Month: August 2019

The Dunning-Kruger Reality

One of my favorite psychological concepts is the Dunning-Kruger effect.

This effect — named for the psychologists who discovered it — explains a common cognitive bias.

In particular, it describes the gap between how we think we perform at a task and how we actually perform at that task.

The Dunning-Kruger effect proclaims that those who are the most confident in their performance are, in fact, all too often overconfident.

For example, if someone is convinced they crushed an exam, there’s a pretty good chance they got a B instead. And if someone thinks they’re the best at the task they do, there’s a good chance they’re actually solidly above average.

This effect is more pronounced in men than in women. And since it’s a metacognition error, the person affected has no way of recognizing the predicament they’re in.

To borrow some old-school Hip-Hop lingo, those afflicted by the Dunning-Kruger effect are acting a fool, with no ability to check themselves before they wreck themselves.

There are many reasons to be intrigued by the Dunning-Kruger effect.

For one thing, it can serve as karmic justice who talk a big game yet fail to deliver. For another, it can provide scientific backing to the Schadenfreude we feel when those with the biggest egos get knocked down a few pegs by reality.

Most of all, can make us seem slightly less cruel when calling out people for their misplaced hubris. After all, saying You Dumbass is subjective. Saying You made an error in judgment that any of us could have also made is objective.

Yet, this is not what intrigues me about the Dunning-Kruger effect. For I see this effect as more than just a vehicle for derision.

I see it as an explanation of where we are as a society today.

If you’ve been paying attention to the news in recent years, you’ve likely noticed two themes.

Powerful men in media and entertainment have seen a reckoning, as the women they’ve exploited have held them to account. And powerful men in politics have acted more brazen and boisterous than ever, with seemingly no one in place to hold them to account.

It’s a strange dichotomy. One group of powerful men falling, and another group seemingly becoming infallible.

Yet, while these men are on opposing career trajectories, they have one thing in common: A large group of detractors.

The detractors despise these men. For who they are, what they’ve done and what they’re still doing. As such, they haven’t been shy in voicing their displeasure.

Yet, when these detractors describe their sworn enemies, they all too often use E words.

Entitled. Egotistical. Evil.

I think these detractors are off track. The word I think more accurately describes the powerful men in question starts with an O.

Overconfident.

I believe these men are mired deep in the quicksand of Dunning-Kruger effect. So deep that they’ve become delusional.

The ingredients are all in place for this explanation.

These men were raised in the early generations of Bro Culture. Many of the transgressions of their youth were often dismissed with the phrase Boys will be boys.

As they grew up, success seemed to follow them anywhere they went. Whether through talent or connections, they were able to make it to the next level with relative ease. Fame and fortune followed.

The result was predictably toxic.

A group of men who never learned boundaries with an outsized sense of confidence and too much power. The Dunning-Kruger effect on the biggest of stages.

The transgressions and blunders that followed were, sadly, predictable. Whenever that much unchecked overconfidence is in place, delusion sets in, and collateral damage piles up.

Tragically, that collateral damage has ruined many women’s lives and jolted international diplomacy and trade. It’s led to an era marked by mistrust, anger and polarization.

The world as we know it is getting sucked into the maelstrom. All because of a destructive condition we can’t control.

Or can we?

 

I am a terrible dancer.

I know it. I believe it. And I’m not shy in admitting it.

Whenever I’m at a party, I make it abundantly clear that I’m not going to be dancing.

I do this for self-preservation. It’s not just that I can’t bust a move. I’m literally afraid to try and do so.

Yet, as the night goes on and my friends get a few drinks in, they inevitably drag me onto the dance floor.

And each time, something interesting happens. I find out I’m not as bad at dancing as I thought I was.

I’m no Patrick Swayze or Bruno Mars, of course. But I can hold my own.

This revelation represents the other side of the Dunning-Kruger effect.

In Dunning and Kruger’s initial studies, they not only found a large group of people who were overconfident in their performance on a given task, but they also found several people who underestimated their abilities on the same task.

