Please Let Me Be Born Into a Wealthy Silicon Valley Tech Family
Or, we cannot undo the effects of luck with more luck
In his book, Determined, my favourite neuroendocrinologist Robert M. Sapolsky drops some powerful truth bombs on how our history, even before we’re born, and our luck determine the trajectory of our future.
Let’s imagine a footrace. In this race, one person starts way behind the others at the starting line. Is that fair? If the race is a short sprint, like a hundred-yard dash, most people would say it’s clearly unfair. But what if the race is a marathon? In that case, the initial disadvantage might not matter as much because, over the long haul, there are plenty of chances for things to even out. We often hear the idea that luck balances out over time, but that belief is more complicated than it seems.
Consider the situation of a child born to a mother who struggles with addiction, often referred to harshly as a “crack baby.” (While Sapolsky focuses mainly on the U.S., similar situations can be imagined in other countries, too.) From the very beginning, this child faces a tough start. Instead of society rushing in to help with financial support or therapies, many children like this are likely born into poverty and may stay trapped there. Society might say at this time, “At least let’s make sure this child has a loving, stable mother who can nurture them.” Unfortunately, that’s not what happens; the reality is often much darker. Many mothers are overwhelmed by their own life struggles, making it hard for them to provide the care their children need.
So, what happens next? If the mother is unable to provide a nurturing environment, the child might end up neglected or abused, often moving from one foster home to another. When we look at neighbourhoods, the situation doesn’t improve. Instead of growing up in safe, supportive communities with great schools, many of these kids find themselves in areas filled with crime and underfunded schools. The odds are stacked against them from the very start, and their journey through life resembles a marathon in which they are always a few steps behind the rest of the runners.
Now, imagine our crack baby, now a young adult, running this marathon. Because they began so far back, they struggle to keep up. Maybe at the five-mile mark, they’re offered only the last sips of water from the rehydration station. By the ten-mile mark, they start to feel sick from that bad water. At twenty miles, they find their path blocked by people who assume the race is over and are cleaning up. All the while, they see others zooming ahead, feeling entitled to their positions, thinking they’ve earned their success.
The privileged individuals who start at the front might genuinely believe they deserve their achievements. They often insist that anyone can succeed if they work hard enough—exactly what is touted by all motivational speakers and in most biographies and self-help books. This perspective fails to recognise the systemic inequalities that create such vast gaps between them and those starting at the back. This mindset isn’t just naïve; it reinforces a narrative that blames individuals for their circumstances while ignoring the larger social issues at play.
Let’s take another example. Imagine a guy in a scary situation—someone is coming at him with a knife. He pulls out a gun and shoots, leaving the attacker on the ground. What happens next? Does he think, “Okay, it’s done, I’m safe now”? Or does he keep shooting? If he waits eleven seconds before firing again, he could be charged with premeditated murder. If he had stopped after the first shot, it would have been considered self-defense. But because he had those eleven seconds to think, the second round of shots looks like a planned choice.
Now, let’s look at this guy’s background. He was born with fetal alcohol syndrome because his mother drank during pregnancy. She abandoned him when he was five, and he ended up in several foster homes, where he faced constant abuse. Again, (it’s a US-centric example, but you get the point Sapolsky is trying to make.) By thirteen, he had a drinking problem; at fifteen, he was homeless. He suffered multiple head injuries from fights, survived by sex work, and had been robbed many times. A month earlier, he was even stabbed by a stranger. A psychiatric social worker who saw him once suggested he might have PTSD.
When someone is trying to kill you, you have only eleven seconds to make a life-or-death choice. There’s solid science behind why people might make terrible decisions in such extreme stress. Now, consider our guy with a neurodevelopmental disorder from fetal alcohol exposure, years of childhood trauma, substance abuse, multiple brain injuries, and a recent stabbing. His brain is physically different—some parts are larger, some are smaller, and some pathways aren’t connected. Because of this, there’s basically no way he can make a calm, smart choice in those eleven seconds. Honestly, you’d probably react the same way if you had his background. So, the idea of “eleven seconds to premeditate” is just absurd.
The philosopher Daniel Dennett once argued that a “good runner” starting from behind can overcome their disadvantage if they’re skilled enough or “deserve” to win. This metaphor reflects Dennett’s views on merit and ability—that deserving individuals can overcome obstacles and that initial disadvantages can be offset by capability over time. According to Sapolsky, this isn’t just an oversimplification; it reflects a troubling belief that individual merit alone determines success. This perspective implies that those who struggle are simply not trying hard enough, a belief that fails to acknowledge the many factors beyond their control that shape their lives.
The harsh truth is that life often amplifies the effects of both good and bad luck. The philosopher Neil Levy argues that luck’s effects—especially when they shape foundational aspects of our lives—cannot simply be undone by further lucky breaks. “We cannot undo the effects of luck with more luck.” Levy suggests that initial disadvantages due to luck often compound over time, rather than being offset by new fortunate events.
Dennett offers one more thought that captures his moral stance. He switches metaphors to baseball, saying, “If you don’t like the home run rule, don’t play baseball; play some other game.” To this, our now-grown crack baby from earlier might respond, “Fine, I want a different game. This time, let me be born into a well-off, educated family of tech professionals in Silicon Valley, where if I decide I like ice-skating, I’ll get lessons and encouragement from my first shaky steps. I didn’t ask for this life; I want to switch to that one instead.”
Believing that it’s enough to understand only present intentions goes beyond mere intellectual blindness; it’s as misguided as thinking the first turtle in an endless stack is somehow floating on its own. (If you know the “Turtles All the Way Down” story, you know what I mean.)1 In our world, this view isn’t just naive—it’s deeply ethically flawed.
A great summary of this viewpoint is given by philosopher Neil Levy:
“Agents are not responsible as soon as they acquire a set of active dispositions and values; instead, they become responsible by taking responsibility for their dispositions and values. Manipulated agents are not immediately responsible for their actions, because it is only after they have had sufficient time to reflect upon and experience the effects of their new dispositions that they qualify as fully responsible agents. The passing of time (under normal conditions) offers opportunities for deliberation and reflection, thereby enabling agents to become responsible for who they are. Agents become responsible for their dispositions and values in the course of normal life, even when these dispositions and values are the product of awful constitutive luck. At some point, bad constitutive luck ceases to excuse, because agents have had time to take responsibility for it.”
So, it seems that William James (or perhaps it was Albert Einstein, or Bertrand Russel, or some other famous celebrity) was giving a lecture about the nature of life and the universe. Afterward, an old woman came up and said, “Professor James, you have it all wrong.”
To which James asked, “How so, madam?”
“Things aren’t at all like you said,” she replied. “The world is on the back of a gigantic turtle.”
“Hmm.” said James, bemused. “That may be so, but where does that turtle stand?”
“On the back of another turtle,” she answered.
“But madam,” said James indulgently, “where does that turtle stand?”
To which the old woman responded triumphantly: “It’s no use, Professor James. It’s turtles all the way down!”