As an undergraduate I participated in a faculty-student debate about artificial intelligence. While the details of the debate have faded from my non-artificial mind, I vividly recall one exchange. The professor on the opposing side claimed I believed in free will because I wanted to take credit for my successes. Filled with the pride of youth, I replied with something to the effect of “of course, they are my successes.” I also recall showing some small wisdom by adding “my failures are also mine.” This was probably my first attempt at reflecting on the extent to which I was responsible for my successes and failures. This got me thinking about success and failure in general and not just the specifics of my own victories and defeats.
Not surprisingly, I have thought about this over the years, often in the context of teaching. For example, students who do well say things like “I earned an A” while students who do poorly typically say things like “the professor failed me.” At the start of each semester, at least one student will ask me if I fail students. My reply, which I make with a smile, is always “No. People fail themselves. I merely record their failure.” I follow that by saying that students have every chance to succeed and that I will do my best to ensure that they get the grade they earn. As might be imagined, being a teacher does tend to get a person thinking about who is responsible for the success and failures of students.
The matter of responsibility for success (and failure) extends far beyond the classroom. Way back in July 2012 a speech by President Obama set off a battle between Democrats and Republicans. The key part of Obama’s speech is as follows: “…Look, if you’ve been successful, you didn’t get there on your own.… If you were successful, somebody along the line gave you some help. There was a great teacher somewhere in your life. Somebody helped to create this unbelievable American system that we have that allowed you to thrive. Somebody invested in roads and bridges. If you’ve got a business – you didn’t build that. Somebody else made that happen.”
Some Republicans claimed Obama believed business owners owe all their success to others (especially the state) but the most plausible interpretation is that he claimed people who are successful in business owe some of their success to others, including the state.
Mitt Romney (he was famous once), criticized Obama at the time but had presented a similar view about success back in 2002: “You Olympians, however, know you didn’t get here solely on your own power. For most of you, loving parents, sisters or brothers encouraged your hopes. Coaches guided, communities built venues in order to organize competitions. All Olympians stand on the shoulders of those who lifted them. We’ve already cheered the Olympians, let’s also cheer the parents, coaches and communities.”
As with Obama, the most plausible interpretation of Romney’s remarks is that he claimed athletes who made it to the Olympics owe some of their success to others not that they owed all their success to others.
These claims made by Obama and Romney about success in business and sports are intuitively plausible. Obviously, people do not appear as grown, educated adults ex nihilo via the power of their own will. Less obviously, but still rather obviously, business owners do not create their business out of nothing. To use a silly example, a business owner obviously does not invent commerce. In the case of Olympic athletes, they obviously do not just appear at the games with no support or assistance from others.
The interesting question here is not “do people owe some of their success (and failures) to others?” but “to what extent do people owe their success (and failures) to others?” Making this discussion manageable does require making assumptions that can (and should) be challenged. I will be assuming that people can have meaningful agency and that the universe is not strictly deterministic or entirely random. As an illustration, consider a prize drawing after a 5K race. For those not familiar with such events, some races feature the usual earned awards (what the runners get for running well) and a random prize drawing. Interestingly, people often applaud as loudly when people win a random prize as they do for people who earn a trophy.
In a deterministic universe it makes little sense to speak of meaningful success or failure. Such a universe can be seen as a rigged prize drawing. If I “win” a prize because it is determined that I will win (that is, it is rigged) then I have not really succeeded and the others have not really failed—there is no victory, there is no defeat.
The same holds true for a completely random universe. If I “win” a prize because my number is pulled by chance, I have not succeeded and the others have not failed. Things have just happened by chance.
Success and failure, then, would thus seem to assume that the agent has a meaningful role in the outcome. Going back to the prize drawing, while I would not have succeeded by “winning” either a fixed or random drawing, I could succeed by winning a trophy in the 5K by my efforts. Naturally, the nature of this agency in even something as apparently straightforward as a 5K race is a mystery. However, for the sake of the discussion that will follow in additional essays, I must assume this mysterious agency. After all, I want to think I earned all those trophies, and I am obligated to accept the disgrace of my failures.
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