Resisting temptation
Why do we experience temptation? And how can we overcome it?
A great number of the world’s problems arise from the inability to resist temptation. Consider the many crimes committed by people who knew that what they were doing was wrong, and who later regretted what they did. Think of how much harder life is for the reluctantly overweight, for smokers and alcoholics, etc., who would like to change their behavior, but can’t seem to do so. (Think also of the burdens that such self-control failures place on healthcare systems.)
The famous “marshmallow test” puts some data behind this observation. For those not familiar, the “marshmallow test” comes from a series of experiments conducted in the 1970’s on what was then being called “delay of gratification” in children. Children were presented with one treat (sometimes a marshmallow). They were then told that if they waited, they could receive two treats later. If they could not wait, they would not get another. Some children immediately scarfed down the treat while others resisted temptation, sometimes for quite a while. The researchers contacted these children later in life, in adolescence and again in adulthood, and collected data on their socioeconomic status, criminal records, IQ, and a number of other variables. What they found was surprising. The preschoolers who resisted temptation for longer than their peers:
- Scored an average of about 200 points higher on the SAT
- Showed better emotional coping skills
- Were wealthier
- Had fewer mental health problems
- Used fewer drugs
- And had a more positive self-image
Thus, it seems that the ability to resist temptation is a very important determinant of how well a person’s life goes.
Despite how ubiquitous and familiar temptation is, it’s a really strange phenomenon. It involves making a choice or judgment about what is best, and then later being attracted to a worse alternative. When we succumb to temptation, we are intentionally doing what we decided not to do — what is, by our own judgment, not the right choice. That’s really weird. What’s going on when we experience temptation? And why do we so often fail to resist it?
When we succumb to temptation, we are intentionally doing what we decided not to do — what is, by our own judgment, not the right choice. That’s really weird.
To fix ideas, let’s consider a typical example of temptation and self-control failure. Consider the following scenario: After reading about the harmful effects of refined sugar on the human body, I decide to cut sugar from my diet. I start planning and behaving accordingly. At work a few days later there is a platter of sugary treats being offered around. I think to myself, “No, I’m not eating sugar”, and resist for about 15 minutes. Then I cave and eat a donut. A short time later I wish I hadn’t, and am disappointed with myself.
There are a couple ways in which academics have tried to explain this sort of experience.
One intuitive view is that I was “taken over” by an irrational part of myself. It’s almost as though there were different people — or different parts of a conflicted self — fighting for control of my body. First, there was the guy who decided to cut out sugar; then he was pushed out of the way by a guy who really wanted the treat; finally, the original guy came back and was upset about what had happened. The treat-eater’s attitudes, intentions, and behavior all seem contrary to the other guy’s. So, one way of understanding self-control failures is as occasions in which a part of oneself is in opposition to the other parts. A person who succumbs to temptation is someone who cannot control the insubordinate parts of themself.
Another explanation appeals to so-called “time-biased preferences”. People seem to have a tendency to care more about things that are nearer to the present than things that are further into the future. For instance, if you had to have a painful surgery, would you rather it be today, or in a week? Would you rather have $10 now, or $20 in 4 months? Most people will put off things they don’t like, even knowing that they can’t ultimately avoid them. And they’ll choose smaller sooner rewards over larger later ones. (There’s a lot to read on this subject, for those interested.) Perhaps succumbing to temptation involves acting on a severely time-biased preference. It’s easy to imagine someone giving into temptation while saying, “I don’t care about the future. I’m enjoying the now!” In our example, the reasoning might look like this, “I prefer the sweet flavor in my mouth now over avoiding health problems in years to come.”
Both of these views do a good job of making succumbing to temptation look irrational (you’re either internally conflicted, not a coherent self, or else acting on absurdly time-biased desires). And, indeed, temptation does, or can, seem irrational. But these explanations don’t, to my mind, make sense of why temptation is so hard to resist for so many people — people who are otherwise very intelligent and rational. I have a way of making sense of things that I find more illuminating. It explains both why tempting options are so damn tempting and why it is often a mistake to choose them.
