a broader definition, as I do in this blog post (which I think you’ll enjoy).
Instead of looking at it from the perspective of, “Is this person just making some excuse so they can get away with irresponsibly continuing the addictive behavior?”, look at it from the perspective of, “Does this person get strong urges to do something they know is bad for them, enjoy doing it, but also wish they didn’t get those urges?” And then ask if that’s a very special kind of “preference” (though I think you already agree now).
Excerpt from the blog (emphasis added):
You all know about how society regards certain products as dangerous, … because they are addictive. … Yet I have never been able to get addicted (or near addicted—I’m not going by the rigorous psychological definition here) to such products. …
While I have tried cigarettes before, … beyond the threshold that makes people yearn for a cigarette, I feel no desire whatsoever to smoke. … Now, here’s the kicker: I do get powerful, near-addiction urges to e.g. post on internet forums, eat ice cream/milkshakes (YUM!), play certain video games, and other things I can remember. But EVERY one of those things for which I do get urges … is completely legal!
And again, I believe the addiction excuse is heavily overused; I just don’t think that resolves the akrasia issue.
First, I would note that as far as I see, the above model is applicable to a much smaller range of behaviors than commonly believed. More specifically, I think the level of “withdrawal pain” is commonly greatly exaggerated for all but the most extreme physical addictions, like heroin or very extreme alcoholism. And even for these extreme cases, when the relatively brief period of physical withdrawal is bridged, the memories of past pleasures remain a constant temptation; relapses are a notorious problem in all sorts of substance abuse cases. This, I think, shows that even for true physical dependences, a large part of the motivation is seeking pleasure, not avoiding pain.
Thus, for most forms of alleged akrasia, I do think the cynical dismissal is correct even if I grant your above objections, since the pain of quitting is not so high as to be truly relevant. Smoking is a prime example, which I conclude both from my personal experience with quitting and from the apparent ease with which smokers conform to the now ubiquitous smoking bans under which many of them spend most of their waking hours. (Apparently, far lesser threats than the gun-to-the-head test are more than enough!) It definitely seems to me that non-relapsing ex-smokers are those who came to realization that the costs exceed the benefits, not those who successfully bridged a temporary withdrawal pain period.
But otherwise, yes, I grant that your above description could be accurate for some behaviors. However, someone who believes he’d benefit from quitting, but lacks the willpower to endure the withdrawal pain, can make the arrangements to be restrained during that critical period. This indeed happens when people check into rehabs. Yet in reality, bridging the painful withdrawal period is by no means a guarantee against relapse. Now, you say:
I accept the difference in case of a heroin addict who will pass through a few days of torment if he doesn’t shoot up, or a delirium tremens-level alcoholic. But would you classify it as avoiding pain, rather than seeking pleasure, when someone who has already passed through this painful period is tempted to re-experience the past thrills? Or when someone is “addicted” to a drug that has no physical withdrawal symptoms (according to the standard terminology)? Or when someone feels that work is intolerably tedious and can’t refrain from procrastinating? Where exactly do you draw that line?
Of course—but the question is whether the benefit is worth the cost. I don’t think it’s necessarily irrational to accept lower life expectancy and a certain level of damage to one’s present health in exchange for something that makes life more pleasant, or at least less tedious and nerve-wracking. And regardless of one’s true motivations, pleading addiction can be a successful way to reduce the social disapproval. (By the way, smoking isn’t about buzz, which you stop getting very soon. But I’d rather not start elaborating on that topic...)
Because this exchange is getting complex, and because of the lopsided votes, and because of the lack of involvement of others, I’m going to wait for others to comment on our exchange or for our comments to receive more moderations before replying, just as a “sanity check” that we’re making progress in our disagreement.
(Pardon the long sentence.)
I think you’re righter than Vladimir_M, but some Rationalists’ Taboo would be useful. “Preference.” Can both of you formulate your views without using that word? And “akrasia”.
To me, the obvious distinction between the joyful jogger and the frustrated smoker is that the smoker has a conflict and the jogger does not. The smoker has both a goal of smoking and a goal of not smoking, and the processes for achieving these goals are fighting each other. It is impossible for both goals to be fulfilled, and as long as both processes are active, dissatisfaction will result. The jogger has a coherent set of motivations for a single goal.
The issue of signalling is a red herring. The smoker can be just as frustrated if no-one but himself knows of his struggle, and the jogger just as joyful if no-one ever sees him going for his 5am run. St. Augustine had his struggles before ever writing about them. Imputing signalling behaviour always sounds to me like just whining.
Thanks for your input, and I agree with your distinction along the lines of conflicting preferences.
I believe I already have implicitly formulated my views with a taboo on akrasia and preference. In my last substantive reply, I basically said that there are two kinds of phenomena going on, as seen by several significant differences, justifying a different term for each one (because they occupy such different clumps of conceptspace). And whatever those terms are, some contexts certainly do justify distinguishing between the two.
The specific differences I stated are that one would involve “retroactive consent” while the other wouldn’t; a long-term period of coerced abstinence would induce psychological stress in one but not the other, and it would permanently alter the target’s behavior in one case but not the other.
Preference, akrasia, whatever. Two different things are going on, warranting different actions in response.
Yes, people lie about addiction for sympathy. A lot. But that doesn’t make it all a scam.
Unfortunately, I’ll be too busy to write anything more than this comment until (at least) tomorrow, and the discussion is indeed getting complex and buried ever deeper into the comment thread, so I’m not sure if we’ll be able to continue. But in any case, I think it’s been a worthwhile exchange, and it has made me rethink my positions on these issues. As a final observation, I’ll just briefly address this comment of yours:
I agree with this, and in retrospect, I see that due to my own hasty writing and lack of clarity, my comments could have been read as denying this distinction altogether, which was not my intention. Therefore, I think our true disagreement has been about: (1) how widely your “smoker vs. jogger” model is applicable in practice (and in particular, whether it is applicable to typical smokers who plead addiction), and (2) how widely the signaling explanation is applicable instead (i.e. the case where one falsely pleads one’s supposed inability to suffer the withdrawal pains to gain the more respectable victim/sufferer status instead of being condemned for practicing vice willingly).
Maybe my impressions in this regard are biased, perhaps by my personal experiences. For all I know, I might be an atypical individual in this regard; but then, from many anecdotal observations, I have the impression that people around me have often played the above described signaling game, to the point where I see it as a general rule. So at the end, we can probably settle for an empirical disagreement whose resolution would require detailed discussions of a large, representative set of concrete situations, to see how far these alternative explanations are applicable in practice.
It looks like there is indeed quite of bit of overlap between our views. I haven’t had much experience with people using the “addiction” excuse, but I recommend you approach the topic using a broader definition, as I do in this blog post (which I think you’ll enjoy).
Instead of looking at it from the perspective of, “Is this person just making some excuse so they can get away with irresponsibly continuing the addictive behavior?”, look at it from the perspective of, “Does this person get strong urges to do something they know is bad for them, enjoy doing it, but also wish they didn’t get those urges?” And then ask if that’s a very special kind of “preference” (though I think you already agree now).
Excerpt from the blog (emphasis added):
And again, I believe the addiction excuse is heavily overused; I just don’t think that resolves the akrasia issue.
Thanks for the link! I just posted a reply at your blog.
Thanks for the comment. I posted a reply with a link to another LW thread you might find interesting.