Why First Impressions Are Deceiving: Primacy and Recency Effects
Allow me (Rolf Dobelli) to introduce you to two men, Alan and Ben. Without thinking about it too long, decide whom you prefer. Alan is smart, hardworking, impulsive, critical, stubborn, and jealous. Ben, however, is jealous, stubborn, critical, impulsive, hardworking and smart. Who would you prefer to get stuck with in an elevator? Most people choose Alan, even though the descriptions are exactly the same. Your brain pays more attention to the first adjectives in the lists, causing you to identify two different personalities. Alan is smart and hardworking. Ben is jealous and stubborn. The first traits outshine the rest. This is called the primacy effect.
If it were not for the primacy effect, people would refrain from decking out their headquarters with luxuriously appointed entrance halls. Your lawyer would feel happy turning up to meet you in worn-out sneakers rather than beautifully polished designer oxfords.
Why We Take Aim at Young Guns: Social Comparison Bias
As one of my (Rolf Dobelli) books reached number one on the bestseller list, my publisher asked me for a favor. An acquaintance’s title was on the verge of entering the top 10 list, and the publisher was convinced that a testimonial from me would give it the necessary push.
It always amazes me that these little testimonials work at all. Everyone knows that only favorable comments end up on a book’s jacket. A rational reader should ignore the praise or at least consider it alongside the criticism, which is always available, albeit in different places. Nevertheless, I’ve written plenty of testimonials for other books, but they were never for rival titles. I hesitated: Wouldn’t writing a blurb be cutting off my nose to spite my face? Why should I help someone who might soon vie for the top slot? As I pondered the question, I realized social comparison bias had kicked in—that is, the tendency to withhold assistance to people who might outdo you, even if you look like a fool in the long run.
Why It’s Never Just a Two-Horse Race: Alternative Blindness
You leaf through a brochure that gushes about the benefits of the university’s MBA degree. Your gaze sweeps over photos of the ivy-covered campus and the ultramodern sports facilities. Sprinkled throughout are images of smiling students from various ethnic backgrounds with an emphasis on young women, young Chinese, and young Indian go-getters. On the last page you come to an overview that illustrates the financial value of an MBA. The $100,000 fee is easily offset by the statistical extra income that graduates earn before they retire: $400,000—after taxes. Who wouldn’t want to be up $300,000? It’s a no-brainer.
Wrong. Such an argument hides not one but four fallacies. First, we have the swimmer’s body illusion: MBA programs attract career-oriented people who will probably earn above-average salaries at some stage of their careers, even without the extra qualification of an MBA. The second fallacy: An MBA takes two years. During this time you can expect a loss of earnings—say, $100,000. So in fact the MBA costs $200,000, not $100,000. That amount, if invested well, could easily exceed the additional income that the brochure promises. Third, to estimate earnings that are more than thirty years away is idiotic. Who knows what will happen over the next three decades? Finally, other alternatives exist. You are not stuck between “do an MBA” and “don’t do an MBA.” Perhaps you can find a different program that costs significantly less and also represents a shot in the arm for your career. This fourth misconception interests me (Rolf Dobelli) the most. Let’s call it alternative blindness: We systematically forget to compare an existing offer with the next-best alternative.
During World War II, every nation produced propaganda movies. These were devised to fill the population, especially soldiers, with enthusiasm for their country and, if necessary, to bolster them to lay down their lives. The United States spent so much money on propaganda that the War Department decided to find out whether the expense was really worth it. A number of studies were carried out to investigate how the movies affected regular soldiers. The result was disappointing: They did not intensify the privates’ enthusiasm for war in the slightest.
Was it because they were poorly made? Hardly. Rather, the soldiers were aware that the movies were propaganda, which discredited their message even before they were rolling. Even if the movie argued a point reasonably or managed to stir the audience, it didn’t matter; its content was deemed hollow from the outset and dismissed.
How will the world look in fifty years? What will your everyday life be like? With which items will you surround yourself?
People who pondered this question fifty years ago had fanciful notions of how “the future” would look: Highways in the skies. Cities that resemble glass worlds. Bullet trains winding between gleaming skyscrapers. We would live in plastic capsules, work in underwater cities, vacation on the moon, and consume everything in pill form. We wouldn’t conceive offspring anymore; instead we would choose children from a catalog. Our best friends would be robots, death would be cured, and we would have exchanged our bikes for jet packs long ago.
But hang on a second. Take a look around. You’re sitting in a chair, an invention from ancient Egypt. You wear pants, developed about five thousand years ago and adapted by Germanic tribes around 750 BC. The idea behind your leather shoes comes from the last ice age. Your bookshelves are made of wood, one of the oldest building materials in the world. At dinnertime, you use a fork, a well-known “killer app” from Roman times, to shovel chunks of dead animals and plants into your mouths. Nothing has changed.
Why You Should Set Fire to Your Ships: Inability to Close Doors
Next to my (Rolf Dobelli) bed, two dozen books are stacked high. I have dipped in and out of all of them but am unable to part with even one. I know that sporadic reading won’t help me achieve any real insights, despite the many hours I put in, and that I should really devote myself to one book at a time. So why am I still juggling all twenty-four?
I know a man who is dating three women. He is in love with all three and can imagine starting a family with any of them. However, he simply doesn’t have the heart to choose just one because then he would be passing up on the other two for good. If he refrains from deciding, all options remain open. The downside is that no real relationship will develop.
Bruce is in the vitamin business. His father founded the company when supplements were not yet a lifestyle product; a doctor had to prescribe them. When Bruce took over the operation in the early ’90s, demand skyrocketed. Bruce seized the opportunity with both hands and took out huge loans to expand production. Today, he is one of the most successful people in the business and president of a national association of vitamin manufactures. Since childhood, hardly a day has passed without him swallowing at least three multivitamins. A journalist once asked him if they do anything. He replied: “I’m sure of it.” Do you believe him?
I (Rolf Dobelli) have another question for you: Take any idea you are 100 percent sure of: Perhaps that gold will rise over the next five years. Perhaps that God exists. Perhaps that your dentist is overcharging you. Whatever the belief, write it down in one sentence. Do you believe yourself?
Why You Are a Slave to Your Emotions: Affect Heuristic
What do you think of genetically modified wheat? It’s a complex issue. You don’t want to answer too hastily. A rational approach would be to consider the controversial technology’s pros and cons separately. Write down the possible benefits, weight them in terms of importance, and then multiply them by the probability that they will occur. Doing so, you get a list of expected values. Next, do the same with the cons. List all the disadvantages, estimate their potential damage, and multiply them by the likelihood of them happening. The positive sum minus the negative sum equals the net expected value. If it is above zero, you are in favor of genetically modified wheat. If the sum is below zero, you are against it. More than likely you have already heard of this approach. It is called “expected value,” and it features in most literature on decision theory. But just as probable is that you’ve never bothered to carry out such an evaluation. And without a doubt, none of the professors who wrote the textbooks turned to this method to select their spouses.
