The Universal Scoreboard

What really is it that drives us to strive for wealth?

Whether as early as elementary school, in middle/high school, or even as late as college, most of us have at one point in our lives question the point of grades and test scores that are embedded in our academic system. What would getting good grades actually give me? Why should we as students even care about our grades at all? Wouldn’t it practically be the same whether you get a 10, 9, or 8 in a test score or report card as long as you still pass the exam or class. What would getting a 10 give me over getting just an 8? Well, yeah, getting high GPAs during college would to some extent give you access to better jobs, and getting good grades during high school would help you get more prestigious college programs. There are also scholarship programs out there that are given to best performing students. However, in the majority of cases (especially during elementary or middle school), I don’t think our grades really have any practical implication at all.

Naturally (or subconsciously) though, most of us (with varying degrees) seem to like it when we get good grades, although when we are asked why that is, we don’t really have any sound answer. So, what exactly is it that really motivate those straight A students to chase their As? What really underlies the enigmatic motivation of some students who put out countless all-nighters to strive to not get anything less than a 95 in their exams? It’s not like it would give them any tangible privilege like a prize money, access to exclusive facilities, and whatnot.

I believe that what actually drives conscientious students to pursue good grades is the same basic instinct that motivates anyone in trying to score as high possible in Tetris, spend innumerable hours levelling up in an online RPG game, score as much as possible in a basketball game, run our laps faster, and generally win, get better, or ascend in rank in any conceivable game out there. It is our rudimentary drive to triumph over a challenge (the more ‘internal’ factor) and rise up in rank across various socially constructed hierarchies to prove that we are ‘good’ at something, especially relative to others (the more ‘external’ factor). Not only in humans, this phenomenon could be observed in various examples throughout the animal kingdom where animals compete with each other in different ‘games’ for dominance. Male antelopes and bisons for example brawl with their horns to compete for dominance, gorillas use intimidation to compete for and retain alpha position, lobsters — as popularized by Jordan Peterson — also engage in fights for social dominance, and chimpanzees which are more complex use strength, intelligence, and political alliances to compete for the alpha position. Individual animals who ranks better in the dominance hierarchy could then have better privilege to limited resources & mating opportunities, and would be respected by those of lower rank. It is important to note that although those privileges were at first the practical reasons for why there needs to be a dominance hierarchy at all, the instinct for rising up the hierarchy has become deeply embedded in our natural instinct that it no longer needs a reason at all.

Humans, who are undoubtedly way more complex than animals have multiple hierarchies in their social structure. We don’t really have a single absolute universal metric that measures our position in the social hierarchy although some hierarchies are commonly given more prominence than others. School grades for example, is one form of hierarchy where students with better grades are deemed more intelligent (to some extent) than others. But of course, anybody who has been through high school would obviously know that grade is definitely not the primary social hierarchy metric of high school life, kids that age care more about things like how attractive you are to the opposite sex and how popular you are among other kids. Nevertheless, school grade is one example of a social hierarchy metric — which although to some extent (and commonly in a temporary part of our lives) motivate some of us to perform academically, is often superseded by other social hierarchy metrics, and proves to be futile (most of the time) when assessed in a practical perspective.

Money, however, tells a different story. Unlike grades, money has a very clear answer to the notorious “what’s it for?” question, it avoids the futility of artificial scores/achievement points (like school grades and game scores) by providing a tangible utility to it — it can be used to buy goods and services which would bring “real”, practical “value” to our life. Not only that, it is the universal value/currency/point system that every single person (with maybe some exceptions like priests or monks) would need in order to survive, live, and operate in the world. Even the most extreme jocks who has never give attention to his grades would start to get anxious when it’s time for them to start looking for a job and earn an income.

I think we could almost say that if there is a — relatively most (non-absolute) — universal social hierarchy metric that is most predominantly accepted by our kind, it would be money. We can easily compare how a chess player’s strength fare against other chess players by comparing their Elo Rating, but it is difficult to really compare how successful a chess player is compared to a musician, or a corporate executive; with money though, people could easily compare how they fare against others (based on this certain metric) quite easily. And as I said, since it has this sort of “all important” practical value or utility attached into it, you could argue that it is something that everyone — again, to some extent — should want and therefore strive to achieve. Finally, it also has this positive feedback effect where once it has been accepted by a portion of the population as the “universal” social hierarchy metric, society would then “demand” it to its individuals as a metric for success — amplifying its effect. Money, in a sense, is sort of like the score or points one ought to accumulate in the game of life.

However, this brings me to ask the question: is it really the utility of money that primarily drives industrious people to relentlessly strive for it? OR is the utility just an excuse to rationalize their efforts — it would serve as an answer in the case that they were asked “what’s it for?”. Could it be the case that deep down in their psyches, what really drives them to work industriously to chase for wealth is essentially the same instincts that had always drove ambitious students to strive for perfect grades. Again, we humans just want to prove how far we could get in the social hierarchy, and money or wealth just seemed to be the most universal and rational metric there is. It was never really about the insatiable need to dine at the fanciest restaurants, drive the most luxurious cars, or wear the most stylish fashion; in fact, these things might even only serve as a trophy or evidence for how financially successful they got. People don’t run around showing how much they make or how much they have in their bank account these days, so the only way to prove that you’re financially successful is to show that you can afford to buy these luxurious things

This may be why a minority of people who are so into what they’re doing could set aside wealth as the ultimate metric of success. Professors, researchers, athletes, and artists (e.g. musicians, poets, painters, film makers) often care more about how good they are in what they’re doing (measured by esoteric invisible standards commonly “set” by the true experts in their field) than the amount of dollars they are making out of their art.

Now, assuming that this hypothesis is true, what then? Once we were to realize that behind all those superficial reasons we’re using to justify our pursuits, the primal drive that really pushes us to strive for financial success is to prove ourselves and climb up the social hierarchy, what should we do then? Well, I believe it boils down to whether it is really meaningful to each of us. Being aware now of the rudimentary instinct that drives that ambition of yours, do you think you would still be satisfied once you’ve got to the top, or would you feel shallow if all those countless hours are spent only to prove yourself to others? We could go further and talk about whether the common pursuit of wealth is all worth it [Beyond Gold and Silver], or even further to what really is we ought to endeavor, but I guess that would be another topic on its own, and would definitely deserve its own special page.