addi.abo.pdf

Thinking abouT addicTion

g. John M. abbarnogeorge allangerhold k. beckerRaymond angelo belliottikenneth a. brysonc. Stephen byrumharvey cormierRobert A. DelfinoRem b. EdwardsMalcolm d. Evansdaniel b. gallagherandrew Fitz-gibbonFrancesc Forn i argimonWilliam gaydane R. gordonJ. Everet greenheta aleksandra gylling

Matti hyrySteven V. hicksRichard T. hullMichael krauszMark LetteriVincent L. Luizziadrianne McEvoyPeter a. Redpatharleen L. F. SallesJohn R. ShookEddy SouffrantTuija TakalaEmil Viovskanne WatersJames R. WatsonJohn R. WelchThomas Woods

VIBSVolume 209

Robert ginsbergFounding Editor

Leonidas donskisExecutive Editor

Associate Editors

a volume inSocial Philosophy

SPandrew Fitz-gibbon, Editor

amsterdam - new York, nY 2009

craig hanson

With a Chapter by George Ainslie

Thinking abouT addicTionhyperbolic discounting and

Responsible agency

Cover photo: Morguefile.com

cover design: Studio Pollmann

The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements of iSo 9706:1994, information and documentation - Paper for documents - Requirements for permanence.

iSbn: 978-90-420-2662-9E-book iSbn: 978-90-420-2663-6 Editions Rodopi b.V., amsterdam - new York, nY 2009Printed in the netherlands

Social Philosophy (SP)

andrew Fitz-gibbon Editor

another title in SP

Evgenia cherkasova, Dostoevsky and Kant:Dialogues on Ethics.

2009. VibS 206

CONTENTS

Editorial Foreword vii ANDREW FITZ-GIBBON

Guest Foreword: Philosophy and Addiction ix LAWRENCE ASHLEY

Acknowledgments xvii ONE Philosophical Perspectives on Theories of Addiction 1

TWO Addiction from the Behavioral Economists Point of View 13 THREE Ainsliean Selves 31 FOUR Self-Deception 45 FIVE Toward the Rationality of Bundling 59 SIX Responsibility 75 SEVEN Responsibility in a Reductionist Model 95 GEORGE AINSLIE WORKS CITED 115 ABOUT THE AUTHORS 121 INDEX 123

EDITORIAL FOREWORD

In 1998, the philosophy department at SUNY Cortland took the innovative step to create a program focused on social philosophy. The key components of the program are social and political philosophy, ethics, and applied philos-ophy. In 2007, following the successful implementation of the program, the department formed the Center for Ethics Peace and Social Justice to extend the outreach of philosophy through publications, conferences, and a summer ethics institute for faculty, and philosophical practice and activism.

As part of that outreach, we are delighted to co-sponsor a VIBS series in social philosophy. Craig Hansons Thinking about Addiction: Hyperbolic Discounting and Responsible Agency is the second in the series.

Hansons book is a creative, and at times controversial, exploration of behavioral and economic models of addiction. It will be of interest to those considering philosophical accounts of addiction and those who want to recon-sider moral responsibility and agency.

Andrew Fitz-Gibbon Associate Professor in Philosophy

Director, Center for Ethics, Peace and Social Justice State University of New York College at Cortland

and VIBS Social Philosophy Special Series Editor

GUEST FOREWORD

I feel privileged to be asked to comment on Dr. Craig Hansons path-breaking exploration of the connections between addiction and philosophy. The pairing is a unique one, as the voices of empirical sciences have dominated the dis-cussion to this point.

On the assumption that many people who read this book will not have had extensive training in philosophy, my primary aim in this foreword will be to sketch out the connection between Craig Hansons essay and a number of traditional philosophical questions. Hanson is himself a philosopher, and his writing exhibits philosophical techniques and references philosophical issues. I shall not bore the reader with an extensive treatment of what Hanson expli-cates. On the other hand, at a number of points, his exposition appears to me to involve philosophical issues that he skirts to keep his analysis on track. This is what I set out to fill in for the reader.

It might also appear, as I sketch out philosophical problems in sequence, that I am being harsh or dismissive of the work Hanson and George Ainslie are doing. On the contrary, I have been very surprised at the richness of the philosophical issues addiction raises which I had not appreciated before I read their work, and while at a number of points I feel disposed to be contentious, I am also admiring of their progress and creativity.

1. What is addiction? It is interesting that Hanson does not take time out to define addiction. That would be standard philosophical practice. And in the case of addiction such an attempt seems more imperative than would be the case for many other concepts. Our culture as a whole is quite confused about what constitutes addiction.

This is a harder question to answer than one might expect, given that the media, books and professionals in various fields wield the concept so confi-dently. A brief list of the things to which one might be said to be addicted would include alcohol, codeine, heroin, methadone, cocaine, cigarettes, choc-olate, sex, pornography, hand washing, power, playing video games, and gambling. The Internet, blogging, Email, and other electronic pursuits have been described as addictive, and some pundits have claimed that the nation is addicted to war and oil. Thus, addiction shows all the signs of an idea in need of conceptual clarification.

We could divide our list into substances to which people become ad-dicted to ingesting and actions that people addictively repeat. Do we have any reason to consider injecting or ingesting substances more obviously addictive than performing actions? Perhaps only this: that the chemical connections between the injected or ingested substances and beta endorphins, triggering the limbic system, have been more thoroughly explored and explained than

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have the connections between actions and the release of beta endorphins. Researchers may clarify that causal connection (to actions) in the near future as we follow up on discoveries about the insula of the brain. I will return to this point below.

So let us assume that, despite our tending to argue more about whether sex or video games really can be addictive, the substance-action distinction is not demonstrably a crucial or helpful distinction. Next, note that we have a range of descriptive terms we can apply to substance-ingestion or action repetition:

An Addiction A Compulsion A Need An Urge A Self-indulgent choice A Habit, routine An Impulse A Whim

I placed breaks in this list to suggest quantum breaks, and I would not

quarrel too much if someone said that no actual spectrum could be made at all because some of these terms come in degrees, which would make a spectrum analysis implausible. But what is this a spectrum of ? I intended it as a scale of resistibility. What does the scale suggest? The top three items present ge-nuine problems in terms of our freedom to liberate ourselves from them. The middle set is easier to modify, but still powerful in the ordinary domain of human action. The bottom group is relevant to our discussion, but suggests conditions more easily resisted if we so wish.

We might be able to make a bit of progress in our inquiry by asking what the difference is between compulsions and addictions. We some-times refer to gambling, as our original list suggested, as an addiction. But it is also (and perhaps more properly) called a compulsion.

An element of social disapprobation may clearly be involved in calling something an addiction. Indeed, a radical critique of addiction talk persists, which suggests that denying that something is an addiction involves us in an inevitable clash with conventional models of economic propriety and personal health. Few things uncontroversially labeled addictions escape public disap-probation by sizeable proportions of the population. In other words, calling something an addiction may conspire with social attitudes toward the things ingested or actions pursued. Calling them addictions pathologizes them.

Consider other human cravings for comparison purposes. Are we ad-dicted to air? Are we addicted to ingesting liquids? To eating food? In all these cases, an acute craving occurs when we are deprived of them. It would

Guest Foreword xi

not occur to us, except in jest, to refer to ourselves as addicted to these things, but perhaps only because no social disapprobation occurs in obtaining them to our satisfaction. We do not pathologize these things.

By an acute craving, I do not mean an incredibly strong desire for something (else I would have to say, for a child who strongly desires a toy, that they are addicted to the toy, which seems wrong). I mean craving to be a bodily reaction on the level of raised blood pressure, feelings of intense phys-ical need, panting in the case of thirst, and cramps in the case of hunger. These would be involved in the case of classic addictions. To extend the con-cept of addiction to gambling or video games or sex would be a by conven-tion decision. In other words, they are not paradigm instances of addiction, though they share enough similarity to that condition that we may find it hard to draw an objective line, though we may draw a pragmatic one.

I think we should not quarrel with calling things compulsions when they absorb too much of our lives and we find moderating them difficult. But in the absence of the physical symptomsparticularly panic in the mental spherewe may be stretching things to apply the label of addiction.

We thus arrive at panic, craving, and concurrent physiological distress as defining characteristics of addictions.

