Note: I have added the paragraph
numbering to facilitate reference to specific passages in our class discussion.
Superscripts retained, but footnotes omitted.
Appendix B WHAT IS
INTRINSIC MOTIVATION?
For
the purpose of analyzing the effects of rewards, it may be enough to
define intrinsic motivation as the desire to engage in an activity for its
own sake — that is, just because of the satisfaction it provides.1 This offers a nice, crisp contrast to extrinsic
motivation, which means that one takes part in the activity because of
some other benefit that doing so will bring. However, if we look at the
question more closely, things become a good deal more problematic and, for
some of us anyway, more interesting. I want to explore a few of the
questions, disputes, and complications that arise in thinking about
intrinsic motivation (IM).
The
very idea of IM is controversial in some quarters because of its implicit
affirmation that what people do isn't always initiated by forces outside
the self. While such forces can explain some of our behavior, it's also
possible, and even necessary, to appeal to other motivational systems,
which focus on what is inside of us. Behaviorists, not surprisingly, have
not looked kindly on discussions of IM because its premise challenges the
core of their belief system. They have reacted either by denying its
existence or, what comes to the same thing, trying to collapse it into
their own framework. If something looks intrinsic, they insist, it's just
because we haven't yet figured out the real (extrinsic) causes. (For more
on the behaviorists' responses, see Appendix C.)2
Apart
from this dispute, there are quite a few controversies among those who
take the concept of IM seriously but can't seem to agree on exactly what
it means. To begin with, we need to decide whether it is to be defined
negatively (specifically, as that which is present when an individual does
something without expecting a reward), positively, or both. The negative
definition is convenient for conducting experiments, and it is used
explicitly or implicitly by a number of researchers: they record how often
or how long subjects engage in an activity when no extrinsic benefits from
doing so are expected. This technique, as I will explain later, has raised
a number of troubling issues.
[p.
291] Defining IM positively, which is favored by more theorists, opens up
a Pandora's box (not to say a Skinner box) of difficulties. The major
question is whether we understand the concept in terms of a desire to
engage in a particular task or in terms of certain qualities and more
general motivations that define human beings. If the latter is chosen, we
naturally will want to know what those qualities are. The nominees include
a desire "to feel good,"3
"an orientation toward learning and mastery, "4 and a need for competence and self-determination5 as well as, perhaps, to relate to and be engaged
with others .6
Whether
any or all of these needs can be shown to be innate or universal, and if
so, whether they are indeed the most fundamental human motivators are
questions for another day. What interests me now is the relation between
any such characteristics and the topic of intrinsic motivation. It would
seem that the connection depends largely on the question we are asking. If
we want to know what it means to say that humans are intrinsically
motivated organisms, or why they want to do so many things, it might indeed
be useful to try to identify some primary drives or needs. But if all we
want to know is what it means to say that people are (or this person is)
intrinsically motivated to pursue this particular task, then it may be
enough to answer in terms of the appeal that this task holds. The
definition offered in the first sentence of this essay, which doesn't
bother to postulate, say, a basic need for humans to be challenged, might
be sufficient for this purpose.
Once
our definition of IM goes beyond someone's desire to perform a particular
activity, we begin to run into other problems. One is that the wider human
goals designated as intrinsic (such as exploring the environment or
expressing oneself) may actually interfere with an individual's focus on a
specific task. I may have to choose between satisfying my basic curiosity
and attending to the job I'm doing at the moment. The two approaches to
understanding IM may, in other words, tug in opposite directions .7
Another
problem is that it is sometimes unclear whether a given characteristic
defines IM or is only empirically associated with it. Either intrinsically
motivated people turn out to be autonomous (or vice versa), or else
autonomy is part of what we mean by the phrase intrinsically motivated.
If we try to have it both ways, our argument becomes circular. Even
people who have written extensively about the topic occasionally seem
confused about whether IM entails task involvement by definition or
whether IM (defined some other way) promotes task involvement.
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Finally, we will have to decide whether to build situational elements into
our understanding of IM. To take a concrete example, people often lose
interest in a task when they keep doing it over a period of time.8 Does this mean that someone was not really
intrinsically motivated to work on that task after all? Or is IM itself
partly a function of novelty? Since interest is so variable, must we avoid
attributing motivational properties to activities? And what about
attributing the motivation to perform an activity to individuals, since
that too depends on the circumstances?
