Topher Hunt

11 Nov 2009
Contemporary Moral Philosophy
The False Dichotomy of Selfishness and Altruism

Introduction

About a month ago, my friend Cathy called me “altruistic”, which deeply bothered me although

at the time I didn't know why. We sat in the Wilson Cafe discussing my year volunteering in

Nicaragua, as well as the formative benefits of pre-college travel experience in general. “Topher, you

are so altruistic!” she interjected at one point. “I can't imagine doing that! And it must have been such

an amazing experience for you, too.” It was an innocent enough comment, and certainly flattering for

me. But somehow the use of the term “altruism” felt threatening to me, and the response that came

immediately to mind was perhaps not what she was expecting: “No – I don't think of myself as

altruistic at all. I consider most of my actions to be pretty selfish, actually.” Needless to say, this

response caused Cathy some confusion. Because I was at a loss for why I felt so averse to the word

“altruism”, the conversation stopped there.

This paper sets out to explore the typically polarized concepts of “selfishness” and “altruism”,

which I have continued to reflect on since that fateful, doomed conversation a month ago. I will argue

that the widely perceived dichotomy between “selfishness” and “altruism” is not only false, but also

damaging to our moral integrity. I will then argue that the concept of self-interest can be reinterpreted

to include acts that are generally labelled “altruistic” or “selfless”, and give examples that support this

view. An integration of self-interest and selflessness requires a definition of morality that is growth-

oriented and less dualistic / absolutistic than the view of morality that I generally hear expressed.
A dichotomy exists between selfishness and altruism

Most discussions that involve the concepts of “selfishness” and “altruism” make very clear the

implicit assumption that these two ideas are polar opposites. In our Contemporary Moral Philosophy

class, “the moral thing to do” often stands in for the term “altruism”, but both seem to have the exact

same connotation: in an altruistic or moral action, the interests of the self do not influence one's

evaluation of a morally relevant decision. Conversely, the “selfish” thing is assumed to preclude the

good of any “Other” who may be morally implicated.

This view of altruism and selfishness is pretty normal as far as I can tell. Cathy's conception of

altruism reflected this polarity. It is an element of our dominant discourse in class, particularly salient

when we have discussed psychological and moral egoism. Both the descriptive theory of psychological

egoism and Feinberg, who critiqued this, view all “moral action” as in some way sacrificing the needs

of the self for another cause.

This dichotomy is false

But notice that altruistic acts always touch on some topic that the actor feels strongly about and

identifies with. Let us suppose that, at risk to my own life, I decide to help forge a new global

“Democracy” government that will ensure a peaceful and stable world order. What would it be like to

care about this higher cause so much that I would act selflessly for its sake? I see the cause as more

central to my meaningful existence than is the health of my physical body, material wealth, etc. This is

another way to say that I identify with Democracy more than with my physical body – my conception

of my “Self” is contingent on this higher cause.

My point here is to say that one's self-identity can and does expand beyond one's physical “self-
interest” in the narrow sense, thus allowing for cases where the “selfish” action is a moral one. In the

above example, to say that I am sacrificing my “self” for an altruistic cause becomes a contradiction in

terms; Democracy is more central to protecting the interests of my self, and more painful to give up,

than is my physical well-being. Braveheart wasn't sacrificing himself when he cried “Freedom!”

instead of “Mercy!” as the guillotine came down; he was immortalizing that thing which was most

central to his self-conception: his freedom of will. Altruism and self-interest cease to be mutually

exclusive concepts.

The perceived selfish-altruistic dichotomy is harmful to our moral integrity

The conversation with Cathy was not the first conversation where I felt some dissonance at

being labelled “altruistic” or “selfless”. This dissonance comes from two sources. First, it feels horribly

inaccurate to consider my actions “selfless”, given that I do them very much based on my self-interest,

as reasoned above. Second, it has often felt like someone is categorizing me as “altruistic” in order to

disown their own potential responsibility to consider good deeds in the world.

I remember a jolly Christmas party a couple years ago where my relatives, unusually

emboldened by the wine, were grilling me on my experiences while teaching in Nicaragua. As I told

them my stories, our minds were clearly in different places. My aim was to humanize the experience,

making it feel immediate and portraying it as the natural thing to do. Yet their questions and comments

revealed a persistent, unspoken question running through their minds: “How can you be such a good

person, to give up your time and energy and safety to spend a year in a place like that?” This question

seemed to be bound up with another, more subtle and hesitant one: “What motivated you to take such

positive moral action, when I have not done so?” Their answer to these questions was to decide that I
am an “altruistic soul”.

