Playing the Game

August 6, 2012

Martin Seligman, of the University of Pennsylvania, has popularized the notion and power of “self-talk” in his work, most particularly in Learned Optimism. What we tell ourselves informs our behavior. He also talks about “authentic happiness,” and how to achieve it.

I’ve also been fascinated by the work of Dan Gilbert at Harvard, who maintains that “synthetic happiness” (created by how we explain events) can lead to greater contentment than genuine happiness (an anniversary or victory). Rationalizing that “The car accident is the best wake up call I’ve ever had,” can actually be quite positive, according to his research.

In considering how we relate to our jobs, our lives, our relationships, and our self-esteem, these traits are apparently applicable to entire societies and communities. For example, in this country we believe that Lance Armstrong is a legendary cyclist, whom the French are attacking for illegal doping because they are jealous and unhappy about Americans winning the Tour de France. Yet the American media was quick to question the victories of a Chinese swimmer in the Olympics because of her incredible speed (even faster for a length of the pool than an American male star). She was tested and no drug traces were found.

Mark McGuire’s home run production remains in the record books of baseball, even though he used artificial means to increase his performance. Yet how is that different from the thousands of pitchers who have snuck in illegal pitches over a hundred years without being caught. (An illegal substance on the ball—the metaphoric “spitball”—can create bizarre curves and twists in the trajectory.) Why are we appalled that the Koreans wanted to purposely lose at badminton to gain a better medal route, but that it’s okay to steal the opposing team’s signals or playbook in football?

When I was much younger and we’d go to the Meadowlands in Secaucus, New Jersey to bet on the trotters, we were convinced that the mob had fixed the races. But we were contenting ourselves with trying to bet on which horses had been chosen to win, simply another form of gambling, not based on horse talent but on criminal talent.

When we assume that we win based on talent and pluck and the others win because of state-mandated training and massive funding, we’re kidding ourselves. We don’t hold the moral high ground. The U.S. boxing rankings are as fixed and manipulated as those of professional wrestling, which gleefully admits it’s a fraud. Team players try to hide their mistakes, when called incorrectly, from the eyes of the officials and cameras. We’re merely talking about degrees.

We need to adjust our self-talk, and refrain from creating synthetic happiness on the basis of believing that we are righteous and celibate in our honesty in every game, and the other side, if they win, has bribed officials, cheated about their athletes, or used some unfair leverage.

The same holds true in life. It’s bad when you believe you’re lucky and the other guy is good, which is Gilbert’s point. But it’s no better when you believe when you lose it’s only because the other guy cheated, and that’s my point.