2. The Mind/Body Problem The mind-body problem is one of the most intractable of philosophical is-sues. I would suggest Hansons account raises it, but that fact is obscured by the technique of simply declaring that his analysis will pursue a behavioral-economic model of addiction. This leads Hanson to give short shrift to the visceral theorists, who attempt a material account of addiction. That ac-count has its problems, but so does Hansons theory. The mind-body problem would lead us to ask whether mental phenomena are reducible to body states (in the case of addiction, mostly brain states) or vice versa, and whether per-haps simply two languages are in usea material, body language, which would employ statements referencing physiological facts (including brain states) and a mental language, which would reference only the mental world of ideas, emotions, or desiresthat are both referring to the same thing.

I may be able to make this point more easily later on, once I have intro-duced the next philosophical issue I want to highlight.

3. What about Materialism?

A fundamental division in our accounts of human behavior centers on the issue of whether we want to explain human behavior in simply materialist terms or whether we need to admit selves, souls, spirit, and the like in our account. Classical (and much contemporary) science is significantly material-ist in its assumptions, which cannot be said of philosophy. While many philo-

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sophers (namely, the Vienna circle, earlier empiricists and Karl Marx) have been materialists, the materialist view is thought to have many philosophical-ly intractable problems. But surely, most contemporary discoveries (if not contemporary theories) that have been most productive have been in the ma-terialist domain. The discovery that opiates are chemically so similar to en-dorphins (encephalins in British English), and the recent discovery that the insula has a varied and significant role in habit-formation and addiction, are two classic cases. I shall have more to say about the insula later, but for now, let me retail some of the language about the insula, which directly relate to the mind-body distinction I was discussing above. Here is a brief discussion of the insula from the New York Times Health section, attempting to acquaint Times readers with the newly discover dimensions of the insula, a quite ma-terial inner portion of the brain:

[Neuroscientists] say it is the wellspring of social emotions, things like lust and disgust, pride and humiliation, guilt, and atonement. It helps give rise to moral intuition, empathy and the capacity to respond emo-tionally to music. . . .The bottom line, according to Dr. Paulus and oth-ers, is that mind and body are integrated in the insula. It provides unprecedented insight into the anatomy of human emotions. . . . The in-sula itself is a sort of receiving zone that reads the physiological state of the entire body and then generates subjective feelings that can bring about actions, like eating, that keep the body in a state of internal bal-ance. Information from the insula is relayed to other brain structures that appear to be involved in decision making, especially the anterior cingu-late and prefrontal cortices. (Sandra Blakeslee, A Small Part of the Brain, and Its Profound Effects, 6 February 2007)

This is extraordinary language from a philosophical point of view, blithely assuming that we have no problems in moving from the brain to desireand indeed there are no problems for a straightforward materialist who does not think that things like selves exist, who believes that mental states are reduci-ble to brain-states or for double-language theorists as sketched above. But for all other philosophical positions, the supposition of the quotation is puzzling in the extreme.

More importantly, Sandra Blakeslees supposition does not reside in the same framework as the one Hanson and Ainslie inhabit. They construct a view of addiction that creates problems within cognitive domains that are traditionally subject to conditions of rationality severed from material causal conditions, at least in major relevant part. Neither thinker would, of course, deny that addictive substances are causally and materially tied to those who are addicted. However, they add to the causal (material) chain a collection of mental states subject to a further rational dynamic. They assume that human beings still have the same choice and responsibility as human beings have for

Guest Foreword xiii

other human actions. What strikes them as apparent is that addicts make choices and that this choice-making so violates our sense of rationality that it is akrasic (demonstrating weakness of will) or requires the assumption of multiple selves to model.

Note the utterly different account entailed by Blakeslees claim that the insula reads the physiological state of the entire body and then generates subjective feelings that can bring about actions, like eating, that keep the body in a state of internal balance. This is a materialist view that would re-place rationality conditions with internal physical dynamics. Were we to cri-tique Blakeslee, we would demand a much expanded explanation of the concept of keeping the body in a state of internal balance, but I think we have no room here for a rational decision theory approach.

Why is all of this important? Well, primarily because from these initial philosophical commitments we would be led in totally different directions when it comes to the treatment of addiction. If we view addiction as depen-dent on a kind of cognitive failure, we will be attracted to psychologically and socially-based patterns of treatment like cognitive psychotherapy or Alcohol-ics Anonymous. Curiously, these treatments leave plenty of room for the no-tion of the addicts responsibility for their condition. In both of these treatment mechanisms, learning to accept individual responsibility may be precisely the central point of treatment. On the other hand, if we think as a materialist does in this context, we put our money on studies of the way ence-phalin and the insula (and perhaps other brain dynamics yet to be uncovered) may be investigated and manipulated as the best way to treat addiction. Such models have remarkably little scope for responsibility, blame, and condemna-tion. The therapeutic model, without an emphasis on volition, reigns.

Were I out to make the materialists case, I would point to the incredibly material aspects of addiction. When I am addicted, I do not just want some-thing and want it terribly; every cell of my body cries out for it. My eyes drip for it. My nose runs for it. My muscles quiver for it. This is not an abstract and Olympian debate within my mind; it is an assault on my bodily being.

Hanson (and perhaps Ainslie) would not have too much problem con-ceding all this, as he thinks of himself as operating on proto-addicts, who are still making choices and still subject to rational thought and responsible choice. Their targets are not the novice just on the point of experimentation (classic cases of people who think that the causal deluge will not touch them or for whom capitulation to social pressure overrides prudential worries), but people who are semi-in-thrall. This is key; in this context, I appreciate Ain-slies passing reference to his view that addiction may be best viewed as an evolutionary process. That is a wonderful proposal, which neither Ainslie nor Hanson (at least in the texts we have before us) follows up. Static models may be poorly designed to capture the complexities of developing addiction, and perhaps others will pursue this further. I, however, want to proceed with my list of philosophical issues raised by the present inquiry.

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4. The Theory of Theories Theory is a particularly thorny area. What do we expect from a theory or a model? That it is predictive? Verifiable? That an experimentum crucis be present by which we can test its validity? These are all standard issues in the philosophy of science, and I think Hansons discussion makes us drag them out for review. It may well be the case that Hansons theory is in precisely the same predicament as string theory is in physics. String theory posits a ma-thematical model of space, time, and matter that entails ten, eleven, or twenty-six dimensions (I am not making this up) and, arguably, parallel universes. Now this theory can be manipulated and correlated with many things in the Einsteinian universe (which does not entail a definite number of dimensions but from which an infinite number of universes cannot be said to be entailed). But how do we know whether the theory is true (or, if you dislike true, then to be accepted or embraced)? We have no ways of verifying it. No empiri-cal evidence has been found in favor of it. It just may, arguably, model things. But it may model them on non-real or imaginary things. Is the eleventh di-mension real? How do we tell? Are tachyons real? How do we tell? Are strings mathematical entities or space-time entities?

Enough of the perplexities of modern physics. How does this connect to Hansons work? Are multiple contesting selves real in any sense? How can we tell? If we can construct a model of addiction, do we not have the addi-tional chore of deciding whether the model is a nifty invention or whether it genuinely advances our understanding of the phenomenon to be modeled?

I want to be careful here, for while I think this is an issue, and a serious one, I would not want the reader to dismiss Hansons analysis on the basis of these issues. After all, string theory bodes well to occupying thousands of physicists despite there being noted and notable philosophical issues for string theorists. The fact that there remain philosophical problems about Han-sons model or string theory does not mean that the model should be aban-doned, only that the model provokes other issues for those attracted to it. Let the dissertations begin.

5. Selves I am conscious in much of what I have written above that I have no research experience with addiction, so I speak as an outsider. On the other hand, I have often researched and taught about personal identity. So I would like to pull a more familiar rabbit out of the philosophical hat. From a philosophical point of view, I must point out that many people have questioned the Western con-cept of a self. Buddhism, on quite non-Western grounds, agues against the kind of self without which Hanson cannot pose his theory.

David Hume doubted that anyone seriously committed to empiricism could demonstrate that a self or unitary consciousness exists. Now I do not

Guest Foreword xv

want to enter into a detailed exposition of any particular theory, but I am cau-tious about assuming that we know what we are talking about when we talk about a self. Is it, perhaps, an indirect way of bowing before the theological notion of a soul? Not for Hanson, and not for me either, as I do not believe in a soul and Hanson never for a moment opens this possibility. But his readers?

If we have difficulties with the notion of a single self, how do we con-vincingly evoke multiple selves? This is not just a problem for Hanson, but for several post-modern theories of the self that bifurcate the self at will. I find all these theories make me want to press harder on the theorist to give independent evidence beyond the utility within their model as a justification for the multiple-self view. Perhaps Hansons readers will be more charitable than I am on this issuewe are in the realm of philosophical disputation here, and I wanted to lay my philosophical cards on the table.

