Dwight: Let's explore why people might give directions to strangers.

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Aiko: Sure—there’s a basic social norm at play: if someone’s lost and asks for help, most people feel a small moral tug to assist, even if they don’t know the person.

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Dwight: Your response is the standard, unthinking, boilerplate answer. I’m challenging that.

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Aiko: Fair—what if it's not about morality at all, but about managing our own discomfort with watching someone else struggle right in front of us?

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Dwight: Let's lay out the facts. Most of us—unless we're in a real hurry—are generally willing to spend a minute helping a stranger find their way, especially if they're visiting our city, right?

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Aiko: Right, and that says something interesting: it’s not just altruism—it might also be about how we see ourselves as hosts, or how we want to be perceived in our own environment.

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Dwight: I'm not denying that sometimes we’re motivated by wanting to see ourselves as good people—or avoiding guilt because others might judge us—but I’m suggesting that we don’t need those motivations to explain why most people would be willing to help anyway.

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Aiko: I see what you mean, Dwight. You're pointing to a kind of default goodwill or cooperative instinct—like the behavior doesn’t require a psychological payoff to be activated. It’s just easy and feels natural.

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Dwight: Those terms—“default goodwill” and “cooperative instinct”—are still too boilerplate and don’t really give us any deeper insight into the behavior.

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Aiko: Fair point. Then maybe we ask: what kind of situation is this, structurally? It’s low-stakes, requires no ongoing relationship, and gives us a chance to be momentarily useful without cost—maybe the key is in that structure, not in personality or morality.

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Dwight: I’m suggesting that two fundamental sources of pleasure, deeply wired into our DNA, are: first, the pleasure of feeling powerful in the world; and second, the pleasure of being recognized by others as powerful and needed.

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Aiko: That’s sharp. Giving directions scratches both itches—it lets you know something someone else doesn’t, and lets them reflect that back to you with attention, gratitude, maybe even admiration.

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Dwight: You’re likely more powerful and knowledgeable about your city than the stranger. Just by asking for help, they’re recognizing and appreciating that power. And when you give them the directions they need, they usually express gratitude for both your ability and your willingness to help. That gives you a quick and easy dopamine rush.

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Aiko: Exactly—it’s a socially sanctioned moment of asymmetry where you get to be the expert, with no threat or competition involved. It's a clean hit of competence and recognition.

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Dwight: Even if you’re someone who normally values your time at, say, a dollar per minute, you’re probably not going to think twice about “giving up” a minute or two just to experience that feeling of power.

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Aiko: Right—because the exchange isn’t economic, it’s psychological. You’re trading time for a fleeting but vivid sense of relevance, and that’s a bargain almost anyone will take.

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Dwight: And there’s likely another benefit wired into us—this deep, inherent pleasure in connecting and bonding with others during interactions, as long as we still feel safe and in control.

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Aiko: Yes, that momentary bond, however brief, taps into something primal—it’s a flash of shared humanity. Even just helping with directions can give you a hit of that connection without any real vulnerability.

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Dwight: I’ve picked a simple, relatable example—giving directions—that’s usually labeled as “unselfish” or “altruistic,” but is actually a selfish, win-win act. The real problem with calling this and similar behaviors “unselfish” is that it reinforces the idea that being a good person means being sacrificial. That creates a mindset where, if there's a conflict between helping others and meeting your own needs, the “good” person sacrifices themselves. That’s a formula for a win-lose world, which ultimately becomes lose-lose.

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Aiko: That cuts deep. Calling it “unselfish” hides the truth: the best social behaviors are often the ones where self-interest and shared benefit overlap. Pretending it’s self-sacrifice trains people to burn out—or resent others for "making" them be good.