What it seemed to be, was the brain categorizing activities into “work” and “fun” boxes.
I suspect the rule brain uses when categorizing is “Is there stress associated with the activity? Do I feel anxiety when I imagine I could do it wrong, or not finish it on time? Yes → work. No → fun.”
Nothing changes about the activity except the addition of more utility
This would be true for a rational machine, but you have emotions. Adding positive financial utility may also also add negative emotional utility. It’s not just “if I make this work, I will have extra $5000” but also “if I don’t make this work, I will not be able to pay my bills, which could lead to many problems”.
I can understand akrasia, wanting the happiness now and hyperbolically discounting what happens later
“Hyperbolic discounting” is IMHO a red herring. Yes, it exists in some situations. But many cases of akrasia are actually caused by emotional factors. Fix the emotions and the akrasia will go away. It’s only Vulcan Rationalists pretending that everything is about hyperbolic discounting, because it allows them to debate mathematical equations instead of emotions.
I would really like to learn where is the dividing line between which kinds of added value create this effect and which ones don’t (like money obviously does, and immediate enjoyment obviously doesn’t).
A thought experiment: Imagine that there is a website that calculates some abstract “credits” for doing programming tasks. For example, you make a program, send it to the website owners, they will look at source code and give you 150 credits, because that’s how they feel about the program’s complexity and quality and whatever other criteria they evaluate. It’s unconnected to the world outside: you can send what you wrote at work (let’s assume there are no legal obstacles), or what you wrote at free time, anything. Then you could see “oh, I already earned 500 credits this month, I have 23450 total credits, and that makes me the 123th highest ranking programmer on the website”.
My prediction: These “credits” would be classified as FUN. That is, no negative feelings connected. Despite the fact that you sometimes send them your work code.
A few years later: The website calculating “credits” becomes popular and people talk about it a lot. Your boss tells you: “If you can you get 50000 total credits, I will double your salary. However, if someone with better ranking would apply for your job, I will fire you and take them instead. I hope you feel more motivated now!” (Let’s assume that the firing would be perfectly legal.)
My prediction: These “credits” would be reclassified as WORK. Now they are connected to some negative feelings. Despite the fact that you can still send them your free-time code. Actually, I suspect that even some of the free-time projects would suddenly start feeling like WORK when you realize that making them and sending them to the website could bring you the “credits”.
I experience the same phenomenon in spite of not experiencing anxiety. (That’s not 100% true, I did experience completely disassociated anxiety once.)
The most interesting case is that I spent about five months writing a new tabletop game after the beta of the current version of D&D made me annoyed. (It was when they started phasing feats out, eliminating yet another chunk of character customization.)
Five months and a novel’s worth of writing in, I started planning ahead. As soon as I set goals for myself, I stopped enjoying working on it. I pushed through writing 250 spells over two months, and progress has been sporadic since then.
I don’t think anxiety is the issue. I think it’s something related to goal-oriented behaviors; the short view and long view fighting each other.
ETA:
Thinking about it, I experience exactly the same thing WRT my daily work. If I receive an e-mail with something to do, I’ll immediately hop on it, and wrap the task up. If I have a long-term project, I’ll procrastinate. A task that enters my immediate list of things to do carries little or no internal resistance; the same task, attached to any kind of prior planning ahead on my part, requires substantial effort to undertake.
A quick hypothesis is that when you don’t plan, you see every achievement as an improvement over status quo. But when you have a plan, suddenly you compare every step with the goal, so the feedback for every step is “you are not there yet”—not quite encouraging.
It’s like instead of getting emotional rewards for every step we do, we take a huge emotional loan in the planning phase, and then we just have to pay it by work.
That explains why planning—even to ridiculous levels of detail, to the point where I’ve done most of the work—is enjoyable, yet following up on planning is tedious.
I don’t think anxiety is the issue. I think it’s something related to goal-oriented behaviors; the short view and long view fighting each other.
Another suggestion: freedom of choice. Things labeled “fun” you can do or not do, in particular you can always exit them with no negative consequences. Things labeled “work” you have to do (with a varied intensity of “have”) and not doing them does have negative consequences.
That makes sense given that I’m libertarian. Assuming I follow the standard libertarian psychological profile, I am offended by the loss of my sense of control, even if I’m ceding that sense of control to my past self.