6. The Theory of Human Action Hanson very consciously addresses one final philosophical issue. He displays no doubt that the primary way we deconstruct human action is via a rational choice model. Within this framework, the actions of addicts appear deeply irrational in a way that requires, he thinks, a sophisticated extension of Ain-slies Hyperbolic Discounting Model. But here is a classic philosophical problem: to what degree do people, in reality, subject their decisions to ra-tional criteria? Hume, Bertrand Russell, and a host of other philosophers have argued that philosophy routinely overstates the role of reason in human life. Sure, if I am choosing between jobs or selecting a college, the rational models of choice are convincing. But how much of an ordinary (or extraordinary) day fits into rational models? The rational model does not fit the way I ordinarily choose what to wear (though there are a few occasions where it may), wheth-er I brush my teeth, or whether I let my dog outside (she usually decides that, though I do it). Decision theory in particular and the field of economics in general struggle with the same issue. The assumptions they make in order to enable their mathematical and logical operations, may be poor models of genuine human choosing precisely because they overstate the role of logic, rationality (defined as maximizing self interest) and calculation in our lives.

The reader will have to decide whether Hanson and Ainslie make of our behavior something more characteristically rational than it is. This is a signif-icant issue to keep in mind as you readthe answer may not be a simple one.

7. The Insula Again I want to return to the insula, that deep-brain structure I mentioned above. Several interesting features of the insula will tie together a few of the issues I have raised. The recent notable discovery about the insula involved patients

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who had had strokes involving the insula and who instantly lost their addic-tion to cigarettes. This finding in itself would be intriguing, but the authors of the study, while concentrating on smoking cessation, acknowledged, It would be interesting to see how insula damage affects other learned plea-sures (Naqvi, Rudrauf, Damasio, and Bechara, 2007).

The complex role that the insula plays explains why this might be an in-triguing place to start. From Blakeslee again:

Another neuroscientist, Arthur D. Craig at the Barrow Neurological In-stitute in Phoenix, went on to describe exactly the circuitry that connects the body to the insula. According to Dr. Craig, the insula receives in-formation from receptors in the skin and internal organs. Such receptors are nerve cells that specialize in different senses. Thus there are recep-tors that detect heat, cold, itch, pain, taste, hunger, thirst, muscle ache, visceral sensations and so-called air hunger, the need to breathe. The sense of touch and the sense of the bodys position in space are routed to different brain regions, he said.

Thus, in the definition section with which we began, the roles of air hun-ger, thirst, and hunger, all being situated with the nicotine-craving locus, suggests, but does not entail, that we might not have been too far off in lump-ing the activities of breathing, eating, and drinking with addictions, although we did so on the basis of the physiological consequences of deprivation in-stead of their cohabitation in the same organ of the brain.

If we take seriously this more materialist clue about addiction, not only must much philosophical work be done in theories of human action and resur-recting some features of the mind-body problem, but also, in dialogue with the more reason-oriented approach of Hanson and Ainslie, we may make progress in understanding a significant human problem.

Lawrence Ashley, Professor

Philosophy Department State University of New York

College at Cortland, New York

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many people helped make this book possible. Edward McClennen provided helpful criticism and advice. George Ainslie, too, made several significant suggestions and dealt graciously with the intellectual meanderings of a philo-sopher. I thank him for his generosity. John Monterosso reviewed the manu-script and made key suggestions about issues I might otherwise have over-looked. Fred Browning provided helpful technical advice. Several people at a variety of conferences gave me constructive criticism and further insight that I may otherwise have missed. David Athey, James Swick, David Horkott, and Samuel Joeckel provided invaluable help and advice. Finally, Andrew Fitz-Gibbon and Larry Ashley provided insightful critique and invaluable advice.

I thank Danielle and Paul for their constant encouragement. As always, any errors are solely mine.

One

PHILOSOPHICAL PERSPECTIVES ON THEORIES OF ADDICTION

1. Introduction

Why do some people acquire addictions? Are they unaware of the conse-quences that such behaviors have on their lives, or are they aware of the con-sequences, but do not care? Are addictive behaviors chosen or compelled? What bearing might coercion have upon moral responsibility for the addict? More fundamentally, what is an addiction?

This book examines the behavioral economic models of addiction, which have been used, or could reasonably be used, to explain addiction. In what follows, I offer a philosophical narrative of these theories to demonstrate the helpful role that an analysis of self-deception might play in the clarifica-tion of what I deem to be the most promising account of addictionGeorge Ainslies Hyperbolic Discounting Model. I begin by asking basic philosophi-cal questions, and imagine how different theorists would respond to them, motivating my argument as I go.

Theories of addiction and addictive behavior lie almost exclusively out-side the domain of philosophy, usually occurring within the fields of clinical psychology and other behavioral sciences, and sometimes within behavioral economic models. I will primarily focus on the behavioral economic and so-cial scientific models, and treat the issues in a philosophical manner, probing and modifying current positions. Of the variety of behavioral economic mod-els, I will be most centrally concerned with the recent work of George Ainslie (1992b; 2001). I will offer some proposals to resolve difficulties he poses for his own explanation of addiction, raise other issues, and offer proposals to resolve them.

My primary focus will be the possibility and rationality of the activity that Ainslie calls bundling. While Ainslie takes bundling to be the cure for the irrationality of hyperbolic discounting, at the same time, he is critical of the bundling cure. Ainslie expresses serious reservations whether bundling is even a possible human behavior and if possible, whether bundling would be at all desirable (Ainslie, 1992b; 1999; 2001). In this volume, I argue for the pos-sibility, rationality, and desirability of bundling.

In Chapter Two, I will consider whether Ainslies is a model of addic-tion, or one that merely describes temptation. The two terms have slightly different connotations in common English. While the term addiction pre-supposes behaviors that are outside voluntary control, action that results from

2 THINKING ABOUT ADDICTION

yielding to temptation appears to connote actions of agents who merely suffer from a moment, however long, of moral weakness.

I argue that unless we implausibly loosen the definition of the term ad-diction, Ainslies system does not give us sufficient conditions for acquiring an addiction. But augmenting Ainslies model in relatively minor ways does succeed in yielding a plausible model of addiction.

Finally, I will address the issue of moral responsibility for Ainsliean agents, showing that addicts, under Ainslies model, are responsible for at least some of their addictive behavior.

With these provisional theses articulated, let me now more specifically address the nature of the arguments behind them.

On the topic of bundling and the negative side effects that bundling be-havior affords, I argue that a central problem for addictsone that Ainslie never discussesis self-deception. Addicts are frequently in a position to view themselves as self-deceived and by viewing themselves as such, they are in a position to engage in bundling behavior that also avoids the negative side effects of that behavior.

Bringing the notion of self-deception to bear on a discussion of Ainslie can help to solve some theoretical problems he identifies in his work. Stan-dardly, self-deception occurs when an agent intentionally acquires a belief whose propositional content is mutually contradictory to another belief that the agent consciously holds. In Chapter Four, I consider modifications to this definition and create a new model of self-deception according to which self-deception is a motivated error, occurring when an individual attempts to ac-commodate the preferences of another.

I will also propose two basic principles to account for the moral respon-sibility of agents of the sort that Ainslie describes. I propose that persons are morally responsible for knowingly failing to attempt to resolve life problems, provided that they believe that resolvable life problems exist. I also propose that persons are morally responsible (blameworthy) if they repeatedly attempt to resolve those problems via a method for which abundant inductive evi-dence exists that attests to its likely failure. Neither of these principles will necessarily give other persons (other than the person with the addiction) the knowledge they would need to justifiably cast praise or blame on the addict. Instead, I argue that these principles capture the essence of a moral property that addicts may have, such as the property of being in the right or being in the wrong. But we may never be in a position to know that the addict has such a moral property.

I will be discussing these theories from a philosophical perspective. This is crucial to remember because, while I will portray these theories as consti-tuting different kinds of reactions to philosophical ideas, not all proponents of them would agree. We see these positions articulated in the sciences indepen-dent of the workings of the dominant philosophical establishment. In Chapter Two, I will more fully probe these theories.

Philosophical Perspectives on Theories of Addiction 3

Throughout this book, I use the term addiction as opposed to terms such as substance abuse or substance dependence. While excessive usage of the term addiction has contributed to the extension of the term to cover non-substance cases that in some respects appear to resemble addictions (such as gambling), I chose to use the term to leave the door open to the possibility that these other, non-substance abuse behaviors lie within the terms scope.

