Once there was a miser, who to save money would eat nothing but oatmeal. And what’s more, he would make a great big batch of it at the start of every week, and put it in a drawer, and when he wanted a meal he would slice off a piece and eat it cold; thus he saved on firewood. Now, by the end of the week, the oatmeal would be somewhat moldy and not very appetising; and so to make himself eat it, the miser would take out a bottle of good whiskey, and pour himself a glass, and say “All right, Olai, eat your oatmeal and when you’re done, you can have a dram.” Then he would eat his moldy oatmeal, and when he was done he’d laugh and pour the whiskey back in the bottle, and say “Hah! And you believed that? There’s one born every minute, to be sure!” And thus he had a great savings in whiskey as well.
I don’t understand this rationality quote. Is it about fighting akrasia? Self-hacking to effectively saving money? It clearly describes a method that wouldn’t actually work, and it could work as humour, but what does it mean as a rationality tale?
Quote from Garrison Keillor’s book Lake Wobegon Days:
Every Advent we entered the purgatory of lutefisk, a repulsive gelatinous fishlike dish that tasted of soap and gave off an odor that would gag a goat. We did this in honor of Norwegian ancestors, much as if survivors of a famine might celebrate their deliverance by feasting on elm bark. I always felt the cold creeps as Advent approached, knowing that this dread delicacy would be put before me and I’d be told, “Just have a little.” Eating a little was like vomiting a little, just as bad as a lot.
Quote from Garrison Keillor’s book Pontoon:
Lutefisk is cod that has been dried in a lye solution. It looks like the desiccated cadavers of squirrels run over by trucks, but after it is soaked and reconstituted and the lye is washed out and it’s cooked, it looks more fish-related, though with lutefisk, the window of success is small. It can be tasty, but the statistics aren’t on your side. It is the hereditary delicacy of Swedes and Norwegians who serve it around the holidays, in memory of their ancestors, who ate it because they were poor. Most lutefisk is not edible by normal people. It is reminiscent of the afterbirth of a dog or the world’s largest chunk of phlegm.
Interview with Jeffrey Steingarten, author of The Man Who Ate Everything (translated quote from a 1999 article in Norwegian newspaper Dagbladet):
Lutefisk is not food, it is a weapon of mass destruction. It is currently the only exception for the man who ate everything. Otherwise, I am fairly liberal, I gladly eat worms and insects, but I draw the line on lutefisk.
the above is from Wikipedia entry on lutefisk. Believe it or not.
I sometimes find that telling my Inner Lazy that it can decide—after I’ve done the first one—between whether to continue a series of tasks or to stop and be Lazy gets me to do the whole series of tasks. Despite having noticed explicitly that in practice this ‘decision delay strategy’ leads to the whole series getting done, it still works, and rather seems like tricking my Inner Lazy to transition into/hand the reins over to into my Inner Agent.
Did it once, binge-ate the candy a few hours later, bought more candy, binge-ate it again. Trying again in two weeks (or going to the doctor if still prone to binging).
I took it to be about the hidden complexity of wishes: people often say they want to have more money left at the end of the month when what they actually mean is that they want to have more money left at the end of the month without making themselves miserable in the process, and the easiest solution to the former needn’t be at all a solution to the latter.
I don’t understand this rationality quote. Is it about fighting akrasia? Self-hacking to effectively saving money? It clearly describes a method that wouldn’t actually work, and it could work as humour, but what does it mean as a rationality tale?
It could be used as an effective “How to create an Ugh Field and undermine all future self-discipline attempts” instruction manual. It isn’t a rationality tale. It is confusing that 40 people evidently consider it to be one. (But only a little bit confusing. I usually expect non-rationalist quotes that would be accepted as jokes or inspirational quotes elsewhere to get around 10 upvotes in this thread regardless of merit. That means I’m surprised about the degree of positive reception.)
The miser knows each time he will not get the reward, and that he will save on food and drink. That is the real reward, and the rest is a kabuki play he puts on for less-important impulses, to temporarily allow him to restrain them in service of his larger goal. The end pleasure of savings will provide strong positive reinforcement.
This could probably be empirically tested, to see if it is true and would work as a technique. I can imagine a test where someone is promised candy, and anticipates it while acting to fulfill a task, and then is rewarded instead with a dollar. Do they learn disappointment, or does the greater pleasure of money outweigh the candy? This is predicated on the idea that they would prefer the money, of course—you would need to tinker with amounts before the experiment might give useful results.
I can imagine a test where someone is promised candy, and anticipates it while acting to fulfill a task, and then is rewarded instead with a dollar. Do they learn disappointment, or does the greater pleasure of money outweigh the candy?
This could probably be empirically tested, to see if it is true and would work as a technique. I can imagine a test where someone is promised candy, and anticipates it while acting to fulfill a task, and then is rewarded instead with a dollar.
That is not the same thing as the quote. Empirically testing your candy and dollars reward switch would tell us next to nothing about the typical efficacy of the dubious self deception of the miser.
You are telling me I am wrong, but it is not helpful to me unless you explain why I am wrong.
