Incentives of Individualism

There are some childhood studies that offer a useful insight about human nature and society. They indicate certain behaviors that appear to be inherited, rather than learned.

The specific behaviors are a natural response to be helpful and cooperative. Kids, when presented with an opportunity, want to open the door for someone with their hands full or to pick up an object someone drops. They don’t need to be told to do this. This is basic social behavior, without which early societies would never have formed.

These studies, however, demonstrated something even more telling about our present society. If you give kids a reward for good behavior, it actually ends up disincentivizing good behavior. Yet the belief in incentives is the basis of our entire capitalist society. Selfish individuals aren’t born. They are created. It is inevitable that strong communities, civic society, and culture of trust weakens as capitalism takes over more and more aspects of life.

That gave me an insight. There are various theories, Julian Jayne’s bicameralism being the most famous, that individualism as we know it didn’t always exist. What if the development of systems of incentives was a major factor in creating individuals.

This would have been a slow process. Monetary systems were developed in the ancient world. But at that time they would have had little use to the average person. And it was limited to only a few societies. Most of daily living for most people in most societies would still have involved the even more ancient traditions of gift economy and/or barter. It wasn’t until after the collapse of bicameralism (or however one wishes to explain that transition) that monetary systems became more central. It was centuries into the post-bicameral Axial Age before coins began to be minted.

Like writing, the early monetary systems would only have initially and directly effected a small number of people. Think how long it took from the invention of writing to when the majority of most societies were literate, two to three millennia. Barter was the main economic system in some American communities well into the twentieth century. It was in the major cities where these kinds of things took hold first and even there it developed first among the upper classes. Writing and currency did co-develop to some extent, as writing was earliest used for purposes of accounting. And accounting would in ancient societies would only have been a concern for governments and the elite of large-scale business owners and traders.

The trader, in particular, would have been in a position to develop individualistic behavior the earliest. Traders not only dealt most directly with the developing monetary systems, along with writing and accounting, but they also were the people who spent the most time outside of their home communities. This was at a time when most people spent their entire life never leaving the community into which they were born.

So, if my hypothesis is correct, this is where we would want to look for the initial developments of individualism. It’s also in the modern world among businessmen, stockbrokers, etc where we’d want to look for the most extreme behaviors of individualism.

It might be interesting to anthropologically study business management schools and corporations to see how they help further individualize people. Then we might want to consider what happens when a society becomes so individualistic that the social bonds that hold society together begin to fray, as we are now seeing.

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2 thoughts on “Incentives of Individualism

  1. https://teethfeetandfingers.wordpress.com/2018/05/14/mind-on-my-money-money-on-my-mind/

    It is no accident that ancient Greece, the place where symbolic money originated, also gave birth to the modern conception of the individual, to the notions of logic and reason, and to the philosophical underpinnings of the modern mind. In his scholarly masterpiece Money and the Ancient Greek Mind, classics professor Richard Seaford explores the impact of money on Greek society and thought, illuminating the characteristics that make money unique. Among them are that it is both concrete and abstract, that it is homogeneous, impersonal, a universal aim, and a universal means, and that it is unlimited. The entrance of this new, unique power into the world had profound consequences, many of which are now so deeply woven into our beliefs and culture, psyche and society, that we can barely perceive them, let alone question them.

    Money is homogeneous in that regardless of any physical differences among coins, coins qua money are identical (if they are of the same denomination). New or old, worn or smooth, all one drachma coins are equal. This was something new in the sixth century BCE. Whereas in archaic times, Seaford observes, power was conferred by unique talismanic objects (e.g., a scepter said to be handed down from Zeus), money is the opposite: its power is conferred by a standard sign that wipes out variations in purity and weight. Quality is not important, only quantity. Because money is convertible into all other things, it infects them with the same feature, turning them into commodities— objects that, as long as they meet certain criteria, are seen as identical. All that matters is how many or how much. Money, says Seaford, “promotes a sense of homogeneity among things in general.” All things are equal, because they can be sold for money, which can in turn be used to buy any other thing.

    In the commodity world, things are equal to the money that can replace them. Their primary attribute is their “value”—an abstraction. I feel a distancing, a letdown, in the phrase, “You can always buy another one.” Can you see how this promotes an anti-materialism, a detachment from the physical world in which each person, place, and thing is special, unique? No wonder Greek philosophers of this era began elevating the abstract over the real, culminating in Plato’s invention of a world of perfect forms more real than the world of the senses. No wonder to this day we treat the physical world so cavalierly. No wonder, after two thousand years’ immersion in the mentality of money, we have become so used to the replaceability of all things that we behave as if we could, if we wrecked the planet, simply buy a new one.