2. Basic Concepts

A useful way to begin the discussion of addiction theories is to ask whether addicts have control over their addiction and over their choice to engage in the addictive behavior. If we were to answer that the addict has no control over the addiction, then a suitable account of addiction would be the visceral account. A visceral account of addiction is one that construes the addict as being the victim of uncontrollable urgesprobably (though not necessarily) attributable to neurobiological adaptation to some substancewhich over-whelm the agent, rendering deliberation ineffective and effacing freedom of choice. George Lowenstein (1999) and Jon Elster (1999a) defend this view. A strong visceral account (my term) would assert that not only is addiction properly explained by such visceral factors, but also that we need no other explanation for addiction other than the appeal to visceral forces.

Even Elster and Lowenstein do not endorse such an extreme view. Too much evidence exists that shows addicts do have some control over their ad-dictions. Addicts willingly plan and prepare for their addictions, even while not under the strong urges to engage in the addictive behavior. Addicts will, for example, commit themselves to inpatient rehabilitation to come clean and at the same time smuggle drugs into the treatment center in order to help them through the impending ordeal. Drug addicts might stockpile supplies in advance of the onset of visceral forces. If the only factors that caused a person to be an addict were visceral forces, such behavior in the absence of those forces either would be inexplicable, or would not take place.

Some people are capable of overcoming their viscerally caused desires and succeed in eschewing their addictiona feat that would be impossible were addiction to be always overpowering. The only possible way to recover from an addiction, if the strong visceral account is all there is to addiction, would be due to other forces that are also unconnected to the addicts will. These might include circumstances in which ones body becomes physically incapable of ingesting the drug, or circumstances in which the drug becomes physically unavailable to the addict. But what would not happen, on a strong visceral view, is the agents summoning up the will to overcome the addiction.

Most addicts who desire to overthrow their addiction report raging inter-nal conflictssomething that would not occur if their inclinations were utterly lopsided. These observations are not terribly problematic for visceral theorists. These theorists never claim that addiction is solely attributable to visceral


influences. As it happens, visceral theorists claim that while visceral influ-ences may at times be overpowering, they are not always so. The agent does have, at some point, a degree of control, even over decisions concerning whether to engage in the addictive behavior.

On the therapeutic side, what visceral theorists advocate is that addicts take advantage of those moments of control wisely and use them to put in place obstacles to their addictive behavior. Later on, when the addicted agent is subjected to the overpowering urges, the obstacles might block them. By way of example, if the nicotine addict has control now, it might have someone hide its cigarettes so that later on, when the urge is overpowering, the addict is unable to give in to the urge to smoke. A person with an alcohol addiction might have someone hide the car keys or pour out all of the alcohol so that later on the addict will not be able to drink or to obtain alcohol.

These types of strategies are called precommitment devices, and are paradigmatically symbolized by Ulysses tying himself to a mast ahead of time to avoid the compulsion he believes will overtake him upon hearing the Sirens song (Strotz, 1957; Elster, 1979).

A close variant of the precommitment device is sophisticated choice (McClennen, 1997) according to which an agent forecasts now which actions are feasible in the future, and rejects any course of action now that is not, in the future, feasible. Sophisticated choice is merely a close variant, not a syn-onym for the term precomittment device.

The notion of precommitment is utterly tyrannical. An individuals fu-ture self is forced by a past self into a decision or state. On the contrary, a sophisticated choice is one that might avoid the tyranny by opting for a strate-gy a future self may choose willingly. The precommitter need have no respect for the future self, while the sophisticated chooser may have a great deal of respect for that future self.

Once we grant that addicted agents may have control at some times, we are left to explain what occurs during those moments when the deliberative processes of the agent do have influence on action, when agents appear to be knowingly and freely opting for inferior alternatives. If we take such a possi-bility seriously, a myriad of explanations are available, all of which have sig-nificant philosophical components to them.

If we are to discuss the possibility of agents willingly or knowingly opt-ing in favor of courses of action that they deem to be inferior, we have just tread upon well-worn philosophical ground known as akrasia. The term akra-sia means incontinence or lack of mastery. Traditional cases of akrasia occur when the agent performs an action that the agent deems to, or if the agent fails to perform an action that the agent deems to be superior to the one that the agent did perform (provided the agent was free to do either action and had the ability to do either action). Cases of akrasia, then, involve an incongruity be-tween judgment and action.


The debate over akrasia is not a new one, and its current parameters continue to be dominated by the insights of the ancients. Understanding the positions of Plato and Aristotle will allow us to better understand current work on the topic.

Plato devotes a long passage to the concept of akrasia in the Protagoras (351b354c) and Republic (439e440b). In neither case does he explicitly use the term. Aristotle later coined the term. But the concept is unmistakable in these passages. In Protagoras, and less clearly in the Republic, he famously concludes that akrasia is impossible. In cases of alleged akrasia, Plato claims, agents in question might have been ignorant about what they were doing. Or, it may be the case that agents change their values after performing the action and begin to regret what they did in the past.

Alleged cases of akrasia may also be cases in which the appetitive portion of the soul overrides the rational portion of the soul (this is the Vis-ceral Account). This suggestion appears to be what Plato claims in the Repub-lic. But we should never conclude, Plato insists, that any agent ever chooses in favor of an option that it believes to be inferior or over which the agent had the ability and occasion to refrain from choosing.

Aristotle, who was the first to use the term akrasia, struggles at length to explain the concept (Nicomachean Ethics, VII.110). Noting that Plato argued for its nonexistence in human behavior, Aristotle argues contrary to Plato, its possibility. We can, he wants to show, behave akratically in a fully intentional manner. Many people, Aristotle argues, who appear to be candidates for akra-sia, are merely impetuous. They routinely perform actions without reasoning about them, and later regret them. Others are morally weak. They reason out their actions, but fail to do what reason dictates. Impetuosity poses little con-ceptual problem.

That a person may end up performing actions that they immediately re-gret when they failed to reason through those actions before performing them is not difficult to imagine. The morally weak are those who require our scruti-ny. Aristotle claims that morally weak akratic agents have limited knowledge of what they are doing. Their knowledge is not utterly effaced as was the case under Platos proposal. Instead, akratic agents are like actors on a stage who repeat lines. They know what they are saying or judging, and to some degree have understanding of their beliefs and attitudes, but somehow fail to grasp their meaning. The cause of the failure, according to Aristotle, is the passions. Aristotles treatment of the morally weak ends up looking similar to Platos discussion of the person ruled by the appetites, despite the fact that Aristotle claimed to be providing a dissimilar account.

In this debate between Plato and Aristotle we see crucial facets of the current work being done on the issue. While we might be tempted to say that akrasia occurs commonly in human behavior, the act of offering an explana-tion for those occurrences might unintentionally explain away the phenome-non. To offer an explanation, such as that akrasia occurs when the passions


overwhelm reason, might be tantamount to stating that, at the moment of hav-ing performed the action, the agent falsely deemed the allegedly akratic action to be superior, not inferior. If this is the explanation given for apparently akrat-ic action, then the explanation appears prima facie to explain away akrasia.

Regardless of the success or failure of attempted models of akrasia, a few things remain constant since Plato and Aristotle wrote: akratic action in-volves judgment and action, and occurs when persons better judgment is not the basis for their action.

The ancient debate continues today, as a large upsurge in literature on akrasia continues to emerge. The literature on the issue tends to be divided between two distinct research projects: the conceptual and the explanatory. On the conceptual side, philosophers have attempted to understand whether the notion of akrasia is itself coherent, and whether this one term akrasia might serve as a blanket phrase for a variety of other related phenomena.

Generally, philosophers acknowledge that the term akrasia ought to be distinguished from other related terms. Alternate phenomena might include accidie, in which judging does not necessarily bring about any desire, weak-ness of will (which involves knowingly giving in to some temptation), com-pulsion (cases in which the agent is not able to do what it wants more), or self-deception (in which an agent manages to believe something which the person believes is not true, and in which the agent intentionally brings about that belief) (Stocker, 1979).

On the explanatory side, philosophers have attempted to show how, giv-en that akrasia is possible, the phenomenon occurs. It is my sense that the bulk of the literature on akrasia appearing in philosophical studies pertains to addressing the conceptual possibility of akrasia, and that relatively little of it explains the phenomenons occurrences.

