So far, about all we’ve managed is a tentative stab at defining "power" and (at least indirectly) "politics." We’re not done there, but now let’s set that toy aside and turn to a related area of play: decision making.
Politics involves decisions, so the study of politics must, as some point, concern itself with the processes through which decisions are made, the motivations behind those decisions, and the forces that constrain decision making.
Let’s begin with decision making processes. Just how do we make decisions about the important aspects of our lives? The usual model we set up to think about decision making involves what we call rationality. That is, rationality assumes that a decision is made only after an individual has evaluated all possible options, assigning to each a relative value or weight, and has selected from this array of possible choices the one most beneficial (or least harmful) to her.
Here’s an example: Suppose you decide you actually want to complete this political science course, and that you even want to try to pass it. Obviously each of these decisions assumes a prior rational choice: why complete the class? Why try to pass it? Well, the first decision may be driven primarily by the structure of the university’s general education requirement or some other graduation goal that you can satisfy through this course. Naturally, then, in order to satisfy that goal, you’d have to both take and pass the course. See how this works? Well, it gets a bit deeper.
If you’re going to try to pass the course, you must decide exactly how you’re going to accomplish this task. For example, do you do all the required reading, or do you try to sneak by without cracking the book? How do you decide?
Try "doing the math." How much time will it take you to get through the required readings? And, of course, how much effort? Well, how fast do you read? What is your "level of comprehension" when you do read? How many other courses are you taking? How many other things do you want to try to do outside of class?
You can probably think of any number of other "variables" that might somehow affect your decision. The point here is that, in order to evaluate possible options or decisions, you first need to gather as much relevant information as is practically possible. In its abstract, theoretical form, rationality assumes perfect information; the calculus of costs and benefits (what you give up and what you gain) is made by evaluating all possible options, based on all necessary information. The rational thinker will gradually strip away possible options, all the while calculating which of the remaining possible courses of action will yield the most gains while reducing necessary costs of the decision or action.
Under the theoretical model of rationality, your choice of how to approach the course might work something like this:
Choice: To read or not to read?
Option one: Read everything and read often
Cost Benefit
Time More information
Energy Greater security
(i.e., don’t worry: you read!)
Option Two: Skim…once
Cost Benefit
Time, although less
More free time
than option #1
Energy, also less than #1
Better than not reading at all!
Less security than #1
More time for other classes than #1
Option Three: Book? What book?
Cost Benefit
Risk: can you still pass? MUCH free time!
Might have to cheat to pass
But, think of all that time!
Well, which is the best option? Option #1certainly involves the greatest outlay of time and energy. Option #3 won’t cost you much of anything in time. And, although cheating and cramming both take lots of energy, generally that expenditure doesn’t come until, say, the night before the final. On the other hand, Option #2 seems to "split the difference" between costs and benefits. It may be your most "rational" choice, given the possibilities. Most students tend to gravitate to Option #2. Which, of course, makes my job somewhat more difficult…
Anyway, in the above scenario, we obviously did not have what the theorists call "perfect information." Some classes are tougher than others; likewise some texts. Without knowing just how much of the text contents is going to show up on an exam, can we really make a reliable calculation about what to do with the book? What if we’re in the middle of flu season? Planning to stay healthy doesn’t necessarily guarantee good health, and that last minute cramming you’re going to have to do if you don’t read the book? Well its tough to do when you’re flat on your back with a fever, chills, and loose bowels. How can you "know" whether or not you’re going to get the flu? Take a flu shot? That would give you more information.
I think you see the point. Our calculations, while arguably rational, are not based on perfect information. Instead, we are employing what is called bounded rationality. In a situation of bounded rationality–far more common than the abstract requiring perfect information–we simply make due with the best information we can gather and the subsequently limited array of possible choices. As if you really needed yet another term to remember, another word for this sort of bounded decision making is "satisficing." All we’re really talking about here is the process of decision making where the information available is inadequate, either because it is not the right information, or because it is not reliable.
Bounded rationality, or satisficing, can explain decisions made in the midst of conditions that preclude the gathering and measuring of the right kind of information. But what, then, would we call "irrational?" Isn’t it possible under this model to make irrational decisions? It must be, since so many people seem to do it!
Irrationality would assume a decision is made which, in fact, is not in the best interest of the individual involved. If someone makes a decision that is later proven to be harmful to her, and if that decision was made in order to avoid or minimize harm, we might evaluate that decision as irrational. If for example, a student chose to throw away her text, not attend lectures, and not take exams (in order to maximize the benefits of free time), she would probably fail the course. This would likely involve retaking the class, or adding an analogous course, or dropping out of school, each of which might cause harm far more excessive than the benefits enjoyed from spending less time dealing with course work.
Why, though, would anyone be "stupid" enough–that is, irrational enough–to make a decision that would cause more harm than benefit? The answer lies, at least in part, in the nature of rational decision making. If rationality requires information, a decision made in the absence of that information might well prove irrational to the decision maker. If, for example, the student choosing the "blow off" the course work did not really understand that she could fail the course, with ensuing consequences, she might well make a decision that, in the final analysis, would prove harmful, hence "irrational."
It is the absence of necessary information that is often the culprit when this sort of irrational decision making occurs. What is typically explained away as "stupid" or "self-destructive" behavior may often be merely the irrationality borne of insufficient information. This is especially true when we examine many of the political decision made by Americans when they venture out to vote.
How often do we see people support a candidate for elective office even though many of the subsequent actions of that candidate seem to cause harm to the people who supported that candidate? Woodrow Wilson ran successfully for president in 1916 on a pledge that he would keep the United States out of war; of course, by 1918 we were involved in one of the most brutal wars of the last century. We might argue that the voters were not irrational but that they were deceived. But the fact remains: a decision to vote for Wilson with the intention of keeping the US out of a European war can be argued to have harmed many of the people who may have supported Wilson in his candidacy.
A more contemporary example might be the decision to support George Bush for president in 1988. Although that decision, like the one Americans made in 1916, involved more than a single issue, most polling data from the period suggest that a significant proportion of Bush’s electoral support came from people who believed him when he said: "Read my lips! No new taxes!" Again, the Bush voters might (and many did) cry "foul!" But the fact that Bush appeared to have deceived his supporters (in fact, as with Wilson and the war, Bush’s tax woes were much more complex than mere "deception") does not gainsay the fact that, as a result, support for Bush as an expression of opposition to tax increases appears irrational.
This is why information is so important to rational decision making. The calculus of a rational decision involves the ability to predict the consequences of the decision. Whenever we try to measure possible costs and benefits, we are weighing what we know against what we think most likely to occur as a consequence of our decision. Where we lack sufficient information, we are more likely to make bad predictions; hence, to act against our own self-interest. So, anything, whether an individual, a group, and institution, or a government, that interferes with our ability to acquire the information necessary to make sound, rational choices, interferes with our ability to protect our own interest.
I wonder if this is why people get so frustrated by campaigns? More later.