In economics, commitment devices are often seen as clever solutions to self-control problems—ways people can tie their future hands to avoid giving in to temptation. A smoker throws away their cigarettes, a dieter pays in advance for healthy meals, a student announces a deadline publicly so they can’t back out. The idea is that by limiting future choices, a person can force themselves to stick with a preferred long-term strategy. But commitment devices also show up in places far removed from personal productivity—and in some cases, they carry bad unintended consequences when the strategic landscape shifts.
Consider the case of gang tattoos, especially those associated with MS-13. For years, highly visible tattoos served as a powerful way to demonstrate loyalty to the group. These tattoos—sometimes covering the face, neck, or arms—weren’t just aesthetic. They signaled that the individual was fully committed to the gang. In economic terms, they functioned as a high-cost, hard-to-fake commitment device. By making oneself easily identifiable as a gang member, a person burned bridges to legitimate employment or life outside the gang. That might seem irrational at first glance, but it was often a rational decision in context. Within certain neighborhoods or prisons, that signal provided protection, status, and trust among peers. The visible commitment reduced the gang’s uncertainty about who was loyal and who might defect.
But the rules of the game changed. In March 2022, El Salvador launched an aggressive crackdown on gangs following a sharp spike in homicides. Under a sweeping “state of exception,” authorities suspended constitutional rights, arrested tens of thousands of people, and expanded prison capacity dramatically. Tattoos quickly became one of the easiest ways for police to identify and detain suspected gang members. News reports describe men being pulled from buses or homes not for current criminal activity, but simply because of the ink on their skin. In many cases, the tattoos were from years earlier—when the wearer had been young and immersed in a world where signaling loyalty felt necessary for survival. Now, those same signals serve as evidence in court or grounds for indefinite detention.
Similar dynamics have played out in the United States, especially during the Trump administration’s immigration and gang enforcement efforts. Tattoos were frequently cited in court filings as evidence of gang affiliation, and immigration judges used them to justify deportations.
There is growing evidence that many gang members now regret the tattoos. Some go through painful laser removal procedures. In some communities, new gang recruits are discouraged from getting tattoos, or are instructed to keep them hidden, as a way to reduce law enforcement attention. The very tool that once protected them has become a trap—a commitment device that locked them into a strategy long after its benefits disappeared.
This offers a broader lesson about commitment in economics and in life. Commitment devices are only valuable when the strategic environment remains stable. A commitment that helps today might backfire tomorrow if the incentives change. For students or professionals, this lesson applies to many forms of signaling—whether it’s a bold statement on social media, a visible lifestyle choice, or even career specialization. The more public and irreversible the commitment, the more one must consider how resilient it is to change. Gang tattoos offer an extreme case, but the underlying logic holds everywhere: before you tie yourself to a mast, make sure you understand which direction the winds are blowing.
The even broader lesson is to think about more than just whether you are winning the game you are playing. Are you playing the right game? Here’s a reflective post on that, inspired by Tyler’s talent book What Ladders Are You Climbing? Is the game about to change? College-educated workers heading in the era of AI might have some practical questions to ask about what game they will actually be playing in the future.