Let us
put these conceptual problems aside and look at a very practical issue:
how IM in its task-specific sense is measured. Beginning with Deci's early
experiments, there have basically been two techniques: asking people how
they feel about the activity and watching to see how much time they spend
on it (in the absence of extrinsic factors) when given a choice. These are
two appealingly straightforward ways of getting at the idea of IM — or so
it would seem.
In
fact, neither technique is without problems. Self-report measures, while
undeniably useful, raise the question of whether people are describing
their feelings accurately — or in some cases, whether they even know what
they feel (which unleashes a host of philosophical questions). Do
experimental subjects exaggerate how much they enjoyed what they were
asked to do because this is the answer they think the researcher wants to
hear? Do some kinds of people do this more often than others, raising the
possibility that a measure of IM is actually gauging something else
entirely?
The
"free choice" measure — secretly observing people to see whether
they return to an activity when they're not obliged to do so — carries its
own difficulties. The length or proportion of time spent on the target
task varies depending on a range of situational and dispositional factors,
including how appealing the available alternative activities happen to be
to the individual. The researcher wants to know whether you will continue
to play a game when left alone with it for five minutes or whether you
will read a magazine. But the answer may say as much about which magazines
are in the room as it does about your interest in the game.9 In
experiments where subjects are not left alone, moreover, they may be
inclined to keep playing the game partly out of a desire to please the
experimenter.
As if
to emphasize the risk of putting our faith in either or both of these techniques
for quantifying IM, one study after another has found that the two may not
point in the same direction: the correla-
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tion between self-report and behavioral measures is often negligible.10 This fact led Ryan and Deci to reflect on what is
implied by a situation where someone keeps working on an activity in the
absence of extrinsic inducements. Is this in itself a valid indicator of
IM? The answer, they decided, is probably not, and with this conclusion
comes a bundle of new questions about motivation.
All of
us are familiar with people who drive themselves mercilessly to achieve,
who approach their work with a compulsiveness that led to the introduction
of the term workaholic. What is interesting for our purposes about
this style of task engagement is that it does not depend on the
anticipation of receiving rewards or punishments from the environment. The
pressure is internally generated and yet devoid of "the genuine
interest, enjoyment, and excitement that phenomenologically define intrinsic
motivation."11 Could this description
fit some of the experimental subjects who report low interest in an
activity while nevertheless continuing to work at it on their own time?
Ryan
and his colleagues set out to answer that question. They told some
subjects that the task they were being given to do would reveal how
intelligent they were; others were just encouraged to become involved in
the task without feeling that their egos were on the line. It turned out
that there was no match between the self-report and behavioral measures of
interest (what they said about the activity and whether they continued
working on it) for the former group. If people felt anxious about whether
they were any good at the task, they were more likely to keep at it,
presumably more to "preserve their self-worth" than because it
was intrinsically motivating."Although free-choice behavior is a reflection of intrinsic
motivation" when people are encouraged just to explore the activity,
"it is more of a reflection of internally controlling regulation in
conditions of ego involvement," they concluded.12Internal does not always imply intrinsic.
This
conclusion offers a direct challenge to psychological theories that
distinguish only between what is inside a person and what is outside. It forces
us to reconsider not only how we measure IM but what the concept really
means. And it raises questions, as I suggested in chapter 12, about
whether it is enough just to get children to "internalize" norms
and values. After all, feeling controlled from the inside isn't much of an
improvement over feeling controlled from the outside.
This
last point reminds us that IM, for all its importance, is sometimes
irrelevant to the questions that matter to us as parents and teachers. We
want children to put their own needs aside sometimes
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and do what is in the interest of a larger group of people, to respect the
rights of others even when this involves inconveniencing themselves. Such
behavior is not really analogous to, say, reading, since it is not something
in which one develops or maintains an intrinsic interest (although it is
sometimes described as intrinsically valuable). In his description of life
in an American classroom, Philip Jackson observed that "it is hard to
imagine that the students will ever find anything intrinsically satisfying
about being silent when they wish to talk," a fact that suggests
"the notion of intrinsic motivation begins to lose some of its
power"13 — or at least its pertinence
to nonacademic issues.
