ona’s self-portrait post (here) prompted me to want to try one of my own. I can’t really paint or even sketch that well, so I thought I’d try a written sketch. Maybe I could come up with a brief description of something I’d done, thought, or said that would provide a picture of me.
Earlier this week I was grocery shopping and bought a huge megapack of paper towels on sale. When I got to the parking lot, I saw the paper towels in the bottom of the cart and realized I had not paid for them. They cost like fifteen bucks, but I was in a hurry, so I loaded them in the car and left, and promised myself I would pay for them the next time I went shopping. I cut out the bar code from the package and stuffed it in my wallet.
The next shopping trip, I paid at the self-checkout. I found myself migrating toward the unit closest to the self-checkout helper station, and being a little miffed when it was closed and I had to use one further away. I realized that I had the ridiculous hope that the helper there would notice I was scanning a cut-out bar code and ask why, so I could tell them and they could admire how honest I was. I further realized that I hadn’t gone to one of the manned checkout lines because then I would have had to tell the checker why I was scanning this bar code, and it would seem like bragging. Oh vanity, thy middle name is Wendall!
* * *
So that’s my self-portrait sketch, capturing my desire to be seen as: (a) honest, and (b) humble enough not to flaunt it except if asked. I realize now that my selection of this particular vignette to write about—although the grocery checker never knew that I Did The Right Thing, you now know—also captures me in pretty much the same light.
This attitude doesn’t really set me apart from most of humanity. We all like to think of ourselves as basically honest, and—mostly—we are. According to Daniel Ariely in The (Honest) Truth About Dishonesty, we are all continually presented with opportunities to cheat, and how we deal with them depends on (a) whether the stakes are above a minimum amount below which our conscience doesn’t prick us (apparently that’s $15 in my case), and (b) whether we think others will witness our behavior.
This is a consequence of being social animals. In Jonathan Haidt’s book The Righteous Mind (which I’ve mentioned a couple of times before, including here), he describes the unconscious “sociometer” that all humans possess, that constantly scans the social environment for indications of how one’s relational value is being measured by others. One of the functions of the sociometer is to continually recalibrate our moral compass; another is to help us maintain an optimum relationship with our community. It’s an evolutionary advantage to be seen as moral, just as it’s an advantage to be seen as powerful, attractive, smart, or not-to-be-messed-with.
The concepts of morality, and of social communication of one’s morality, manifest in more significant ways than my paper towel sketch, including religion and politics. We have a friend who sincerely believes that if you don’t believe in God, you can’t be moral. I used to think that this was just a simplistic belief that no one would be good unless they thought they’d ultimately get a reward for it. But now I think her belief might be more sophisticated, and is an expansion of the sociometer concept. She might believe, though she may not express it this way, that people’s moralities are unconsciously tempered by what their sociometers tell them others think of them, including the Other from whom believers can keep no secrets.
There’s a quote in Ariely’s book that goes a long way toward explaining why Americans are so divided about Trump’s impeachment. I think the analysis applies equally to Democrats and Republicans:
It seems that the social forces around us work in two different ways: When the cheater is part of our social group, we identify with that person and, as a consequence, feel that cheating is more socially acceptable. But when the person cheating is an outsider, it is harder to justify our misbehavior, and we become more ethical out of a desire to distance ourselves from that immoral person and from that other (much less moral) out-group.
Some day, when I feel self-assured enough about this whole blogging business to take on some controversy, I would like to post more thoughts on both religion and politics. But that will have to wait until I’m more confident about the effect such writing would have on the readings of my sociometer.
Thanks,
Dorn
10/22/2019
PS: My search for that perfect pen name (mentioned here) continues. I just heard that Mitt Romney has already taken the name “Pierre Delecto”. So I’ll have to keep looking.
