Reality Check

As I’ve written previously, I suspect people think they know more about so-called objective reality than they really do know. One manifestation of this is what we sometimes term a “conspiracy theory:” a mind, scanning the sensory landscape into which it is submerged, tags certain data elements as significant and overlays a system of causal relationships. The causality is always arguably plausible, and the theory appears to enable the person to successfully predict future events.

The plausibility and predictive utility of the theory are awfully seductive, of course, so it’s easy to recruit believers, who refine the theory and contribute new data points that they’ve observed. Soon, the theory takes on a life of its own.

This can be amusing and cute, as in the “Paul is dead” theories of the Beatles era.

Yet peoples’ conspiracy theories often disturb us as well. They unsettle us, because they can’t be dislodged by arguing “facts.” I can guarantee that you couldn’t persuade this guy, for instance, that the cloud formations he photographs have a benign explanation. He’d bury you. He’s a frickin’ meteorologist. He’s devoted his life to mustering facts that support his theories.

What’s more, conspiracy theories have a way of galvanizing people into “inspired action” — it gives them the added motivation of believing that their actions are in the service of something greater than themselves. So we read in the first piece I linked (by Massimo Polidoro, on the website of the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal):

What is sadly true is the fact that Charles Manson and his “family” also believed that there were hidden messages in Beatles songs hinting at the Armageddon. He thought that the Fab Four were actually angels sent by God to reveal the secrets of the approaching apocalypse and that, in order to start the end of the world, they needed Manson’s help. This is the tragically absurd reasoning he gave for the murder of Sharon Tate, the pregnant wife of film director Roman Polanski, and the guests she was hosting at their house in Hollywood.

I’m not a relativist. I believe there are absolutes out there, dangling from the firmament like the brightest of stars. But look at how we muddy them from our earthbound perspective.

And when I say “we,” I don’t just mean the “crazies.” All of us do it. Political beliefs, for instance, are more like, than unlike, conspiracy theories. Supported by selective data points that are linked together into causal relationships, rendered seductive by plausibility and predictive utility.

We need to find better ways to measure what we accept as true.

When in doubt

Think about something else.

In a series of studies with shoppers and students, researchers found that people who face a decision with many considerations, such as what house to buy, often do not choose wisely if they spend a lot of time consciously weighing the pros and cons. Instead, the scientists conclude, the best strategy is to gather all of the relevant information — such as the price, the number of bathrooms, the age of the roof — and then put the decision out of mind for a while.

Then, when the time comes to decide, go with what feels right. ”It is much better to follow your gut,” said Ap Dijksterhuis, a professor of psychology at the University of Amsterdam, who led the research.

Lots more in the article, written by Gareth Cook for the Boston Globe, by following the link.

It’s not who you know, but how little

The problem is, we may not know how little we know.

So claims Yale University psychology professor Frank Keil in this article. Keil has conducted research on the disconnect between what people think they know compared to what they actually do know.

We are good at estimating how well we know simple facts (such as the capitals of countries), procedures (such as how to make an international phone call), and narratives (such as the plots of well-known movies). But we seem to have a specific “illusion of explanatory depth” — the belief that we possess a more profound causal [emphasis mine] understanding than we really do. We can be appropriately modest about our knowledge of other things, but not so about our ability to explain the workings of the world.

This is particularly pronounced, Keil says, when the object of our faux understanding is a relatively complex object or system. Because complex systems are “richly hierarchical,” he explains, “they can be understood at several levels of analysis.” Unfortunately, we tend to confound a high-level understanding with a comprehensive understanding.

One can understand how a computer “works”  in terms of the high-level functions of the mouse, the hard drive, and the display while not having any understanding of the mechanisms that enable a cursor to move when a mouse is moved, or allow information to be stored and erased, or control pixels on a screen.

Yet once we’re able to explain how to save a file, or log onto the Internet, or defrag a harddrive, we slip into the illusion of believing we understand our computers.

We’re also vulnerable to this illusion, Keil continues, when the parts of the system are visible. “The more parts you can see, the more you think you know how those parts actually work.”

Keil’s piece confines itself to a discussion of physical phenomena, but it strikes me that the same can be said of our understanding of events–historical and current. Surf the ‘net tonight, for instance, and you’ll find as many theories about what’s going on in Iraq right now as you have time to read. People are writing about who was behind the bombing of the Golden Mosque, what their motivations were, and whether this represents civil war or not. Many of these explanations are delivered with supreme confidence.

But in every case, we have individuals who are working with the highly visible parts of a very complex phenomenon.

So, if Keil is right, the aforementioned confidence is actually supreme overconfidence. It’s not understanding; it’s the illusion of understanding.

Almost no one really understands what’s happening–the exception being the people who actually masterminded the bombing.

The same goes for every major event, from Bush’s deal to hand over commercial port operations to Dubai to — well, fill in the blank: _________________________.

We deceive ourselves when we assume that knowing what the pieces are, and how they fit together, is enough to proclaim causality.

And by the way, maybe the political divide in this country wouldn’t be so harsh if we all acknowledged this, eh?