I thought it made sense. As far as I could tell, the original parable has a miser with two desires: the desire for delicious booze and the desire to save money. The latter desire is by far the more important one to him, so he “fools” his desire for booze by promising himself a booze reward, and then reneging on himself each time. In my interpretation, this still results in an overall positive effect for self-discipline, because the happiness of saving money is so much more important to the miser than the disappointment of missing the booze reward.
The truth of whether this would actually work could be seen in an experiment. I tried to think of one with two rewards that satisfy different desires, and tried to think of a way to slightly disappoint the desire for sugar while strongly rewarding the impulse for money, after the completion of the task. Maybe I should specify that people should be hungry before the task, and tested in the future when they are hungry, to see if they are still willing to complete the task?
create an Ugh Field and undermine all future self-discipline attempts
That’s one way it could play out. It feels like this thinking also allows for it to work, because one might feel good about what got done by means of the trick, which would positively reinforce being tricked. I think the matter isn’t clear cut.
It’s interesting to view this story from source-code-swap Prisoner’s Dilemma / Timeless Decision Theory perspective. This can be a perfect epigraph in an article dedicated to it.
-- Norwegian folktale.
I don’t understand this rationality quote. Is it about fighting akrasia? Self-hacking to effectively saving money? It clearly describes a method that wouldn’t actually work, and it could work as humour, but what does it mean as a rationality tale?
It’s a cautionary tale about Norwegian food.
It explains lutefisk.
the above is from Wikipedia entry on lutefisk. Believe it or not.
Obviously, that’s why they were all above average!
No, seriously, lutefisk is peasant food. Rich urban types eat smalahovve.
Betcha it’d work. I’m going to set a piece of candy in front of me, work for half an hour, and then put it back, at least once a day for a week.
I sometimes find that telling my Inner Lazy that it can decide—after I’ve done the first one—between whether to continue a series of tasks or to stop and be Lazy gets me to do the whole series of tasks. Despite having noticed explicitly that in practice this ‘decision delay strategy’ leads to the whole series getting done, it still works, and rather seems like tricking my Inner Lazy to transition into/hand the reins over to into my Inner Agent.
Accountability check!
Did you do it? How’d it go?
Did it once, binge-ate the candy a few hours later, bought more candy, binge-ate it again. Trying again in two weeks (or going to the doctor if still prone to binging).
Oh, bother. I wish I’d seen this earlier.
In the context of LW, I took it as an amusing critique of the whole idea of rewarding yourself for behaviours you want to do more .
It’s either a cautionary tale about the dangers of deceiving yourself, or a humorous look at the impossibility of actually doing so.
I took it to be about the hidden complexity of wishes: people often say they want to have more money left at the end of the month when what they actually mean is that they want to have more money left at the end of the month without making themselves miserable in the process, and the easiest solution to the former needn’t be at all a solution to the latter.
It could be used as an effective “How to create an Ugh Field and undermine all future self-discipline attempts” instruction manual. It isn’t a rationality tale. It is confusing that 40 people evidently consider it to be one. (But only a little bit confusing. I usually expect non-rationalist quotes that would be accepted as jokes or inspirational quotes elsewhere to get around 10 upvotes in this thread regardless of merit. That means I’m surprised about the degree of positive reception.)
I don’t think you are correct.
The miser knows each time he will not get the reward, and that he will save on food and drink. That is the real reward, and the rest is a kabuki play he puts on for less-important impulses, to temporarily allow him to restrain them in service of his larger goal. The end pleasure of savings will provide strong positive reinforcement.
This could probably be empirically tested, to see if it is true and would work as a technique. I can imagine a test where someone is promised candy, and anticipates it while acting to fulfill a task, and then is rewarded instead with a dollar. Do they learn disappointment, or does the greater pleasure of money outweigh the candy? This is predicated on the idea that they would prefer the money, of course—you would need to tinker with amounts before the experiment might give useful results.
Also, don’t forget his pleasure at successfully tricking himself. ;-)
Myself, I’d just spend the dollar on candy.
That is not the same thing as the quote. Empirically testing your candy and dollars reward switch would tell us next to nothing about the typical efficacy of the dubious self deception of the miser.
You are telling me I am wrong, but it is not helpful to me unless you explain why I am wrong.
I thought it made sense. As far as I could tell, the original parable has a miser with two desires: the desire for delicious booze and the desire to save money. The latter desire is by far the more important one to him, so he “fools” his desire for booze by promising himself a booze reward, and then reneging on himself each time. In my interpretation, this still results in an overall positive effect for self-discipline, because the happiness of saving money is so much more important to the miser than the disappointment of missing the booze reward.
The truth of whether this would actually work could be seen in an experiment. I tried to think of one with two rewards that satisfy different desires, and tried to think of a way to slightly disappoint the desire for sugar while strongly rewarding the impulse for money, after the completion of the task. Maybe I should specify that people should be hungry before the task, and tested in the future when they are hungry, to see if they are still willing to complete the task?
That’s one way it could play out. It feels like this thinking also allows for it to work, because one might feel good about what got done by means of the trick, which would positively reinforce being tricked. I think the matter isn’t clear cut.
It’s interesting to view this story from source-code-swap Prisoner’s Dilemma / Timeless Decision Theory perspective. This can be a perfect epigraph in an article dedicated to it.
I thought the way he deceived his conscious mind, and never learned, was interesting.