Conceptually, the literature offers just as much Platonic skepticism about the existence of akrasia as ever. Richard Mervyn Hare (1952) argues that allegedly akratic agents do not truly judge either that the superior but unchosen action is better, or they are not free to do that action. Gary Watson (1977) disputes that while akratic agents might have some epistemic fault, that fault is not akrasia (they may have been in error about what is right or, following Hare, they may not have been free in the first place). But in neither case are agents strictly akratic.

On the other hand, some philosophers who accept the possibility of akratic action might want to explain how such an action occurs. Primarily responding to Hare (1952), Donald Davidson (1970) argues that akratic action occurs when a person judges one thing to be the better of all things consi-dered, as opposed to categorically better. Akrasia is an action contrary to a prima facie all-things-considered judgment, but not against that which is va-lued most, absolutely speaking.

Davidson (ibid.) does not discuss the possibility of being a strict akratic agent, one who acts contrary to what one unconditionally deems superior.


Later (1985), he offers another model attempting to explain just these pheno-mena. According to the later model, Davidson explains strict akratic action by positing the existence of mental partitioning. Other philosophers have rejected strict akrasia, while permitting other versions (Mele, 2001).

Returning to our theories of addiction, we can see that they too appear to follow many of these philosophical intuitions. For example, Rational Choice Theory implicitly rejects the conceptual possibility of akratic action. Follow-ing Gary Becker and Kevin Murphy (1988), the Rational Choice model of addiction presupposes that addiction is not merely the product of irresistible forces, such as the visceral wind that tugs at Aristotles overwhelmed agent in Nicomachean Ethics VII. Instead, addicts make free, informed choices. Pre-supposing the famous (and presently ubiquitous) Rational Choice paradigm, Becker and Murphy suggest that agents might find themselves in a position in which they are aware of the negative consequences of their addictive beha-vior, but they opt in favor of that behavior nonetheless. Such agents would do so because they value the future consequences of actions far less than the rest of us, were the rest of us in their circumstances.

The perplexity of non-addicts when it comes to the evaluation of addicts is that we cannot imagine what it would be like to value the future so little. The Becker and Murphy theory suggests that what differs between those who are addicts and those who are not, are their differing degrees of future dis-counting. Addicts value the future little while non-addicts value the future highly. While they do not explicitly say so, we might be tempted to conclude that their hypothesis concerning the etiology of addiction is that a necessary condition for having an addiction is to have a steep future discount rate.

Future discounting is a standard topic of discussion within behavioral economics, especially in the last fifty years. The concept is simple. Persons have the tendency to discount the value of a good, the farther off it is in the future. For example, while $100 at this moment might be quite valuable to me right now, that same $100 might not be as valuable to me a year from now if I can only receive it in one years time. Analogously, I would likely be more motivated to perform a task to receive that money immediately than I would be motivated to perform the same task to get the same amount of money after a years delay.

If this facile example is indicative of human valuation of future goods, that persons devalue the future would appear to be a common human beha-vior. Behavioral economists claim that not only is this true, but also that no agent is to be praised or blamed for the extent to which they discount the fu-ture. The only prominent philosopher who disagrees with this injunction is John Rawls, in his A Theory of Justice (1973, pp. 274309, sec. 4347). Rawls claims that all future discounting is irrational.

While it is worthwhile to enter into a discussion of this challenging point of Rawls, doing so would be a distraction because behavioral economics has operated largely in contradiction with Rawls position on this issue. I will


therefore follow suit and, for the sake of argument, assume that to praise or blame an agent for the extent to which the agent values the future is inappro-priate. If the assumptions of behavioral economists are true, and the degree of future discounting that an agent happens to have is neither good nor bad, then Becker and Murphys addicts are not proper recipients of the term akrasia. On Becker and Murphys view, agents, including addicts, always do what they judge to be best.

Neither are Becker-Murphy addicts self-deceived. Except for recent de-velopments on the notion of self-deception (Mele, 2001), self-deception is usually construed by philosophers as an intentional behavior that results in the acquisition of a (usually false) belief whose propositional content is mutually contradictory to another belief that the agent also has. For example, if all my evidence leads me to believe that I am a sub-par guitarist, and if I do not de-sire to hold that belief, I may endeavor to believe the oppositethat I am an above-par player. In such a case, I intentionally, though falsely, come to be-lieve something that is in contradiction to another belief I already have. These two conditions for self-deceptionintentionality and contradictiondo not occur in Becker-Murphy addicts. Becker-Murphy addicts believe that opting for drug-usage is best, and might believe based on all available evidence and, at the same time, have no desire to believe otherwise. Becker-Murphy addicts are doing exactly what they most want.

Philosophically, the Becker-Murphy hypothesis has some merits, for there is no doubt that stepping into the waters of akrasia significantly compli-cates matters. This view claims to be able to avoid those waters, perhaps only requiring a straightforward visceral account to do so.

The benefits of avoiding the complexities come at a steep price, because the Becker-Murphy model fails to adequately explain the behavior of addicts. It is implausible to assume that addicts of the kind Becker and Murphy de-scribe exist. Notoriously, addicts are under-informed, deceptive, and frequent-ly engage in denial. One of the problems with the evidence-gathering habits of addicts is that they tend to acquire too little information.

Addicts routinely acknowledge that they desire better lives than they presently have. Many make efforts to overcome their addictionsan effort that would be akratic if Becker and Murphy were right. If the desire to max-imize whatever consequences the agent takes to be best for them had led them to addiction, then attempting to overcome an addiction that a person has just rationally opted for would be to attempt to perform an action contrary to a persons better judgment (assuming that the pre-addiction and post-addiction knowledge base is the same). Therefore, for Becker-Murphy models of addic-tion, recovery would be a species of akrasia.

If we are to claim that addiction is not merely the consequence of irre-sistible visceral forces, and if the avoidance of akrasia in the manner at-tempted by the Rational Choice Theorist is implausible, we appear to be at a


loss to explain addiction. What we need is a scientifically suitable explanation that also manages to incorporate akrasia into its scheme.

These two tasks are what George Ainslie attempts to perform in the de-velopment of his Hyperbolic Discounting Model. The majority of Chapter Two will be dedicated to a discussion of Ainslie, to show how different his explanation is from the others already mentioned, and to probe into the under-lying difficulties within his view. A brief explanation is in order for now.

Ainslie claims that persons chronically suffer from preference reversals. Reversals are not reserved for a few persons with moral or rational failings, but are endemic to the human condition. He conceives human behavior as being deeply akratic, with consistent behavior being a remarkable achieve-ment. Akrasia is the norm, not the exception. He reasons that human agents act according to a future valuation scheme, which necessarily lends itself to irrationality. This is the Hyperbolic Discounting Model. This model, when graphed, shows that the valuation of goods into the future follows a deeply bowed, or hyperbolic, form, instead of a consistent gradual rise.

In the next chapter, I offer a detailed discussion of the genesis of the hyperbolic discount function, but I can give a few introductory remarks here. Given the fundamental equation that every human agent uses in the valuation of any two goodsan inferior good that comes first in time and a superior or greater good that comes laterthe good I presently deem inferior will spike in its valuation, and cross over and above the valuation of the superior good, provided that there is a sufficient amount of time between the acquisition-point of the two goods. The implication is that I will be giving in constantly to nearer rewards.

So, if a person is always predisposed to preference reversals, the person becomes a remarkably good candidate for addictions. If Ainslies model suc-ceeds in plausibly describing human nature, and if that description requires us to presuppose chronically choosing in favor of inferior goods, then we would expect to see human beings making many bad choices, including addictive behaviors. We do see just that. But whether preference reversal alone consti-tutes an account of addiction is a conclusion I will dispute shortly.

Ainslies proposed solution to the problem of preference reversals is to bundle our choices. When we find ourselves at a moment of decision, we must not only think of our choice as having an impact upon the present, but upon an entire set of like choices over time. If an agent believes that giving in to a short-term urge is simultaneously to resolve to give into that urge on every future occasion, the motivation to give in to the urge in the present diminishes. For while the agents preferences may have reversed with regards to the agents present choice, the agents preferences have not yet reversed with re-gards to all of the agents future choices. Viewing the present decision as a de-cision over all similar choices in the future, Ainslie insists, will cause the agent to opt against what in the present is a temporary preference for an inferior good.