The label “altruistic” seems to solve a mental conundrum for many people: They define

altruism as denying the self for some higher good; yet they can't imagine anyone willingly giving up all

the things that involve their conception of “the self” for some higher cause. After all, anyone with an

ounce of self-interested respect won't willingly sacrifice that self to something else. How, then, does

one account for those actions which seem to entail altruism? Labelling the action or person as “selfless”

or “altruistic” solves the conundrum. It assigns altruism as a character trait: Selflessness comes easily

to you because that's a part of how you work, and other people don't necessarily have that same trait.

My relatives, having explained my altruistic action as based on a trait that they didn't possess,

did not need to speculate further on why I was so motivated to do something selfless. This allowed

them to fend off the uneasy question of their personal moral obligation in light of my perceived actions

in the world. Thus, applying the polarity of altruism vs. selfishness as a personal character trait to say

“He's not self-interested; he's altruistic”, can enable people to disown their personal responsibility for

moral action. Polarizing “altruism” and “self-interest” provides an easy rationalization for not being

altruistic: it's seen as too immense, too much sacrifice. This justifies moral laxity and apathy to world's

problems.

The sense that the dichotomy of altruism vs. selfishness is being hijacked to justify inaction, is

why I felt the urge to insist to Cathy that my actions are indeed in my self-interest. Instead of propping

up such actions on an unreachable pedestal of glory and praise, I wanted to bring them down to a place

where others could identify with them, and could conceive of doing such deeds themselves.
Self-interest as a moral theory

The irony about the conversation with my family is that by going to Nicaragua, I was pursuing

the things that are important to myself. I was giving things that matter less to me – time, energy,

physical risk – to feed and foster some “higher cause” that felt more central to my self-identity. I don't

do anything that negates the concerns of the self; everything I do is centrally meaningful to developing

and actualizing my sense of identity. I don't want to work to do good deeds towards some “Other” who

I can't identify with; I would rather work on my ability to perspective-take so that I can see part of

myself in that Other, and act out of that connection.

Any thorough definition of self-interest should include not just our bodily material needs, but

that which I personally see as necessary for my meaningful existence. Given that we all have very

different conceptions of what our “meaningful existence” relies on, conceptions of self-interest can

vary drastically for different people. This conception of self-identity and self-interest is not personal

speculation; many researchers and theorists have supported the notion that one's self-sense goes beyond

just the needs of the physical body. Psychologists Jane Loevinger, Lawrence Kohlberg, Carol Gilligan,

and Susanne Cook-Greuter all present very compelling research demonstrating that a person's self-

conception grows over time. Moreover, all this developmental research indicates that people's self-

identity grows directionally – always allowing a person to identify with more foreign experiences and

perspectives, not less. Thus, as a person grows in experience and self-identity throughout life, they

should theoretically come more and more to see as being in their “self-interest”, actions that others

might consider selfless and altruistic.

Philosopher Jeffrey Reiman succinctly brings this conception of self-identification into the

moral realm: “... via growth and the ability to communicate and interact with more and more people,
civilization extends the circle of people with whom we empathize.”1 It follows intuitively for Reiman

that increased exposure to other people and perspectives increases one's moral capacity.

I will not argue that the broad definition of self-interest which I describe here is the only true

way to conceive of self-interest. Certainly the more narrow definition is useful, say, to distinguish cases

where one's interests and self-sense do not extend to the wellfare of their neighbors, or to universal

moral principles which would lead them to just action. However I feel that the dichotomy between

“altruism” and “self-interest” is all too entrenched, and unnecessarily limits our conception of moral

action by framing most moral action as an unnatural self-sacrifice of some sort.

Conclusion

Personally, pursuing my self-interest has led me to a great deal of actions that I would consider

moral and which others have even called altruistic. When moral questions arise, I don't feel the need to

lose sleep trying to figure out what is the right decision. I hold certain values and principles that I

consider central to my identity and meaning in life: equal opportunity, spontaneity, flexibility,

autonomy for all people, ensuring that effort and work is never wasted, maximizing opportunities for

growth for myself and others, the right to comfort and happiness, and so forth. When faced with a

moral conundrum, I simply evaluate what decision will further the most of these principles, and choose

that. In fact, when I don't consider these interests or make an egregious error in my assessment of a

situation, I often feel like I have compromised something of myself, and even feel threatened by it. In

this way, “selfishness” is an effective moral approach for me. It certainly makes a good conversation-

ender.

1 Reiman, J. “Justice, Civilization, and the Death Penalty.” Philosophy and Public Affairs 14 (Spring 1985); pp 134-138.