Greed Masquerading as Need
Daniel Gilbert writing about the emotional pain on discovering that you have been defrauded, at Stumbling on Happiness, says:
"It was 1997, and the man who was crouched on the sidewalk at 68th and Broadway in New York City was one of the most pathetic souls I'd ever seen. His limbs were twisted in what appeared to be arthritic agony and tears were streaming down his face. "Please," he whimpered. "Please, somebody help me."
Most passers-by did what they were named for, but my wife and I stopped. The man looked up. "Please," he sobbed. "I just want to go home." My hand needed no guidance from my brain as it reached into my wallet and extracted $10. "Thank you," he said as I handed him the money. "Thank you so much." My wife and I mumbled some embarrassed words and walked on.
We hadn't gone a block when she tugged my sleeve. "Maybe we should have gotten him into a cab," she said. "He could barely stand up. He might need help. We should go back to see." My wife is the patron saint of lost kittens and there is no arguing, so we went back to see. And what we saw was our horribly crippled friend walking briskly and happily up 68th Street, opening the door to a late-model car, getting in and driving away after what was apparently a short day of theatrical work.
I know two things now that I didn't know then.
First, I now know that my hand did what human hands were designed to do. Research suggests that we are hard-wired with a strong and intuitive moral impulse -- an urge to help others that is every bit as basic as the selfish urges that get all the press. Infants as young as 18 months will spontaneously comfort those who appear distressed and help those who are having difficulty retrieving or balancing objects. Chimpanzees will do the same, though not so reliably, which has led scientists to speculate about the precise point in our evolutionary history at which we became the "hypercooperative" species that out-nices the rest.
The second thing I know now that I didn't know then is that this was the most damaging crime I had ever experienced. Like most residents of large cities, I'd been a victim before -- of burglary once, of vandalism several times. But this was different. The burglars and vandals had taken advantage of my forgetfulness ("Why didn't I double lock the door?") and taught me to be better.
But the actor on 68th Street had taken advantage of my helpfulness and taught me to be worse. The hand that had automatically reached for my wallet had been slapped, and once slapped was twice shy. I've never again given money to a stranger without scrutinizing him for the signs that distinguish suffering from its imitation. And because I don't know what those signs are, I typically just walk by." (my emphasis)
Gilbert's personal observation about the damage con criminals cause is consistent with every interview I have had with my own clients. The pain of being forced to reconsider social bonds at every economic transaction is far worse the we ordinarily imagine. We heal from bruises, we replace lost property. But to be forced outside of society's natural bonds for no reason other than a chance encounter with a psychopath is one cruel cut.