When it comes to addictions, bundling agents are not to ask themselves whether to give into temptation on this particular occasion. Instead, agents are to consider whether always to use addictive substances on every occasion. Using them now sets a precedent for always using them; not using them now sets a precedent for never using them. Deciding in this manner is synonymous with bundling according to a rule. Should we do so, we avoid the negative consequences that we would face were we to give in to preference reversals, provided that the moments of preference reversal were ones that would de-prive us of overall utility.

Herein lies what Ainslie takes to be the most problematic portion of his theory. On the one hand, he has proposed bundling as a solution to the prob-lem of hyperbolic discounting and, more specifically, the irrationality that hyperbolic discounting produces. But given that hyperbolic discounting is the status quo of human valuation, how we could ever bring ourselves to valuate in any other manner is not obvious. Even if we were able to do so, Ainslie claims in no uncertain terms, doing so may not be desirable.

For example, if I have a chronic problem with over-spending, I might adopt the following rule: Only use my financial resources to purchase food and to pay bills. In many cases, this would turn out to be a financially advan-tageous rule to follow. I would not be expending my financial resources on goods that I do not need. However, if I were to always follow that rule, I may miss opportunities that all might agree I ought not miss.

If, by way of an absurd example, I were to find a Van Gogh masterpiece at a garage sale with a price tag of one dollar, then following my rule with respect to the Van Gogh painting would be disadvantageous for my overall utility. But in more moderate cases, we could imagine that following the rule could serve to make me compulsive to the rule itself instead of to the utility that the rule was intended to provide. If, for example, it is true that breaking a rule one time will permit me to acquire more happiness than following it, and thereby incur no disutility, and if I know this to be true, I ought to break the rule. Following the rule in such a case would be compulsive.

Here, Ainslies criticism of his solution resembles criticisms of the psy-chology of Kantian deontology (Langton, 1992). Individuals risk valuing rules more than the goods that the rules are intended to produce. If hyperbolic discounting explains addiction, and if bundling is the cure for the irrationali-ties of hyperbolic discounting, it is the possibility, rationality, and desirability of bundling behavior that deserves the most attention. These problems will receive significant treatment beginning in Chapter Three.

Now that we have provisionally explained Ainslies view on akrasia, we are in a position to see how an analysis of self-deception would be illuminat-ing. Obviously, Ainslie considers himself to have made a significant contribu-tion to the literature on akrasia. His theory explains why agents might perform actions that are inconsistent with what they believe to be best for them. I agree that his model does provide a proper explanation for this phenomenon. How-


ever, what Ainslie ignores is the highly unusual epistemic situation in which such an agent would be, and it is to that epistemic condition to which I will turn my attention.

I will be concerned with what Ainsliean akratic agents believe while they are performing their action. I will therefore ignore the problem of impetuosity, which occupies an important role in Aristotles discussion of the concept.

I contend that while engaging in akratic action, agents also engage in self-deception: the agents may come to believe that the akratic action in ques-tion is best for them. This is an understandable deception, for at the time of action, the akratic action is what they prefer.

Abstinent agents who desire to view themselves as rational, but who also believe that at some time in the past they preferred addictive goods, might be led to falsely conclude that they presently value addictive consumption over abstinence. To view themselves as not preferring addictive goods is to admit that their preferences are unstable and irrational. In an effort to fulfill their desire to view themselves as rational, they self-deceptively conclude that they do prefer addictive substances.

Addicts are frequently in the position of suspecting that such a belief is false. Should it be the case that they suspect this, they are in a position to rid themselves of their self-deception. In the next chapters, I will explain just how this would occur given Ainslies system and use my account to resolve the previously mentioned problems in Ainslies work.

3. Overview Chapters Two through Five build toward a defense of bundling as a possible and rational behavior. By understanding the unique nature of the self as found in Ainslies work, we can acquire a new understanding of self-deception. With this view of self-deception in place, I will claim that bundling is none other than recovering from self-deception. Chapter Six uses the previous work of the book to account for moral responsibility for hyperbolically dis-counting agents.

In Chapter Two, I will scrutinize three models of addiction, demonstrat-ing the superiority of Ainslies view. I question whether his is a theory of ad-diction or temptation. I conclude by claiming that adding a meager visceral account to Ainslies model can result in a model of addiction while retaining the core insights of the Hyperbolic Discounting Model.

In Chapter Three, I discuss the nature of the self found in Ainslie. Build-ing on that understanding, I will create a new model of self-deception in Chapter Fourone that meets the demands of the literature that predates it, which also takes seriously the nature of the self that Ainslies model appears to imply. In my model, self-deception is a species of error that resembles ra-tionalization contrary to known evidence. A self-deceiver deceives ones self when the deceiver attempts to rationally accommodate near-past preferences


that the self-deceiver does not presently hold. This is a wholly understandable error to make, when we view ourselves as rational over time.

In Chapter Five, I use my model of the self to show how bundling beha-viors is possible and rational. When agents become aware of their self-deception, they realize they are no longer rational. Absent the agents belief that the agent is rational, the agent no longer needs to create an ex facto justi-fication for unacceptable behavior. Bundling then becomes possible by dis-avowing past preferences.

In Chapter Six, I attempt to show how my model of self-deception and bundling behavior might hold an addict morally responsible. I offer two weak principles. The first is that a person is morally responsible should it be the case that the person not attempt to change something in its life that it believes to be tremendously harmful. The second is that addicts are to be blamed should they continue to attempt to implement a strategy that has repeatedly failed in the past.

I will begin by revisiting the visceral account, Rational Choice Theory, and Ainslies model of addiction in a more rigorous manner. My objective is to show why Ainslies model deserves such attention not only in philosophy proper, but also in behavioral economics.

Two

ADDICTION FROM THE BEHAVIORAL ECONOMISTS POINT-OF-VIEW

1. Introduction

In Chapter One, I portrayed different behavioral economic models in virtue of the ways in which they would respond to some basic philosophical questions. These models have been created not so much against a philosophical back-drop, but against the backdrop of development in the empirical and behavioral sciences. In this chapter, I will scrutinize more closely these models of addic-tion to bolster my contention that George Ainslies model not only is the most promising one for philosophers, but also for decision theorists, economists, and behavioral scientists.

I also argue that Ainslie more adequately describes the phenomenon of addiction than any other available account. But even though Ainslie may cap-ture the features of addiction better than any other available alternative, I will claim that he does not capture the phenomenon completely. His model is ca-pable of explaining why agents might acquiesce to temptation at any single choice-node (Ainslie and Monterosso, 2003b), but it fails to show how that temptation might become an addiction. I will propose that adding a visceral feature to his accountadaptation to the object of temptationwill render the sufficient and necessary conditions for having an addiction.

I will first display the models, and then discuss the link between Ain-slies model and addiction proper.

2. Models of AddictionA Deeper Look The term akrasia tends to be used almost exclusively by philosophers, not economists. But that is not to suggest that economists have nothing to say about the concept. Among the many close analogies to the concept of akrasia within behavioral economics is the problem of the money pump. The pre-sumption among economists is that to be subject to a money pump is to be irrational. The correlation between addiction and money pumps is strong, and because the literature on money pumps is vast, introducing the concept will be worthwhile to clarify the behavioral economists general attitude toward this decisional faux pas.

In a money pump situation, an agent has inconsistent preferences. For example, the agent may prefer B to A, and C to B. At the same timeinconsistentlythe agent may also prefer A to C. More simply, a chooser may


presently prefer A to B and then flip-flop later by preferring B to A. In either case, if the said agent were to be presented with the right kinds of choices, the agent would be in a remarkably undesirable predicament.

Imagine a preference-holder attempting to lose weight and an entrepre-neur, who buys and sells food, always buying low and selling high. The dieter has fattening food in the pantry, but desires to buy more healthy cuisine. The entrepreneurial friend offers to buy the fattening food for pennies on the dollar, and to sell healthy food to the dieter at regular price. The entrepreneur sells the food at full price, but is willing, for the sake of kindness, to buy fattening food back at a discount. This gesture is, in itself, not worrisome. The dieter might justifiably view this exchange to be a better deal than buying healthy food and throwing out the fattening food, for they recoup some money for the food the dieter no longer planned to eat.

So far, nothing is amiss. The dieter is merely maximizing utility (the di-eter presently prefers healthy food to fattening food, and found a way to avoid losing the entire initial investment in the fattening food). However, after be-ginning to eat healthy food, the dieter may realize that only trans-fatty acids provide a feeling of satiation or fullness.