There are several explanations for this. On a basic level, people exhibiting this behavior might have experienced failure before, along with the dreaded sensation of FUD (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt). These feelings, on their own, can raise apprehension and lower confidence.

But when you factor in all the overconfident people out there — the very ones who are exposed as frauds by the Dunning-Kruger effect — things get interesting.

Could it be that the underconfident people equate confidence with ability? That they see the people with the biggest bravado and exclaim There’s no way I’m at that level?

It could be so. And indeed it is.

Underconfident people often battle something called Imposter Syndrome. Even when they see visceral success, they often believe they are not truly qualified for the task, and it’s only a matter of time until they’re found out.

I myself frequently battle Imposter Syndrome — in my job, in my social life, and even occasionally when writing these articles.

It’s a crippling phenomenon. One only exacerbated by the Dunning-Kruger effect.

Someone battling Imposter Syndrome is likely to see an overconfident person as a standard bearer for achievement. While the actual gap in performance between the two might be small or nonexistent, the underconfident person will feel as if they just don’t measure up.

This thinking is problematic in our culture. Our society favors boldness and self-belief; Imposter Syndrome is all too often viewed as a self-created roadblock to realizing our own potential — one that must be eradicated at all costs.

Yet, given what we now know about Dunning-Kruger effect, I wonder if that’s the right tact to pursue.

If boldness makes us delusional and causes a trail of collateral damage that polarizes our society, is it really the best ideal to strive for?

Perhaps it would be better to let that FUD slip into our lives. To put ourselves in position to fail now and then so that we know where the guardrails lie. To estimate our abilities off our own experience, rather than the flawed self-assessments of others.

If we can do all that, then perhaps someday Dunning-Kruger effect wouldn’t be the catastrophe-maker it currently is. It could become a quaint psychological term to describe the select few who resist their better angels. The few who would still insist on talking the talk without walking the walk.

The rest of us would be grounded in reality. The reality of life in its rawest, purest form.

I’d sign up for a future like that. Would you?

Chasing vs. Accepting

Shoot for the stars.

Go for gold.

Dream it. Do it.

We’ve probably heard some advice like this over the years.

We are hard-wired to be relentless. To go full-throttle after that which we seek in order to achieve it.

It’s a cultural legacy.

From our earliest days, we’re being conditioned to chart our own destiny.

Parents, teachers and mentors tell us to dream big. To try hard. To ignore doubts and fears.

This is the same advice their parents, teachers and mentors once told them. And it’s the same advice we’ll likely tell our own kids.

The idea behind this advice is harmless enough. If we set a goal and work towards it, we can sustain success.

Yet, even the noblest of causes can lead to complications. And this advice is not immune to such problems.

Chief among them is the issue of chasing vs. accepting.

Dreaming big is a noble cause. But it’s also decidedly one-sided cause.

If we truly lean in to this advice, we become chasers. We find ourselves chasing after our dreams and desires, which always seem to lie a few steps ahead of us.

We might end up realizing some of these dreams. But likely not all.

For example, many boys in America dream of playing Major League Baseball. I was once one of them.

I set my goal and worked toward it. But I wasn’t talented enough to make it.

I know that now, of course. Truth be told, I knew that then. But I was so focused on the dream it, do it doctrine that I kept chasing my objective until the trail went cold.

Around the time all of this was going on, Michael Lewis released a book called Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game. The book chronicled the 2002 Oakland Athletics, who claimed a division title without a lineup of high-priced star players.

It was an underdog story with a twist.

In near desperation, the Athletics turned to advanced analytical models to assemble their roster. This practice bucked 100 years of tradition in terms of scouting and evaluating talent. It also allowed the A’s to field a winning team on a shoestring budget.

In the years since Moneyball, many other teams have adopted these principles. Teams now have advanced analytics departments, often staffed with twentysomethings who probably would have ridden the bench in Little League.

These employees might have had the same dreams I did as a kid. Given the fact that they work for professional baseball teams, I would imagine that many did.

