For example, we have a stipend of three thousand dollars, ostensibly for three coordinators. We only had two over the summer, though, and since we're dramatically underfunded, I proposed that we break the check in the following way: I'll take eight hundred (and we'll take the three hundred we already set aside for seed orders from my chunk), a thousand will get donated back to the community gardens, and the other coordinator will get twelve hundred, because of all the extra work he does. Mind you, I think this is totally reasonable, otherwise I wouldn't have made it an offer, but I was expecting some insistence that either a) some of the seed order money would come from the community pot/ we'd share that expense or b) he would insist that we get equal cuts, in light of the sacrifice to seed banks I was making. Instead, my co-coordinator just went 'sounds great!" and then we moved on.
Obviously, I was not upset by this (he more than deserves it, and he legitimately has been doing more work than me on our upcoming Harvest Festival), but I was puzzled. I'd expected some "After you Alfonse" during which we negotiated something more equitable. I'd come up in a school of bargaining that implied long term, close relationships, in which the goal of the game is sustainable, equitable relations. You gain by being the first to offer up resources and you lose by accepting more resources from the other person than you're getting. Evergreen, by and large, plays by those rules, as do old ladies, whom I also tend to get along well with. You say "oh no, I insist you take this, you've earned it", and then they say "oh no, you've done so much, I just can't, in good conscience. YOU should take the extra cut", and then we haggle against ourselves until we agree to take the same amount, all things considered, but now we both feel a lot better about each other and ourselves. Another example of this is when someone offers you a glass of lemonade or water, and you decline the first two times they offer, and then you accept when they insist.
In close relationships (usually older, well-established ones, or ones that are bonded by other, stronger measures, such as romantic or familial relationships), this competitive resource allocation is replaced by a mutual "what's mine is yours" mentality, where you take what you need and give what is needed without question.
It's always interesting to come across people who weren't socialized into these rules. In this instance, I didn't mind that he got a little more than me, but I was confused as to why he was playing the game so poorly. He's definitely earned an extra bonus, it's not a question of that, and we're both going to be spending some of our own money on harvest fest on top of the thousand we already donated, but that was simply not how I'm used to that getting negotiated. It led me to thinking about what sort of societal pressures lead to various haggling styles. Minnesota Nice and Southern Hospitality are famous, as are the more ill-fated generosity of the Taino and Tahitians. In the Salish Sea region of Cascadia, competitive giving had replaced more traditional warfare as a means of redistributing wealth and power among the various families and tribes of the region. I think it's probably telling that the areas famous for (allegedly) indiscriminate generosity tend to be areas that have relatively little movement of people within the region, and lower diversity of recent immigrants. This is long term individual or even lineage selection, where the costs you pay today may not be repaid for years, or even generations. You can get away with that because you are long lived and you aren't going anywhere. Conversely, in areas with a higher turnover of people, it's easier to cheat in this system: You could merrily accept the overgenerous offer that someone has made you (and may later resent), with the knowledge that chances are, you or they won't be around long enough to worry about the social consequences.
This is actually one of the arguments for increasing quality and length of life, and reducing the birthrate, in poor communities. It also is a reason to promote localized agriculture, and other incentives for people generally to find a place and stay there. Evolutionarily speaking, if we, our descendants, our neighbors, and their descendants, are all likely to be here for a long while, it makes sense to be kinder to each other. Human memories are long, due to language they are in some senses longer than lifespans. A lot of crappy stuff can happen to a person over the course of our lives, and it makes sense to cultivate charity in those you're likely to be around by spreading your own wealth around when you've got it.
I think this old article from the New York Times sums up this mindset pretty well:
In most places, people are clamoring for flu shots - waiting in lines, calling every clinic in town, even going to Canada. But in Minnesota, the opposite problem has emerged: even people considered most vulnerable are forgoing the shots so there will be enough left for others.This puzzling reaction has left state health officials charmed, but also urging an estimated 1.6 million high-risk residents to be vaccinated.
Concerns about quality control at a vaccine plant in Britain led to a shortage of flu vaccine in the United States and led health officials to ask that shots be limited to those most susceptible to complications from the flu, including children younger than 2, adults older than 65 and the chronically ill.
But in Minnesota, officials said, more high-risk people are passing on the shots than in years past.
Ann Thiel, 88, of Inver Grove Heights, said she had gotten a flu shot every year for the past decade after a case of the flu caused her esophagus to rupture. But after hearing about the shortage, she decided not to get her annual shot.
"I think an awful lot of money is spent on people my age at the expense of younger people," Mrs. Thiel said. "I think I've had more than my share of good luck."
People like Kristen Ehresmann, manager of the immunizations section of the Minnesota Department of Health, are trying to spread the word that the state still has about 120,000 flu shots left, and that the most vulnerable need not go without.
Still, the trend here has been clear. At a clinic in Bloomington on Friday, only 259 people showed up for 800 shots. Last month, a Dodge County clinic administered 200 shots instead of the 1,000 it gives most years.
"They call it Minnesota nice," Ms. Ehresmann said. "People feel that they should defer for someone who needs it more."
Given the surplus, state officials say they may allow health care workers, who had been asked to skip the shots, to get them next month, Ms. Ehresmann said. And if the state meets its need, officials may consider sending leftovers to other states.
Mary Ann Blade, chief executive of the Minnesota Visiting Nurse Agency, which has 24 flu shot clinics planned this weekend, said she had heard of an elderly couple who drove around Minneapolis looking for long lines of people to find a flu shot clinic, but there were no long lines.
"I love Minnesota, though," she said. "They are so wonderful and worried about each other. That's the real strength of Minnesota, I think."
That is the sort of world I'd like to live in. Which puts me in a bit of a bind. I also like hearing a lot of different languages being spoken as I walk down the street, eating food I've never heard of before, and I know that science itself depends on the free flow of widely divergent worldviews, which in turn depends to a large degree on people moving around and introducing themselves to each other. How do we create a culture of recipocal altruism without halting the flow of genes, goods, language, and ideas that comes with a highly fluid society? I'm going to try and look the way other cultures have solved this problem in tomorrow's post.
