The Problem With Altruism

Though we don’t live in zoos, we often behave like animals. So many of our instincts are derived from our animal counterparts. Take the various forms of altruism as an example. In the animal kingdom, a bird or primate will engage in reciprocal altruism or reciprocity by grooming an unrelated member of their species. This action puts them at a momentary disadvantage (i.e., they are distracted and may be at risk) with the expectation that this kindness will be repaid in the future.

Altruism in humans does not always assume a repayment of the kindness offered. We may share our food with a friend who forgot their lunch or drop some money in a donation box without expecting repayment. These types of altruistic acts often benefit those who need help most. In addition to helping others, performing selfless acts also makes us feel good. Seeing others engage in altruism can lead us to see them as a “good” person generally, thanks to the halo effect.

There is another approach that takes the idea of giving back a step further. Rather than donating money to a cause and feeling good that you have made a difference, effective altruism argues that many of the ways we do good are ineffective. Those that belong to this movement, popularized by Peter Singer and GiveWell, focus on the most effective and impactful ways to give charitably. They strive to do good things better. As people who study ethics, we are all for this, but decisions made by the now-convicted Sam Bankman-Fried, an outspoken supporter of effective altruism, highlight that this laser focus on helping can potentially corrupt. When we are so focused on the “good” of our outcomes, we can ignore a lot of bad decisions along the way.

When it comes to altruism, the “how” is as important as the “why”

Some (like Immanuel Kant) would argue that altruism is really just enlightened self-interest and that we are no better than the grooming monkeys,* doing these selfless things just to feel good about ourselves or to look good for others. Always seeking to help others, though clearly noble, can lead to emotional exhaustion and financial losses that deplete the altruist to the point that helping is no longer possible.

One of the most insidious problems with altruistic behavior is referred to as “moral licensing.” The idea here is that when we do something virtuous, we allow ourselves to behave badly in another area of our lives. Perhaps we drive an electric car to work. Doesn’t that mean we can fib a little on our taxes and still feel good about ourselves? Answer: no. We are happy that you are doing something to reduce your carbon footprint, but you still need to play by the rules. In fact, we’d love for you to do more, and we’d still expect you to play by the rules if you did.

Cinderella would have you believe that “When there is kindness, there is goodness,” a brave stance considering her stepmother and sisters. Unfortunately, sometimes, a simple act of kindness can lead to complicated acts of villainy. Like many things, altruism can also have unintended consequences, such as unknowingly perpetuating existing biases.

When food banks receive donations of partially eaten or expired food, it is likely because some well-intentioned individual assumed that a needy person in their community was desperate enough to want it. Ask yourself: Why do you assume that person needs the help that you are offering? What do you really know about their goals and circumstances? And be honest: Are you doing this for them or for you?

To be clear, we want you to go forth and do good because good intentions are not nothing. And please do not allow yourself to become paralyzed by all the possible ways in which you can help. Just help!

But along the way, try to check in with your own biases, avoid using your kindness as an excuse for bad behavior, and remember that you are benefitting as well. We all need a fairy godmother from time to time, and it feels good to be that for someone else.

*No disrespect to monkeys intended. We at The Problem With are very much pro-monkey.