The entrepreneur in this case might expect this preference reversal. Knowing that the entrepreneurial friend has all of the food the dieter enjoys, the dieter might buy back the original fatty food. The entrepreneur only sells food at full price. So, to buy the food that is now desired, our defunct dieter must again pay full price for the same food previously purchased at full-price. Because of inconsistent preferences, our dieter is in the same position as the beginning of this exercise, but with less money.

The victim in this model is likely to be a victim in not just one case, but in many. The person in question is in a position to be repeatedly pumped for scarce resources.

We can obtain the same result in more complex or simpler cases. The only requirement is a set of inconsistent preferences. If I prefer black to blue, red to black, and blue to red, I am in the same money pump situation. Given the first two preferences (black over blue and red over black), logically I should value red most. However, the third preference states that I prefer blue over red. An entrepreneurial friend might be in a position to seize upon this inconsistency and exploit it to my disadvantage.

Money pump susceptibility is a hallmark sign of irrationality, for it plac-es individuals in a decisional situation in which they end up where they be-gan, but with fewer resources than when they started. Whether the specific scenario involves money or other bearers of value is irrelevant. This type of situation is one doomed to do less (frequently far less) than maximize utility.

The similarities between addiction and money-pump scenarios are patent. Addicts might resolutely disavow using their addictive substances today, only to take up their addictions tomorrow, consequently depleting their resources. The following day, they may disavow their drug again, finding themselves in

Addiction from the Behavioral Economists Point-of-View 15

the same position they were in two days ago, but with fewer resources. The preference reversals that addicts appear to exhibit strongly resemble the econ-omists money pump. The dieter ends up in the same position with less money; the addict ends up in the same position (or worse) with less money and other bearers of value, all because of inconsistent preferences. As a result, the strong presumption is that addiction is irrational.

A. Becker and Murphys Rational Choice Theory of Addiction Without exception, Rational Choice theories of human behavior take money pump situations to be a serious threat to rationality. The Rational Choice Theorist of addiction is therefore strongly motivated to describe addicts in such a way as to exclude them from the possibility of being deemed victims of money pumps. In the end, the analysis of addicts under Rational Choice models may make addicts appear to be quite different from non-addicts. But that is no theoretical threat, and it is no money pump. So it is with Becker and Murphys Rational Choice Addiction (1988). In explaining addiction under a Rational Choice framework, Becker and Murphy propose two fundamental principles that they suggest apply to addiction cases (sometimes called prop-erties of addictive engagement). Ole-Jrgen Skog (1999) succinctly describes Becker and Murphys view:

Tolerance: The more the consumer has consumed in the past, the less instantaneous welfare (pleasure) the consumer obtains from a given present consumption level. (p. 173) Reinforcement: The increase in instantaneous well-being that persons obtain by increasing present consumption by one unit is larger, the more the persons have consumed in the past. Greater past consumption in-creases the desire for present consumption. (Ibid.)

Becker and Murphy (1988, pp. 681689) discuss these principles in

greater detail, making three assumptions: that instantaneous utility from a certain consumption level depends upon both past and present use; the con-sumer considers present and future effects of consumption (and all present and future effects), when calculated according to that consumers personal discount rate; and the consumer will maximize utility. Given these assump-tions, together with the two principles concerning addiction cases (tolerance and reinforcement), we see how the vicious cycle of addiction arises.

The consumption of addictive substances has biological and psychologi-cal effects. Biologically, the amount a person has consumed in the past to obtain some level of welfare must increase to yield the same gratification. Using economic terms, the greater the consumption capital acquired, the more consumptive capital an agent needs to acquire to arrive at the same level of


welfare. This is tolerance. Alone, tolerance does not yield addiction. Still, an agent has no good reason to opt in favor of consumption, especially given that a greater cost is required to receive the same benefit as in the past. For exam-ple, I may have a taste for French brie. If, however, a trade tariff were to be imposed on imported French brie which has the effect of making the price increase dramatically, then I will likely reduce or eliminate my consumption of it, since for me, having brie is not worth the higher price.

Consequently, reinforcement is added as a principle governing addic-tion. It states that a persons desire for consumption becomes greater the more the person has acquired a stockpile of consumptive capital. Consuming some-thing pleasurable in the past causes me to desire it more strongly in the present. These two properties are interrelated. Tolerance implies that increas-ing consumption is needed over time, and reinforcement causes increased usage to be desired over time.

A helpful economic term to illustrate the need to add reinforcement to tolerance is price elasticity, which refers to the extent to which the raising or lowering of a price for a good has an effect on the demand for that good. Applied to addictions, Becker and Murphys two principles hold that addicts demand for addictive substances is remarkably price inelastic. The increase in price does not reduce their demand for consumption.

For example, alcoholics know that the best way to recover from a han-gover is to consume an alcoholic drink. When they do this, reinforcement and tolerance have kicked in. They desire to do this to avoid the pain of a han-gover; their tolerance for alcohol is the cause of their behavior. In the present, drinking may occur for two reasons: to get up to some minimal level of utility and to achieve some additional amount of utility. As time goes on, ad-dicts must increase their intake to maintain a level of normalcy, causing a vicious cycle. The price that this behavior exacts upon their lives does not diminish the demand for consumption.

Becker and Murphy add to these two principles a feature of classical Rational Choice Theory called future discounting. I take it as a holy grail of Rational Choice Theory to discover one consistent rate of discounting held generally by persons. But no such rate has been discovered (and the consen-sus appears to be that attempting to discover one discount rate is folly). We are left with the messiness of differing rates of discounting. Following Skogs (1999) methodology, let us consider two cases: one case of high and another of low future discounting.

If a person discounts the future highly, then engaging in a series of choices that leads to addiction is rational. A person who starts out abstinent and wishes to consider using alcohol will discount the future enough that the present benefits of using outweigh the future negative consequences of doing so. Because of the heavy discounting rate, when their satisfied preferences are tallied, usage is rationally proscribed.


However, if a person begins making decisions with a low future discount rate (they value the future highly), the opposite occurs. Such a person will see that its just not worth it, because the total of preferences satisfied, in the end, are not as great as abstinence. A person who makes this judgment does not begin to use.

Presently, we have only discussed either very high levels of discounting or very low levels of discounting. According to classical Rational Choice Theory, either discounter meets the demands of rationality. The person who discounts highly lives by the dictate carpe diem, while the one with low dis-count rates is willing to make only modest short-term gains for the purpose of potentially garnering larger long-term gains. Both appear to be consistent in that neither makes a choice inconsistent with what they do or will desire. Nei-ther suffers akrasia and neither is shortsighted.

What about the intermediate discountera discounter somewhere be-tween heavy and light discounting? Skog (1999) claims that such a person faces a cruel twist of fate. Intermediate discounting leads the agent to opt in favor of usage. Yet, once the agent uses to such a point that it realizes that complete abstinence would lead to significant short-term harm (such as pain-ful withdrawal), the principle of reinforcement makes it too late for the agent to change. The agent either must accept that it is myopic, wait for a miracle (such as outside help), or resign to its state.

I question the correctness of Skogs account of the intermediate discoun-ter. Even here, no akrasia is presentonly a case of close call. The hedonic tabulation narrowly results in opting in favor of consumption.

An agent who discounts heavily becomes myopic, perhaps knowingly so, and yet remains apathetic concerning their myopia. One who discounts little is a shrewd planner, never myopic. An intermediate discounter is likely to be unhappily addicted, albeit willing to be addicted. Given that rationality is a function of satisfying preferences, persons at both extremes are rational; only those in between are in peril of being irrational. I suspect that even the intermediate discounter would be rational on Becker and Murphys view.

Becker and Murphys model has met with some disapproval (Skog, 2000, pp. 13091314). The primary criticism offered against this view of ad-diction is that while it may pose a case of bona fide rational addiction, it is not one that is likely to have occurred. Becker and Murphys addicts maximize utility, and their agents know everything possible to know about drug usage. Although they have complete knowledge, they opt in favor of addictive beha-vior because of the steep nature of their discount curves. Obviously, this sce-nario is not likely to have occurred.

Athanasios Orphanides and David Zervos (1995) have attempted to as-suage this concern by offering a probabilistic version of the Becker-Murphy model, claiming that addicts willingly gamble: they bet that they will not have to face undesirable consequences of their behavior. But this take on Rational Choice addiction is also inadequate, and for roughly the same reasons cited


with respect to the Becker-Murphy theory. While we may be able to imagine persons taking informed risks with regards to the consumption of addictive goods, the fact that we can imagine such a case does not imply that risk-taking is the source of addictive behavior.

