On mutual reciprocity in relationships

Anna and Mark sat across from each other at dinner, both exhausted from long workdays. Anna went to the fridge and grabbed some sliced mango, Mark’s favorite snack, which she had purchased earlier that day for him despite her exhaustion. Later that evening, when Anna’s migraine struck, Mark silently dimmed the lights and brought her medication and a glass of water, sitting by her side. Neither kept score; both simply responded to the other’s needs without hesitation.

Sarah spent every Friday night for three months helping James prepare presentations for his startup’s investors. When her father suffered a heart attack, James texted that he was “swamped with deadlines” and couldn’t visit the hospital. Later, when she lost her job, he was annoyed with her; had she been working hard enough?

David and Elena maintained separate bank accounts, divided household bills exactly in half, and kept meticulous records of who last bought groceries. When Elena fell ill, David reminded her that he’d “covered” for her last month when he drove her to the airport. Their apartment functioned with cold efficiency, but warmth and spontaneity were noticeably absent.

The ideal type of human relationship, both romantic and platonic, involves mutual reciprocity. Each person gives selflessly without expectation of return. However, this works only when neither party exploits the other.

Consider two people, each choosing either selfless love or self-interest. There are three possible outcomes: (1) both love selflessly, (2) one person loves while the other acts selfishly, (3) both act selfishly.

When both people love selflessly, we find happiness, warmth, connection, and mature reliance. Each person nourishes the other. Richard Davidson, a neuroscientist at the University of Wisconsin-Madison who studies meditation and has a close relationship with the dalai lama, once did a study on altruism. He divided people into two groups and gave each $200, with the requirement to spend it by the end of the day. The first group was told to keep the money for themselves and do whatever they’d like. The second group, was told that they could only spend the money on others. The second group reported feeling massively happier than the first group. The effects weren’t even close; effect size was pretty much as massive as you can get in a psychology study like this.

When one person loves while the other acts selfishly, vampirism occurs. The loving person becomes drained and are at risk of becoming jaded and selfish in future relationships. The “loving” one here also isn’t doing their partner any favors. By allowing the other person to act selfishly, they are teaching their partner that he or she can still get their needs met. And they won’t even be content - without the opportunity to act altruistically, the partner loses the happiness they could have gotten from it.

When both partners act selfishly, we have a stable state far inferior to mutual love. Both parties look after themselves and it’s more like a roommate situation than a mutually nourishing relationship.

The key to creating environments in which option (1) is the most likely is social trust. We need to believe that acting kind to others will not result in negative consequences. This happens through repeated direct experience. Culture plays a huge part and can generate either a positive or a negative feedback loop. In the positive feedback loop, members of a community are encouraged to act in service of each other, and respected when they do. This generates more people acting altruistically, which encourages even more people towards service, and so forth.

In the negative feedback loop, cultures embrace selfishness, and the selfless people become exploitable rather than honerable. The smart ones quickly switch to selfishness; the others keep geting taken advantage of until they learn.

I am concerned that the selfish feedback loop has gained popularity over the past twenty years. Consider common phrases: “Always look out for yourself,” “Focus on self-care,” or an excessive emphasis on leaving relationships whenever any problems pop up. I have ideas for why this is happening (and I’ll also need to show some evidence that it is, because it could also be the case that I’m just idolizing the past).

We remain social creatures requiring nourishment from others and ourselves, and denying this need contradicts our basic humanity.