Game theory attempts to optimize outcomes.
An optimal outcome, however, depends on:
- How you measure success.
- The rules of the game.
But let me digress and then get back to that.
A nice thing with the prisoner’s dilemma is that even though the rules of the game are completely silly, and would seem to have very little applicability to the real world, it just so happens to have a sufficient parallel to the real world when you iterate the game out over thousands of games.
Specifically, what it points to is evolution. Cooperation is a naturally arising feature of a large number of strategies where the outcome can be gamed by forming alliances and sticking to them. For criminals, if you think you’ll break the law together again in the future then it’s the best outcome for both of you if you can get back to working together again, even if there’s a minor cost to that cooperation. In the real world, when you’re part of a tribe or family unit, we have a similar real-world pressure. And, one notes, if you look at your money you’ll see a bundle of arrows clutched together in the claws of an eagle, symbolizing the strategic value of alliances and how a clutch of allies is strong together while each individually weak, apart. The prisoner’s dilemma maps to real world pressures and realities.
But, note, the rules of the prisoner’s dilemma explicitly hardcode an advantage to cooperation. So one might say that it’s not meaningful for alliances to pop out of it. You could invent a different game and a different strategy would come out on top.
An example that I have given before is to compare Chess to Monopoly.
To win at these two games requires two very different techniques. In Chess, you attempt to optimally maneuver pieces to optimize offense and defensive capability, while disrupting your opponent’s ability to do so. If you can do that, you will win. Whereas, in Monopoly, you win largely by having the ability to accurately weigh the value of a particular piece of property, given the probabilities that a player will land on that property, and your odds of being able to create a set.
But “winning” is just as arbitrary as it is in the prisoner’s dilemma. There’s no objective reason, in the prisoner’s dilemma, for you to reward the prisoners for cooperating (minus the story element of the criminals expecting to come back to the same place, together again, in the future). Likewise, there’s no objective reason for the person with the last remaining King to win Chess, nor for the person with the most money to win Monopoly. Particularly if we look at Chess, we might note that both teams start with 16 pieces. By the end of the game, they might have 4 and 2, respectively. If you were to murder off ~13 of your friends and associates, would you view yourself as a winner in life? In Monopoly, as the loser, you will have turned $1500 into a variety of profitable ventures of even greater value than you started with. Oh darn!
One might also note, with Chess, that if you apply it to the real world and you’re the king - so it is in fact sort of important that you stay alive - then if you decide to fight it out with the king next door, on the battlefield, even if you don’t care about your troops and simply enjoy the glory of war, then after you win you now have fewer troops and the kings in the other two or three countries which surround you can happily step in and take over some of your land, knowing that you are short on warriors at the moment.
To be sure, a few guys in history got lucky with the “expanding empire” strategy. But, it is safe to say, the grand majority simply proved that it’s a stupid methodology for achieving that goal versus, say, marrying your daughter out and forming an alliance. Or, one might also consider, all the founders of the USA had to do to turn 13 independent states into a mega-country was to meet in a room and talk about how they’d all gain from it, then sign a document to do so. No deaths. No losing your daughter to some drunk asshole.
But, if you have locked in on playing Chess and you are being measured on your ability to win at Chess, on the basis of what we all popularly consider to be a “win”, then you would be stupid to not play in accordance with the rules. And if we killed you, if you lost, and we bred you out with other winners should you win, and maintained this over a few generations then we would develop a people with a nature inclined towards destroying everything that others have. It’s just the evolutionary effect of the rules, applied over an iterative cycle.
Politics is an iterative cycle. It breeds for better players, given the rules of the game, and the win condition. If those players, as they become better at it over their lives and over the generations, become more cooperative, more willing to compromise, etc. then it would be fair to say that that’s the winning strategy for that game. I mean, plausibly there is some other one that might also work, that simply hasn’t been trialed yet. But the safest conclusion would be that this particular rules and this particular measure of “winning” will produce this strategy as the optimum. And if they become less willing to compromise, less honest about their intentions, less practical in their aims, then it would be most reasonable to conclude that that strategy is the optimum, for this game.
Should those rules and that win condition be changed, though, you will get a different outcome.
In the ideal world, the rules and win conditions for the players of the game of politics would produce optimal legislation for the general public. And if we accept that that is the aim of our government, then even if you were able to vote out all of the people currently playing and replace them with people who are better, it would be best to predict that we will end up back where we are. If you filled a room of chess boards with the worlds kindest most friendly folks but only gave them food if they won a game, then you would get back to everyone trying to destroy the other player’s troops just as expediently as they could. It’s just the manifest outcome of that game.
Our system lasted for a good while but, I think, a few significant things changed the rules of the game and broke it. It was never, to begin with, meant to have parties and so it is reasonable to say that it started mildly broken and in need of repair. By the time we started to publicize each congressman’s discrete vote, the game was completely shot.
It will not get better without better rules. And those rules are not populist.