Temptation as a prisoner’s dilemma with yourself
I think we can get a better grip on temptation if we formalize it a bit with some game theory. Game theory is a way in which academics often model decisions. Below is something called a “payoff table”. It presents each of the possible outcomes, when I am faced with temptation.
The columns represent what I do in the future, either I’ll succumb to temptation, or I’ll resist. The rows represent what I do now. The numbers in each cell indicate a ranking for the outcomes.
Clearly, it’s far better to be in the right-hand column — the case where my future self is able to (at least fairly consistently) resist eating sugar. That’s because doing so means avoiding the serious health problems that could come from chronic consumption of refined sugar. But notice that, once I’m in that column, it’s better for me to eat the sugar now. If my future self is going to be self-controlled, then I might as well indulge this one time. After all, this one donut is not going to make me obese, or give me diabetes or any such thing. So, the best outcome is the top right cell. In that scenario, I get the benefit of a donut, plus I avoid the health problems. Second best is avoiding the health problems without getting that donut. It’s far worse to be in the left-hand column. But notice that, if I do end up in the left-hand column, it’s still better to eat the donut. If I’m going to get sick regardless, then there’s no reason to abstain this time. I might as well get the benefit of one more treat.
This means that — no matter what my future self does — it’s better for me to succumb to temptation now. If my future self gorges himself on sugar and I get sick, then I might as well not bother resisting the sugar now. If my future self is self-controlled and moderate, meaning I won’t get sick, then I might as well get the benefit of this one treat. This looks like the famous “prisoner’s dilemma”. A prisoner’s dilemma is a situation in which it’s always individually rational to not cooperate with your partner(s) — even though all parties are better off if everyone cooperates. The difference in the temptation case is that your partner is yourself — or, rather, your future self.
I think this explains why we feel tempted. It really is best for me, in this case, if I eat the donut. But here’s the rub! That will be true again the next time I make such a choice, and again the next time, and again… Each time I face temptation, it’s best if I indulge now and abstain later. But, if I do that, then I end up suffering from serious long-term problems. If we choose the options that are best for us in each case — considered in isolation — then we screw ourselves in the long run. So, I think temptation results from the simultaneous awareness that it’s always better to indulge, but really bad if you always indulge.
Temptation results from the simultaneous awareness that it’s always better to indulge, but really bad if you always indulge.
You can see how this generalizes. The temptation of the sugary treat is just one instance of a much more common phenomenon. There are lots of behaviors that come with small short-term benefits and large long-term costs (lying, not exercising, smoking, etc.). It’s best for us to generally abstain from them (though the occasional indulgence can be fine). But what makes this hard is that, in each case, we don’t actually risk losing the larger later benefit by indulging. One cigarette won’t give you lung cancer; one lie won’t spoil all your relationships; skipping one workout won’t ruin your health. But doing these things regularly will.
To resist temptation you need to not make choices as if they were one-off decisions, but instead recognize that each is just one stage in a long-term strategy. You need, in other words, to adopt a consistent policy, and not make decisions independently. Always doing what is best to do now, can lead to very bad situations in the future.
This picture differs from the two we saw above (self-control failures are [1] a failure to control insubordinate parts of the self, or [2] severely time-biased preferences), but incorporates something of each. Resisting temptation does involve keeping different parts of oneself in line. But, on the picture I’m suggesting, the selves are not inside oneself fighting for control — they are extended across time. Moreover, resisting temptation does have something to do with being consistent across time. But it’s not about overcoming time-bias in one’s preferences. It’s about recognizing that your present self is but one of the many that composes you. You could think of your present self as being on a team along with your past and future selves. It’s a team that needs to work together for the benefit of all. Succumbing to temptation is like freeriding on your teammates.
Strategies for maintaining self-control
So, now that we have an understanding of what goes on in temptation, we can think more clearly about how to overcome it.