But, unlike me, they accepted their shortcomings. They recognized where their skills truly lay, and managed to parlay them into a new version of success.

Many of us would do well to follow their lead.

One of my favorite pieces of literature is the Serenity Prayer.

God, give me grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, Courage to change the things that should be changed and the Wisdom to distinguish one from another.

Here, in 31 words, is a roadmap for bringing dreams into reality.

The Serenity Prayer hits us with the hard truth. There are some things we have control over, and others that will forever remain beyond our grasp. It’s up to us to recognize where that dividing line lies, and not to cross it.

Yet, I fear that we are all too often deluded into believing that there is no divide. There is nothing that we should accept. There is still more that we do to be the change we seek.

This is foolish.

For, if one person out there achieves their dreams under this doctrine, there are likely four others who will waste years of effort on what can ultimately be classified as a delusion.

Their talents are better exercised elsewhere.

This doesn’t have to be a nail in the coffin of their hopes. Much like the baseball analytics employees, they might even be able to parlay their latent talents into a role that achives their goals in a new way.

But it starts with accepting that which cannot be changed, as early as possible. And then pivoting accordingly.

How have I followed the advice of the Serenity Prayer in my own life?

Not well at all.

Well, at least not until recently.

I have always had a knack for writing. While I didn’t grow up a bookworm, writing has always come easy to me, and I’ve enjoyed putting thoughts to paper.

Even so, my dreams generally lay elsewhere.

First, I wanted to be a baseball player. Then, I wanted to be a movie director.

I saw both roles as a path to notoriety, and shock therapy for my introverted nature. I could be the person I believed society expected me to be, all while producing work that people could refer to.

It was only in college when I recognized my delusions and shifted course accordingly.

I ended up getting my degree in broadcast journalism. Then I spent three years as an executive news producer at the ABC affiliate in Midland, Texas.

By finally accepting that which I could not change and chasing that which I could, I realized the dreams I hadn’t realized I had.

Yet, I quickly found that dreams are not all they’re cracked up to be.

For while I was passionate about assisting my community through the newscasts I put together, I was crumbling under the stress, odd hours and low pay. And the tragic nature of the news stories I covered ultimately gutted me.

I got out of the industry and started over. In doing so, I went right back to chasing dreams.

But what dreams? Aside from a stable lifestyle, I had no idea what to pursue.

My winding journey led me to the world of digital marketing, where I am now a seasoned veteran. It also eventually led me to pursue an MBA while working full-time — something I would have considered preposterous just years earlier.

But in the midst of all this chasing, I found room for acceptance as well.

I realized I missed writing. I missed sharing my words with the world.

I accepted that. But I also acted on it.

I launched Words of the West after making two promises to myself: I would share my truth with an eye toward improving society and I would publish regularly. Ultimately, the promise to publish regularly became a commitment to put out a new article each week.

This is the 200th of these articles.

This feat has not been easily attained. Showing up 200 weeks in a row is challenging in any context.

Yet, by accepting that writing will always be an important part of my life and chasing an ambitious goal related to it, I have persevered.

Yes, this forum has finally allowed me to live into the tenets of the Serenity Prayer. And my life is better for it.

So, what’s the actual secret to success? Determination? Passion? Talent?

I believe the answer is actually a healthy mix of accepting and chasing.

When we accept what we cannot change, we can set adequate boundaries. We can determine what’s worth chasing after, and how to pursue it most effectively.

Doing this might clip the wings on our sense of freedom. It might threaten our ability to dream as wide as the Texas sky.

But ultimately, it will help us fulfill our destiny faster. With fewer fits and starts along the way.

Chasing. Accepting. They’re two sides of the same coin.

It’s about time we recognized that.

The Truth To Power Paradox

Speak Truth to Power.

It’s an American rallying cry.

These words have come through as gospel time and again throughout our history, from the Boston Tea Party to the Civil Rights Movement. They’re even anchored in our Constitution, courtesy of the First Amendment.

We have long admired the truth-tellers, the rabble-rousers, the muckrakers. They have helped give a voice to the voiceless and keep corruption in check.