If,
however, we see the world only in terms of intrinsic versus extrinsic
motivation, we will be inclined to think that whatever is not described by
the former must be described by the latter. Practically speaking, that
means we may resort to extrinsic motivators to induce children to act
responsibly. But this dichotomous view overlooks the possibility of
helping them internalize a commitment to such actions, and doing so in
such a way that they come to feel a sense of self-determination about the
matter and ultimately are able to decide for themselves what kind of
people they want to be.14
The
need to introduce a concept such as internalization implies that the
intrinsic/extrinsic dichotomy is not exhaustive. In fact, we can come up
with other real-life situations that can't readily be classified as one or
the other. Consider a scientist whose prime motive is to contribute to her
field, or a labor organizer who is interested in fighting injustice and
helping working people. Or imagine a student in a classroom where learning
often takes place in cooperative groups: he finds the activity extremely
engaging, but mostly because of the pleasure derived from working with
others.
In
these examples, people are not seeking what we would ordinarily call
extrinsic rewards, yet neither are they motivated by the tasks themselves.
The scientist may not particularly enjoy the laboratory work, the
organizer may not be enthusiastic about making phone calls and attending
meetings, and the student may not be delighted with the math assignment
per se.
I
think what explains our frustration in deciding how to categorize these
people is a quality of intrinsic motivation that has gone largely
unnoticed by psychologists: it is a concept that exists only in the
context of the individual. The scientist, the organizer, and the student
are all motivated by social concerns, and these don't easily fit into
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such a paradigm. Forced to choose, we would have to say that these motives
are extrinsic to their tasks rather than intrinsic. But the fact that we
have to lump such motives with the quest for money or grades reveals a
limitation in the idea of IM. It is an idea that was never intended to
apply to something beyond the needs of separate selves. That this point
has rarely even been raised among researchers and theorists may say
something about the pervasiveness of an individualistic framework in
psychology.15
On the
other hand, I am not convinced that we ought to discourage people from
being intrinsically interested in what they are doing. For example,
writers who love the act of writing are not necessarily being
self-indulgent and oblivious to larger social concerns. Even less does it
follow from the importance of living in a world with others that we should
promote the use of extrinsic motivators. We depend on each other for
emotional support and for feedback about what we have done, but neither of
these has to take the form of rewards.
Very
similar to the concern about IM's focus on the individual is the idea that
someone intrinsically motivated is caught up only in the process of what
he is doing, to the exclusion of the product. To be sure, our society
encourages a preoccupation with the product, the bottom line, the
practical result. Thus, Csikszentmihalyi finds it refreshing "when
experience is intrinsically rewarding [because then] life is justified in
the present, instead of being held hostage to a hypothetical future
gain."16 However, it was also
Csikszentmihalyi whom I quoted in chapter 10 offering the reminder that
"intrinsic rewards are not an ultimate standard to strive for. One
still must ask: What are the consequences of this particular
activity?"17 It is important to
consider the content of our work, what it means beyond the pleasure it may
provide.
The
relative emphasis we ought to give to process and product considerations
is a topic too ambitious for this discussion. My question is limited to
whether encouraging an intrinsic orientation threatens to exclude product
concerns. The answer depends on whether we equate intrinsic with process,
and extrinsic with product. I am not sure this equation is warranted.
Clearly that which pertains to the process of doing something is not
always intrinsic to the task: the student who loves cooperating is an
example of that. Conversely, it may be possible for one's purely intrinsic
motivation as an artist to be geared as much to the product that results
as from the creative act that preceded it.18 Satisfaction in the doing is different from
satisfaction in having done, but both might reasonably be classified as
intrinsic. The
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latter is more similar to the former than it is to doing something for a
reward.
Here
again, of course, everything depends on how we define our terms. My point
is that it is not at all obvious what is meant by the phrase intrinsic
motivation. What appears at first blush an uncomplicated idea reveals
itself as a tangle of possibilities, all of which have substantive
implications for what we counterpose to the use of rewards.