ETA:
I enjoy planning. I despise carrying out plans. In the former case, I’m maximizing my current control over my self. In the latter case, I’m resisting the control over myself I have previously exerted, in order to maximize my current control over my self.
I suspect the rule brain uses when categorizing is “Is there stress associated with the activity? Do I feel anxiety when I imagine I could do it wrong, or not finish it on time? Yes → work. No → fun.”
This would be true for a rational machine, but you have emotions. Adding positive financial utility may also also add negative emotional utility. It’s not just “if I make this work, I will have extra $5000” but also “if I don’t make this work, I will not be able to pay my bills, which could lead to many problems”.
“Hyperbolic discounting” is IMHO a red herring. Yes, it exists in some situations. But many cases of akrasia are actually caused by emotional factors. Fix the emotions and the akrasia will go away. It’s only Vulcan Rationalists pretending that everything is about hyperbolic discounting, because it allows them to debate mathematical equations instead of emotions.
A thought experiment: Imagine that there is a website that calculates some abstract “credits” for doing programming tasks. For example, you make a program, send it to the website owners, they will look at source code and give you 150 credits, because that’s how they feel about the program’s complexity and quality and whatever other criteria they evaluate. It’s unconnected to the world outside: you can send what you wrote at work (let’s assume there are no legal obstacles), or what you wrote at free time, anything. Then you could see “oh, I already earned 500 credits this month, I have 23450 total credits, and that makes me the 123th highest ranking programmer on the website”.
My prediction: These “credits” would be classified as FUN. That is, no negative feelings connected. Despite the fact that you sometimes send them your work code.
A few years later: The website calculating “credits” becomes popular and people talk about it a lot. Your boss tells you: “If you can you get 50000 total credits, I will double your salary. However, if someone with better ranking would apply for your job, I will fire you and take them instead. I hope you feel more motivated now!” (Let’s assume that the firing would be perfectly legal.)
My prediction: These “credits” would be reclassified as WORK. Now they are connected to some negative feelings. Despite the fact that you can still send them your free-time code. Actually, I suspect that even some of the free-time projects would suddenly start feeling like WORK when you realize that making them and sending them to the website could bring you the “credits”.
I experience the same phenomenon in spite of not experiencing anxiety. (That’s not 100% true, I did experience completely disassociated anxiety once.)
The most interesting case is that I spent about five months writing a new tabletop game after the beta of the current version of D&D made me annoyed. (It was when they started phasing feats out, eliminating yet another chunk of character customization.)
Five months and a novel’s worth of writing in, I started planning ahead. As soon as I set goals for myself, I stopped enjoying working on it. I pushed through writing 250 spells over two months, and progress has been sporadic since then.
I don’t think anxiety is the issue. I think it’s something related to goal-oriented behaviors; the short view and long view fighting each other.
ETA: Thinking about it, I experience exactly the same thing WRT my daily work. If I receive an e-mail with something to do, I’ll immediately hop on it, and wrap the task up. If I have a long-term project, I’ll procrastinate. A task that enters my immediate list of things to do carries little or no internal resistance; the same task, attached to any kind of prior planning ahead on my part, requires substantial effort to undertake.
Hmm, you may be right.
A quick hypothesis is that when you don’t plan, you see every achievement as an improvement over status quo. But when you have a plan, suddenly you compare every step with the goal, so the feedback for every step is “you are not there yet”—not quite encouraging.
It’s like instead of getting emotional rewards for every step we do, we take a huge emotional loan in the planning phase, and then we just have to pay it by work.
That explains why planning—even to ridiculous levels of detail, to the point where I’ve done most of the work—is enjoyable, yet following up on planning is tedious.
Another suggestion: freedom of choice. Things labeled “fun” you can do or not do, in particular you can always exit them with no negative consequences. Things labeled “work” you have to do (with a varied intensity of “have”) and not doing them does have negative consequences.
Hm.
That makes sense given that I’m libertarian. Assuming I follow the standard libertarian psychological profile, I am offended by the loss of my sense of control, even if I’m ceding that sense of control to my past self.
ETA:
I enjoy planning. I despise carrying out plans. In the former case, I’m maximizing my current control over my self. In the latter case, I’m resisting the control over myself I have previously exerted, in order to maximize my current control over my self.
see my comment.