478 Altruism and Prosocial Behavior
We are good at justifying to ourselves (if not to others) why a
situation that benefits us or those we care about does not
violate our moral principles—for example, why storing our
nuclear waste in someone else’s backyard is fair, why terrorist
attacks by our side are regrettable but necessary evils whereas
terrorist attacks by the other side are atrocities, and why we
must obey orders even if it means killing innocent people. The
abstractness of most moral principles, and their multiplicity,
makes rationalization all too easy (see Bandura, 1991;
Bersoff, 1999; Staub, 1990).
But this may be only part of the story. Perhaps in some
cases upholding a moral principle canserve as an ultimate
goal, defining a form of motivation independent of egoism. If
so, perhaps these principles can provide a basis for respond-
ing to the needs of others that transcends reliance on self-
interest or on vested interest in and feeling for the welfare of
certain other individuals or groups. Quite an “if,” but it seems
well worth conducting research to find out.
Conflict and Cooperation of Prosocial Motives
To recognize the range of possible prosocial motives makes
available more resources to those seeking to produce a more
humane, caring society. At the same time, a multiplicity of
prosocial motives complicates matters. These different mo-
tives for helping others do not always work in harmony. They
can undercut or compete with one another.
Well-intentioned appeals to extended or enlightened self-
interest can backfire by undermining other prosocial motives.
Providing people with money or other tangible incentives for
showing concern may lead people to interpret their motiva-
tion as egoistic even when it is not (Batson, Coke, Jasnoski,
& Hanson, 1978). In this way, the assumption that there is
only one answer to the question of why we act for the com-
mon good—egoism—may become a self-fulfilling prophecy
(Batson, Fultz, Schoenrade, & Paduano, 1987) and may cre-
ate a self-perpetuating norm of self-interest (Miller, 1999;
Miller & Ratner, 1998).
Nor do the other three prosocial motives always work in
harmony. They can conflict with one another. For example,
altruism can—and often does—conflict with collectivism or
principlism. We may ignore the larger social good, or we may
compromise our principles, not only to benefit ourselves but
also to benefit those individuals about whom we especially care
(Batson, Batson, et al., 1995; Batson, Klein, Highberger, &
Shaw, 1995). Indeed, whereas there are clear social sanctions
against unbridled self-interest, there are not clear sanctions
against altruism. Batson, Ahmad, et al. (1999) found that altru-
ism can at times be a greater threat to the common good than is
egoism.
Each of the four possible prosocial motives that we have
identified has its strengths. Each also has its weaknesses. The
potential for the greatest good may come from strategies that
orchestrate these motives so that the strengths of one can
overcome the weaknesses of another. Strategies that combine
appeals to either altruism or collectivism with appeals to prin-
ciple seem especially promising. For example, think about the
principle of justice. Upholding justice is a powerful motive,
but it is vulnerable to rationalization. Empathy-induced altru-
ism and collectivism are also powerful motives, but they are
limited in scope. They produce partiality—special concern
for a particular person or persons or for a particular group. If
we can lead people to feel empathy for the victims of injustice
or to perceive themselves in a common group with them, we
may be able to get these motives working together rather than
at odds. Desire for justice may provide perspective and rea-
son; empathy-induced altruism or collectivism may provide
emotional fire and a force directed specifically toward relief
of the victims’ suffering, preventing rationalization.
Something of this sort occurred, we believe, in a number
of rescuers of Jews in Nazi Europe. A careful look at data col-
lected by the Oliners and their colleagues (Oliner & Oliner,
1988) suggests that involvement in rescue activity frequently
began with concern for a specific individual or individuals for
whom compassion was felt—often individuals known previ-
ously. This initial involvement subsequently led to further
contacts and rescue activity and to a concern for justice that
extended well beyond the bound of the initial empathic con-
cern. Something of this sort also lay at the heart of Gandhi’s
and Martin Luther King’s practice of nonviolent protest. The
sight on the TV news of a small Black child in Birmingham
being literally rolled down the street by water from a fire hose
under the direction of Police Chief Bull Connor, and the
emotions this sight evoked, seemed to do more to arouse a
concern for justice than did hours of reasoned argument and
appeals for equal civil rights.
Something of this sort also can be found in the writing of
Jonathan Kozol. Deeply concerned about the “savage inequal-
ities” in public education between rich and poor communities
in the United States, Kozol (1991) does not simply document
the inequity. He takes us into the lives of individual children.
We come to care deeply for them and, as a result, about the
injustice.RESEARCH METHOD MATTERSEfforts to explain prosocial behavior, especially its seemingly
anomalous aspects, have raised thorny issues about research
methods that, though not specific to this area, flourish here.