In God we trust

Game theory is the study of any situation, where the final outcome depends on the actions of more than one person.

Sometimes, the same situation (‘game’) can be experienced (‘played’) over and over again by the same set of individuals. Repeated games, then, become the study of the finite or infinite repetition of a single or one-shot game.

The time dimension is what makes the analysis of repeated games fundamentally different from the analysis of static or one-shot games. It requires that we think carefully about what we earn in a game today versus what we earn from it tomorrow.

Another crucial aspect is the fact the behaviour of players today — and, therefore, the outcome of the game — can influence responses tomorrow.

For instance, if an incumbent firm wishes to deter entrants into its market, even if it comes at a huge cost, what it would be seeking is to build a reputation for being tough. This will, then, deter all future entry. Such reputation is called strategic reputation and is an important part of the study of repeated games.

However, even ‘non-strategic’ or simple reputation, where a person simply adopts some behaviour without any desire to exploit it in the future, can be very useful in explaining many types of observed behaviours.

By now, you may be asking why the hell we are engaging in this droll excursion into the esoteric realm of repeated games. To mainu ki or why should I care, to use that delectable Punjabi expression.

Well, because many of the seemingly irrational things that we do/observe can actually be explained using notions from repeated games.

Protecting God’s Children

Take many drivers in India, who say a quick prayer while passing a temple, and expect the reigning deity to protect them from mishaps on the road. The same drivers, however, will typically not wear a seat belt — leave alone suggest to co-passengers — unless compelled by some external agent. There are some others who say wahe guru even before starting their cars, and then drive off without wearing the seat belt.

Of course, many of these believers have started to wear seat belts now. But that’s more from fear of the Law. The task of keeping the occupants of the vehicle safe is still left in the hands of the Almighty.

I shall now provide an argument based on repeated games to explain the above behaviour, and contend that similar arguments can be made for many other seemingly unreasonable acts.

Although the act of praying and not wearing a seat belt are not by any means ne plus ultra , they would still serve our purposes of illustration.

In the simplest version of our game, we have somebody making car trips daily. This player has four choices: (a) wear the seat belt and not pray; (b) pray, but not wear the seat belt; (c) do both; (d) do neither. Either way, we can assume the person’s payoff in the game to be maximised when he or she lives longer.

The other player in our game is God, who can keep the first person safe or not. So, on the one hand, we have the Almighty in his forms and manifestations — omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient. He, indeed, pervades all spheres of the lives of us humble mortals. It goes without saying that our first player, who exercises choice (b), strongly identifies with this supreme entity and has invested a lot of faith in Him.

Mortal Seat Belt

Besides these two, there is another player, who is this puny three-point seatbelt — the brainchild of safety-minded engineers, who cannot aspire for godly status.

The modern seat belt was patented in 1951 by Roger Griswold and Hugh de Haven, while the current three-point version, I understand from Wikipedia, is attributed to a Swedish mechanical engineer, Nils Ivar Bohlin, who worked for Volvo. The original seatbelt was invented in the early 19th century by Sir George Cayley, also called the “father of aerodynamics.”

But it was a California neurologist, C. Hunter Sheldon, who — after undertaking numerous studies of head injuries — proposed the idea of retractable seat belts (along with assorted other safety improvements) to the automobile industry in the early 1950s.

Needless to say, none of these has the potency of God; nor does anyone identify himself with him as they do with Him. At best, seatbelts are seen as irritants one has to put up with simply for not being issued a challan or entering into a settlement with the traffic cop — a God no less.

Now consider this gentleman, who does not wear his seat belt and prays to God before turning the ignition key each time. Every day that he makes it back home safe, is a point in favour of God, and with every passing day, God’s reputation as the saviour grows. With that, so does the individual’s trust in Him, much like the reputation of an eBay seller, who repeatedly delivers the products that you ask and pay for online.

But unlike eBay, a few near-fatal misses in this case may even serve to increase our gentleman’s faith in God. The seat belt, by contrast, never really gets a fair chance!

Over time, the faith in wahe guru increases due to the repeated nature of this person’s interaction with Him, whereas the seat belt is remembered only when the supposedly long arm of the law forcefully rears its head.

Things could be different only if we could deify the seat belt. What if among the Hindu pantheon of Gods — 33 crore is the most scholarly estimate — we also had a God of the Seat Belt? Then, there might just be more takers for wearing their seat belts, just to appease Him by another name.

But then again, it might just be possible that people while riding cars may pray to, but never actually wear, the God of the Seat Belt.

That would become another repeated game, where safety once again would be relegated to the Gods in whom we trust.

(The author is Professor of Economics, specialising in industrial organisation and applied game theory, at Louisiana State University.)

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