Indeed, the underdog is a particular favorite of our culture for this very reason. The ability to speak truth to power gives us hope.

Yet, this phrase carries with it an inherent irony.

For success in this case is subversive.

The ultimate goal of speaking truth to power is to evoke change.

Yet, the initiative in question is not the only thing turned on its head by this shift. So are the power dynamics.

Think about it.

Those who speak truth to power and succeed often end up toppling those on high. In doing so, they assume the figurative position of the fallen.

They fill the vacuum. They become the power.

And with that role change comes the hefty weight of responsibility.

The eyes of others remain on the ascendant truth to power speakers. But now, those eyes look with suspicion.

For within that crowd lies the next wave of truth-tellers. If an opportunity arises, they will strike swiftly and ruthlessly.

Those with power and influence will fall. The new breed will rise.

And so the cycle perpetuates, like the ebb and flow of a tide.

This might sound ruthless. Even cutthroat. But it is inevitable.

Those that take the escalator of accountability to prominence will eventually find themselves cut down. Much like our own existence, our time of influence is not unlimited.

This process cannot quite be summarized by the phrase Heavy Lies The Crown. After all, many truth-tellers are simply seeking transparency, not prestige.

No, this process is instead akin to The Principle Overrides The Person.

The system we have cultivated is bigger than any of us. It has to be.

Much like America itself — a grand experiment in constitutional democracy — the ability to speak truth to power is meant to be timeless.

The people who exercise this right with agility are mere footnotes to the greater ideal. In the grand scheme of things, they’re pawns to be used and disposed of.

I recognize this idea is controversial. Maybe even distressing.

But having cut my teeth in the ultimate truth-to-power profession — journalism — I’ve found it to be the truth.

As a young TV news producer, I prodded at the gatekeepers. I did my best to ensure the local police and sheriff’s offices were above board, civic governance bodies were transparent and major employers were not exploiting the community.

This was not a difficult task in West Texas during the midst of an oil boom. The entire community rallied around its Cash Cow product. Big city crime and corruption were hardly to be found.

Still, I took my job seriously. I kept prodding.

At first, I didn’t realize the power that I was wielding with this approach, or the weight it carried. After all, my check-ins with the movers and shakers of the region were only one part of my job, interspersed with coverage about knife fights at a local Whataburger and teenagers doing donuts in the median of the highway in stolen Jaguars.

(Yes, both of those stories really happened.)

But I soon came to understand the full weight of my responsibility.

One day, about 18 months into my tenure, I found a treasure of a story to include on the evening newscast.

Down near Big Bend, a woman had rescued a bunch of severely malnourished horses from across the Rio Grande in Mexico and nursed them back to health. She was preparing to adopt them out when I caught wind of her exploits.

Unfortunately, I had been working 14 hour shifts for much of that week, and I made an egregious typo on the news script for the story.

Instead of writing the word adoption, I put auction.

The error made it onto the 5 PM newscast. A few hours later, word got back to the woman, who called the station irate and threatened to sue.

We collectively did what we could to right the wrong. We made corrections and did our best to make amends. But the damage had been done.

Until that moment, I had been speaking truth to power. Now, I was the one being called into account. My job and my good name were on the line, because of a typo I whiffed on catching.

Ultimately, I survived. I got written up, but was able to keep my job.

Still, I will never forget that feeling where the tables turned on me. When I felt the heat of the spotlight I had so brazenly cast on others previously.

I can only imagine how the true veterans of the Truth to Power paradox feel.

People like John Lewis.

Lewis was a key figure in the Civil Rights Movement. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. might have gotten the notoriety — and rightly so — but John Lewis was right there with him.

After spending his youth fighting for and attaining civil rights, John Lewis has spent three decades fighting for the people in the U.S. House of Representatives. He has gone from speaking truth to power to becoming part of that power machine.

During his time on Capitol Hill, Lewis has served with dignity and grace. He has put the people first.

