Identity Makes Hard Things Rewarding

IDENTITY MAKES HARD THINGS REWARDING

Imagine you’ve made a promise to yourself that every day this week, you’ll get up when your alarm goes off instead of indulging in your usual habit of hitting the snooze button. On Monday morning, the alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m., but you’re exhausted and sorely tempted to renege on your promise. Compare the following two things you could say to motivate yourself to get out of bed:

1. “I shouldn’t break promises to myself.”
2. “I’m the kind of person who follows through on their promises.”

The first statement frames the situation in terms of your obligations. The word shouldn’t suggests a figurative parent or other authority figure, wagging their finger at you. If you get out of bed, it feels grudging, like you’re forcing yourself to do something. By contrast, the second statement frames the situation in terms of your identity. Getting out of bed is now an affirmation of your values, proof that you’re living up to the kind of person you want to be.

The same is true of scout mindset. If you pride yourself on being a scout, it becomes easier to resist the temptation to mock someone who disagrees with you, because you can remind yourself, “I’m not the kind of person who takes cheap shots,” and get a hit of pride. It becomes easier to acknowledge when you make a mistake, because you can tell yourself, “I don’t make excuses for myself,” and feel a rush of satisfaction. And sometimes, those hits of pride or satisfaction are enough to make the scout path more tempting than the soldier path.

Why was Jerry Taylor, the former climate change skeptic, willing to listen to the best arguments against his position and double-check his facts when informed that they were wrong? Identity. He took pride in not being a hack:

Most people who do what I do for a living are not in the business of wrestling with the strongest arguments and strongest advocates for the other side. They’re in the business of being the best spokesmen for their cause within their choir. And I wanted to do something beyond that. And so because I had greater aspirations for myself, it required me to wrestle with the best arguments from the other side.5

After a conversation in his office with a climate activist who challenged his position, Taylor turned to his colleague and said, “Our position just got shredded to pieces.” But his emotional reaction wasn’t despair or bitterness. Instead, this is how Taylor described that moment: “Invigorating.”

Think about how you feel the day after an especially strenuous workout. Your muscles are sore. But doesn’t the soreness, although uncomfortable, also feel kind of satisfying? It’s a reminder that you did something hard that’s going to pay off for you in the long run. If you have a scout identity, that’s how it feels when you realize you have to change your mind. It’s not that it’s easy; it still stings a little to realize that you made a mistake or that the person you’ve been arguing with actually has a point. But that slight sting is a reminder that you’re living up to your standards, that you’re becoming stronger. And so the sensation becomes pleasurable, in the same way sore muscles can be pleasurable for someone making progress toward getting in shape.

The bias toward short-term rewards discussed in chapter 3 helps explain why soldier mindset can be tempting even when openness would serve us better. Identities are a patch for that bug. They change the landscape of emotional incentives, allowing us to feel rewarded in the short term by choices that technically pay off only in the long term.