    I named this chapter “Money and the Mind.” Very much like the fiduciary value of money, mind is an abstraction riding a physical vehicle. Like monetary fiduciarity, the idea of mind as a separate, non-material essence of being developed over thousands of years, leading to the modern concept of an immaterial consciousness, a disembodied spirit. Tellingly, in both secular and religious thought, this abstraction has become more important than the physical vehicle, just as the “value” of a thing is more important than its physical attributes.

    One manifestation of this spirit-matter split that gives primacy to the former is the idea, “Sure, economic reform is a worthy cause, but what is much more important is a transformation of human consciousness.” I think this view is mistaken, for it is based on a false dichotomy of consciousness and action, and ultimately of spirit and matter. On a deep level, money and consciousness are intertwined. Each is bound up in the other.

    The development of monetary abstraction fits into a vast meta-historical context. Money could not have developed without a foundation of abstraction in the form of words and numbers. Already, number and label distance us from the real world and prime our minds to think abstractly. To use a noun already implies an identity among the many things so named; to say there are five of a thing makes each a unit. We begin to think of objects as representatives of a category, and not unique beings in themselves. So, while standard, generic categories didn’t begin with money, money vastly accelerated their conceptual dominance. Moreover, the homogeneity of money accompanied the rapid development of standardized commodity goods for trade. Such standardization was crude in pre-industrial times, but today manufactured objects are so nearly identical as to make the lie of money into the truth.

    Money as a universal aim is embedded in our language. We speak of “capitalizing” on our ideas and use “gratuitous,” which literally means received with thanks (and not payment), as a synonym for unnecessary. It is embedded in economics to be sure, in the assumption that human beings seek to maximize a self-interest that is equivalent to money. It is even embedded in science, where it is a cipher for reproductive self-interest. Here, too, the notion of a universal aim has taken hold.

    That there is even such a thing as a universal aim to life (be it money or something else) is not at all obvious. This idea apparently arose at about the same time money did; perhaps it was money that suggested it to philosophers. Socrates used a money metaphor explicitly in proposing intelligence as universal aim: “There is only one right currency for which we ought to exchange all these other things [pleasures and pains]—intelligence.” In religion this corresponds to the pursuit of an ultimate aim, such as salvation or enlightenment, from which all other good things flow. How like the unlimited aim of money! I wonder what the effect would be on our spirituality if we gave up on the pursuit of a unitary, abstract goal that we believe to be the key to everything else. How would it feel to release the endless campaign to improve ourselves, to make progress toward a goal? What would it be like just to play instead, just to be? Like wealth, enlightenment is a goal that knows no limit, and in both cases the pursuit of it can enslave. In both cases, I think that the object of the pursuit is a spurious substitute for a diversity of things that people really want.

    In a fully monetized society, in which nearly everything is a good or a service, money converts the multiplicity of the world into a unity, a “single thing that is the measure of, and exchangeable with, almost anything else.” The apeiron, the logos, and similar conceptions were all versions of an underlying unity that gives birth to all things. It is that from which all things arise and to which all things return. As such it is nearly identical with the ancient Chinese conception of the Tao, which gives birth to yin and yang, and then to the ten thousand things. Interestingly, the semi-legendary preceptor of Taoism, Lao Tzu, lived at approximately the same time as the pre-Socratic philosophers —which is also more or less the time of the first Chinese coinage. In any event, today it is still money that gives birth to the ten thousand things. Whatever you want to build in this world, you start with an investment, with money. And then, when you have finished your project, it is time to sell it. All things come from money; all things return to money.

    Unlike physical goods, the abstraction of money allows us, in principle, to possess unlimited quantities of it. Thus it is easy for economists to believe in the possibility of endless exponential growth, where a mere number represents the size of the economy. The sum total of all goods and services is a number, and what limit is there on the growth of a number? Lost in abstraction, we ignore the limits of nature and culture to accommodate our growth. Following Plato, we make the abstraction more real than the reality, fixing Wall Street while the real economy languishes. The monetary essence of things is called “value,” which, as an abstracted, uniform essence, reduces the plurality of the world. All things are reduced to what they are worth. This gives the illusion that the world is as limitless as numbers are. For a price, you can buy anything.

    Charles Eisenstein, Sacred Economics: Money, Gift and Society in the Age of Transition

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