The Rational Choice theorist is faced with further difficulties. Becker and Murphy, and Orphanides and Zervos have difficulty explaining the ubiq-uity of regret among addicts. Let me grant, contrary to what I have argued immediately above, that Rational Choice Theory does offer a consistent and plausible account of the consumption choices of the person who never uses addictive substances and of the person who always uses addictive substances. Becker and Murphys explanation as to the difference between these two cas-es would be that the non-consumer was rational because their decision not to consume was the consistent result of their discount rate. The consumer of addictive substances would also be rational because their choice to consume was also consistent with their future discount rate. Or, following the probabil-istic account, the decision not to consume addictive substances would be ra-tional for the agent who has a low degree of risk tolerance.

A choice to consume addictive substances would be rational for the agent with a high degree of risk tolerance. But neither of these accounts is able to adequately explain the common predicament of a person who consis-tently chooses to consume addictive substances, acquires overwhelming in-ductive evidence as to the likely negative consequences of usage, and regrets this state of affairs. While I cannot claim to offer a complete exposition on the nature of regret, persons who regret past choices appear to wish that they had chosen differently. However, if we rely upon the Rational Choice paradigm and bring Becker and Murphys two principles to bear on addiction cases, addict-agents would not regret the past because they would believe that every choice-node at which they consumed addictive substances was a choice-node at which they maximized utility.

Notice that the regret agents experience does not resemble simple forms of regret, such as the regret that persons experience when they come to believe that they could have done better, had they chosen differently. In addiction cas-es, many addicts believe that the problem is not merely a missed opportunity, but a matter of preference-sets that they wish they did not have. The regret blends with self-loathing. It does not help to construe this situation probabilis-tically. For in the common case of a long-term consumer of addictive sub-stances, who has overwhelming evidence attesting to the likely inability to avoid future disutility, we would have to make the implausible claim that such agents failed to be aware of the evidence of great risk.

An additional weakness of the Becker-Murphy theory is their construal of consumption capital. The mere fact that an agent has acquired a stockpile of consumptive capital is supposed to explain why an addict is motivated to acquire instantaneous utility. However, as Skog has pointed out, remembering ones first cigarette provides ample evidence that the motive to continue to


use may not be purely attributable to the notion of consumption capital. An addicts first experience with an addictive substance might not have been a good one.

Neither can Becker and Murphy explain the ubiquity of relapse. After being removed from the addictive drug for some time, we would expect, be-cause the consumption capital has diminished to zero, that former users would have no rational reason for taking up the addiction again. After all, such per-sons now have all the inductive evidence they need to be aware of the real consequences of their addictive behavior. Unfortunately, addicts do return to their addictions. A mere discount rate does not adequately explain this phe-nomenon. While the Becker-Murphy model might demonstrate the rationality of hypothetical addicts, it fails to be proven in known cases.

I should be careful, though, not to be resoundingly skeptical. Becker and Murphys work on rational addiction serves an important role in the develop-ing behavioral economic literature. Specifically, it presents one thesis con-cerning what the Rational Choice theorist ought to say about the issue. To that end, whether what the thesis implies is true or false is inconsequential. In-stead, being able to handle anomalous cases is a valuable contribution to the ongoing debate concerning the ability of the Rational Choice paradigm.

B. Ainslies Hyperbolic Discounting Model

The work of George Ainslie offers a robust model of addictive behavior, ex-plaining how people acquire addictions, how addicts conduct their addictive lifestyle, and how addicts (might) rid themselves of addiction. Because Ain-slies view is largely a rejection of key components of Rational Choice addic-tion (and RCT), elucidating how the Becker and Murphy model differs from Ainslies view will be worthwhile. Keep in mind that Ainslie views the Hyper-bolic Discounting Model not as an exclusive or total account of addiction, but as an account that resolves the central difficulties of self-defeating behavior.

What the Becker-Murphy model presupposes, as does Rational Choice theory, is that choosers are rational. According to this family of theories (RCT and all its applications), to be rational is to have consistent and relatively sta-ble preferences, to deliberate on the basis of those preferences in such a way that opting for the best is selected, then to do the best thing. The Rational Choice construal of addiction would reject the notion that we continually re-verse our preferences over short periods of time.

Symbolically, these presuppositions are demonstrated by appeal to a ba-sic utility function that presupposes a consistent future-discounting rate. Be-ginning with Paul Samuelson (1937) and continuing today, the Rational Choice theorist uses the following exponential discounting function:

(1) vi = Aie-kDi


This equation claims that the value one places on a good is equal to the amount of utility it provides, discounted per delay. While I use this form of the equation, other acceptable ways to state it have been developed. For an historical analysis of twentieth-century decision theory aimed at showing the development of such a discounting function, see Joseph Heath (2003). His version of the equation, framed in the more formal notation is:

(2) v(a)=c(a) + ()k-1 uk(a)

where v(a) is the value an agent places on a course of action, c(a) is the fun-damental choice disposition, ()k-1 is the discounting rate and, thus, ()k-1 uk(a) is the present value one places on a delayed course of action.

When used to compare the valuations of two hypothetical goods of dif-ferent sizes, a graph might look like Figure 1, where the y-axis represents the value a chooser places on a good, and the x-axis represents the distance in time that the chooser is from acquiring that good (we could also describe it as delay). The dashed line represents the value attributed to consuming a non-addictive good, and the solid line represents the value attributed to consuming the addictive substance.

Figure 1. Exponential Discount Curves for Two Hypothetical Goods

Furthermore, assume that the intersection of the two axes represents the point at which we first study the agents choices (as opposed to the first point in time of the agents existence). Finally, assume that the consumptive choice will be made some time just after t2.


The Becker-Murphy exponential valuation curve (Figure 1), represents stable, unified preferences over time. Because of time discounting, when the agent is far away from the moment of decision, the agent values both goods quite lowly. As time draws closer, the valuation begins to rise steadily. So at t1, the agent already values what, at t2 (the moment of, or just before, the deci-sion), the agent will value thenin this case, the value of consuming the good represented by the solid line more than the good represented by the dashed line. When t2 arrives, based on former preferences (which have been stable throughout time), the agent continues to opt in favor of the solid lines good, instead of the dashed lines good. The agent therefore opts for the good represented by the solid line. Agents who valuate according to exponential curves will generally have more stable preferences than those who valuate the same goods hyperbolically. In reference to the simplified example in Figure 1, the agent always has, and always will, value the good represented by the solid line.

This consistency will not always be the case under exponential valua-tion functions. Other cases will exist in which the two lines cross even for the most judicious choosers. The point, though, is that the exponential discounter will have generally stable preference-sets (especially, as I will demonstrate, when compared with hyperbolic discounters).

The central insight of Ainslie, though, is to propose that agents do not use the valuation function that gives rise to the graph found in Figure 1. Instead, agents use a utility function that gives rise to a different sort of preference structure. He begins with the work of Richard Herrnstein. In what follows, I will recount that history based on Rudy Vuchinich and Nick Heathers (2003) concise restatement.

Richard Herrnstein (1961; 1970) proposed what he called a matching law. Drawing on animal experiments, he noted that the responses that ani-mals in his laboratory emitted matched the reinforcement available to them (the more the reinforcement, the more the behavior, and vice versa). He sum-marized his findings in the following equation:

(3) 2

1

2

1

FR

FR

B

B=

B1 and B2 are the responses allocated to option one and to option two, and FR1 and FR2 represent the reinforcement received from options one and two. What this equation states is that behavior is distributed in direct proportion to the frequency of reinforcement given for that behavior.

A. Charles Catania (1963) uses Herrnsteins insights to analyze the same phenomena, adjusted for amounts of food (not frequency), resulting in the following equation:


(4) 2

1

2

1

AR

AR

B

B=

Catania shows that behavior allocation is directly proportional to the

amount of reinforcement given. Shin-Ho Chung and Richard Herrnstein (1967), conducting similar ex-

periments on delay, endorse the following equation:

(5) 1

2

2

1

DR

DR

B

B=

In this case, the behavior allocated is inversely proportional to the delay

of reinforcement. Ainslies insight is to combine these findings into a simple generalized

equation. Combining (4) and (5) yields:

(6)

=1

2

2

1

2

1

D

D

A

A

B

B

Simplified, (6) yields the following utility function:

(7) i

ii

D

AV =

However, equation (7) alone is lacking. It would imply: any immediate reinforcer, no matter how small, would be preferred to any delayed reinforcer, no matter how large, and no matter how brief the delay . . . [and it implies t

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