One obvious strategy involves making tempting options inaccessible — e.g., by avoiding places with sugary treats. The weakness of this strategy is that it’s not always possible to do this. For instance if someone shows up to work with a plate of treats. In such cases, you can try to make the tempting option less salient — i.e., you can distract yourself. (This, by the way, was a typical strategy used by the preschoolers who successfully abstained from the first marshmallow.) But this strategy too is limited in that you can’t do this forever. You can’t keep yourself busy all the time. Eventually you’ll have to face tempting options.
Another strategy would involve eliminating the small short-term benefit that attracts us to the option in the first place. So, for instance, you could try to find a way to make donuts or cigarettes, or whatever appeals to you, seem gross. A very negative associated memory could do the trick. This might be the idea behind the classic parental move of making a child who is attracted to cigarettes smoke a whole pack all at once. A child might, after such an unpleasant experience, come to see smoking as very unattractive. (I’m really not sure if this is a good strategy. But we can at least see why people would come up with it.)
A related strategy involves changing your own incentive structure. For instance, you could give a friend $50 and instruct them not to return the money if you succumbs to temptation. (There’s a website, stickk.com, that does something like this. The difference is that, if your friend reports that you didn’t meet your goal, the money goes to an “anti-charity” of your choosing.) A milder version of this strategy would be to simply tell lots of people you’re going to do something (e.g., quit sugar) so that — if they see you violating this policy, you will have to explain yourself, and may even feel guilty.
Yet another strategy involves conceiving of each individual choice as a representative for a category of choices. For instance you could come to see the choice of whether to smoke this cigarette as the choice whether to be a smoker. There is some empirical evidence that this is both a common and sometimes effective strategy. However, I think there’s something something suspect about it: it’s self-deceptive. It’s just not true that smoking one cigarette makes you a smoker, or telling one lie makes you a liar. More importantly, it’s not going to lead to the lung cancer (etc.), or the ruined relationships that make being a smoker or a liar bad for you. So, while you might be able to trick yourself into thinking this sort of thing, it’s not actually true.
Fortunately, I have another idea that I think can solve this problem. To resist temptation, you can remind yourself that the future depends on the present. What I do now affects what I am likely to do in the future. My choices now shape me into the person I will become, and thereby help to determine whether I receive the long-term benefits. In other words, which column I end up in (in the payoff table above) is partially determined by which row I choose to place myself in now. The question we need to ask ourselves when we face temptation is: Who do I want to become?
Who do I want to become?
This is a kind of Aristotelian strategy. Aristotle argued that you can change our character by practicing behaving like someone with the relevant trait. If you want to be a certain kind of person, imitate such a person and you’ll form corresponding habits. For instance, if I want to become brave, Aristotle thought, I should practice acting bravely — even if I’m terrified while doing it. I won’t be brave just because I’ve done a few brave things. But I’ll eventually become brave if I practice it enough. “Fake it till you make it,” as they say.
There is a good deal of empirical research showing that people who conceive of their present selves as more continuous with their future selves have better self-control. It’s also been found that thinking about the self you will become as a result of your present choices can act as a “motivational amplifier”. In one study, non-exercisers were asked to imagine themselves in the future, either as fit and healthy (an ideal to aim for) or out of shape (a fate to avoid). Compared with controls, people who did not imagine their future selves, both groups exercised more over the next two months. These results have been replicated by a number of research teams (Andersson & Moss, 2011; Duncan et al., 2012; Giacobbi et al., 2014).
Moreover, this strategy for sticking to a policy doesn’t involve questionable self-deception. It’s about seeing what kind of person you are becoming as a result of your choices, and deciding what kind of person you actually want to be. (Do I want to be someone who can’t resist sugar? Or, do I want to be someone with a taste for healthy food and a fit body? Do I want to be someone who tells lies when it’s convenient? Or, do I want to be someone who is honest and true, someone that others can rely on?) Personally, I find this to be a really useful way of staying motivated to do what I believe is best. And that’s pretty cool.
