You’re watching television when your phone buzzes. A charity text. Delete or donate? The answer, it turns out, might depend less on your bank balance than on what else is competing for your attention right now.
Across three separate experiments involving more than 500 people, researchers at the University of Birmingham have uncovered something counterintuitive about human generosity. We’re more willing to interrupt what we’re doing to help others when we’re surrounded by poor opportunities than when we’re drowning in good ones.
The team, led by Dr Todd Vogel and Professor Patricia Lockwood, created what they call a ‘prosocial ecology task’. Participants settled in to watch Blue Planet II while opportunities to earn rewards popped up on screen: coloured ovals signalling different amounts of money and different chances of actually winning. Some rewards would go to the participant. Others would go to an anonymous stranger.
Here’s the catch: accepting an opportunity meant pausing the documentary to squeeze a grip device or frantically press a button. Miss part of David Attenborough explaining octopus camouflage to potentially win ten credits for someone you’d never meet.
The crucial manipulation came in how the researchers structured these interruptions. In ‘rich’ environments, high-value opportunities appeared frequently. In ‘poor’ environments, the average quality of offers was much lower; more dross, fewer gems. Both environments contained the same range of possible rewards, but their frequency differed dramatically.
You might expect people to be more generous when surrounded by abundance. But the opposite happened. Participants were significantly more likely to interrupt their viewing to help anonymous others when stuck in poor foraging environments compared to rich ones. The pattern held when helping themselves too, but the environmental effect was far stronger for prosocial decisions.
The finding taps into principles from behavioural ecology—the science of how animals decide when to act. A bird in a forest thick with juicy caterpillars can afford to be picky, ignoring smaller insects and waiting for better prey. The same bird in a sparse woodland will snap up whatever crawls past, because holding out for premium food becomes too costly. The environment sets the threshold.
Todd Vogel and his colleagues have demonstrated that humans follow similar rules when deciding whether to help others. In their experiments, people watching the documentary had to weigh the value of each opportunity against what they were missing: more wildlife footage, or the chance that something better might come along. In rich environments, where high-quality opportunities kept appearing, participants became selective—even when the rewards would benefit someone else. In poor environments, where good chances were scarce, people accepted offers they might otherwise have declined.
Computational modelling revealed that participants were encoding different ‘opportunity costs’ for each environment. These costs—essentially, the mental price tag of acting now versus waiting—were lower in poor environments. When benefits would flow to strangers, this environmental influence grew even stronger.
There’s a long-running argument in social psychology about whether poverty breeds generosity or selfishness. Some studies suggest people on lower incomes give proportionally more to charity. Others find the opposite. These contradictions might partly stem from lumping together two different questions: how much do people have, and what’s the quality of opportunities they encounter moment to moment?
Vogel’s study directly manipulated environmental richness whilst keeping everything else constant. The poor environment wasn’t actually poor—participants could still encounter excellent opportunities. It just felt poorer on average. That shift alone was enough to make people substantially more helpful.
Professor Patricia Lockwood describes their approach as filling a gap. Whilst researchers have examined whether bystanders affect helping behaviour, or whether urgent situations prompt action, fewer have tested how the broader context of opportunities shapes prosocial decisions. The team believes their study is the first to robustly test environmental impact using a design that requires genuine physical effort, mirroring how real-world helping often demands we stop what we’re doing and exert ourselves.
Intriguingly, participants were equally sensitive to reward values when helping others in poor environments as when helping themselves in rich ones. It’s as though self and other became computationally more similar, depending on context. We’re all a bit selfish in rich environments, but only slightly selfish when times are lean.
The researchers also found that individual differences in empathy and utilitarian beliefs—the view that actions should maximise overall wellbeing—predicted how people weighted opportunity costs when deciding to help. Those scoring higher on these traits found helping less costly and acted more generously. Depression and anxiety levels, surprisingly, showed no relationship.
One challenge with measuring prosocial behaviour in laboratories is the artificiality. Economic games often present two options simultaneously: give money to yourself or split it with a stranger. But in everyday life, we’re rarely faced with such clean choices. Opportunities arrive sequentially. We’re doing something—working, scrolling, watching television—when an interruption appears. Help your partner with dinner, or finish this email? Donate to the charity collector, or hurry to your appointment?
By embedding decisions within an ongoing activity (watching a film participants genuinely enjoyed), the Birmingham team created a more ecologically valid test. The movie provided a realistic opportunity cost. Missing David Attenborough actually mattered.
The findings might eventually inform interventions. If changing the structure of opportunities people encounter can shift their willingness to help, perhaps we can design environments that encourage prosocial behaviour without relying solely on individual goodwill. Lockwood mentions that future studies could examine populations who struggle with helping behaviours, such as adolescents with conduct problems.
For now, the message is surprisingly optimistic. When faced with limited options, we become less picky about helping. There’s something almost hopeful in that—a suggestion that scarcity, rather than always breeding competition, can sometimes foster cooperation. The question is whether this laboratory finding translates to the messier, more complicated environments we actually inhabit.
Next time you’re scrolling through an overwhelming feed of worthy causes, each more urgent than the last, you might find yourself paralysed by choice. That’s the rich environment effect. But catch yourself in a quieter moment, with just one request for help, and you might be surprised by your own generosity.
Study link: https://www.nature.com/articles/s41467-025-66880-9
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