Yet, when people call out Congress as a body, they call out John Lewis. He is one of the 535 lawmakers in the Capitol. Even he, a national hero, is not immune to the Truth to Power paradox.

So, how can we improve this process? How can we make the world a better place without ending up as the villain?

I think we can start with a new perspective on power dynamics. By understanding the unique pressures those on high face, but also the boundaries they should not cross. By recognizing when to hold those above us in account and when to back off.

This perspective can make leadership desirable, instead of a fool’s errand. It can provide a forum for aspirations to flourish, while providing a needed barrier against exploitation.

This is only one potential solution. It might not be the best one. But it’s a start.

Ultimately, one thing is clear. Speaking truth to power, in itself, is not a panacea.

Let’s keep searching for better.

On Smoking

When I was growing up, eating out usually meant one thing.

A trip to Red Robin.

I loved Red Robin.

I remember the chicken fingers and steak fries. The helium machine the staff used to inflate balloons for my sister and I. And one question the restaurant host would never fail to ask when my parent asked for a table.

Smoking or non-smoking.

The answer was always the latter. Even if it meant a 30 minute wait with two hungry and impatient children in tow.

I always found it strange that the other side of the restaurant — the one behind a pane of glass — was so empty, while we were forced to wait by the host station with only those balloons as entertainment.

Many years later, I found out exactly what I was missing out on.

As a young TV news producer, I would often go to the Buffalo Wild Wings in Midland, Texas to watch football games or grab a drink with co-workers. Whenever I did, an unwelcome visitor tagged along — cigarette smoke.

The Midland Buffalo Wild Wings didn’t have a smoking section. The entire place was the smoking section. The same went for just about any other bar or restaurant in West Texas back then.

So, after a night out, you would need to throw your clothes in the wash. Or else, you’d smell like a chimney for days to come.

I mention these memories because of how quaint they seem today. We live in a world where smoking sections in restaurants have gone the way of payphone. Which is to say they’ve all but disappeared.

Yet, the act of smoking has not.

I don’t understand the tradition of smoking.

How could I?

In my life, I’ve only ever smoked three cigarettes.

All were during my freshman year of college, when my poor decision making was at its zenith.

Frankly, I’m surprised that I even got to three cigarettes. Because I didn’t enjoy the experience anytime I lit up.

The thick tobacco smoke clogged my lungs, making me cough. With each drag, it felt like tar was constricting my airway. (Fitting, because tobacco residue is frequently called tar.)

I found none of this pleasurable. Frankly, I felt dirty inside and out once I’d disposed of the cigarette butts.

Even if I hadn’t despised the experience so much, it’s unlikely I would have tried to light up much more. Even in my college years, I had no desire to add a nicotine addiction — and its long-term health risks — to my repertoire.

After all, my family had a longstanding aversion to tobacco. There was a reason my parents avoided the smoking section at Red Robin like it was the bubonic plague.

My grandfather — the one I’ve written about extensively before — had a heart attack when my mother was 4 years old. Formerly a heavy smoker, he gave up the habit cold-turkey after that. Something unheard of in the Mad Men era of the 1960s.

On my father’s side, my grandfather is a longtime family physician. He knows too much about the dangers of smoking to have ever picked up the habit. To my knowledge, neither of my grandmothers have ever smoked either.

So, in an era where cigarettes were as popular as fashion or candy, my parents grew up in tobacco-free homes. And while my mother had a rebel streak in her adolescence, buying cigarettes by the pack was never part of the equation.

Two generations in, I grew up in a segregated world — smokers and non-smokers. The cultural war was in full swing. And I was raised on the tobacco-free side of it.

As I neared adolescence, that side closed in on victory.

The United States government sued the pants off of Phillip Morris — and won. Cigarette ads went into hiding. A mockumentary lampooned Big Tobacco and its lobbyists. And cities and states started to ban smoking in bars and restaurants.

A half-century after smoking was a cultural standard, society was largely smoke-free. And even though I dabbled with cigarettes in college, I had no desire to linger any more on the wrong side of history.

Yet, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Don’t call it a comeback.

Really, please don’t.

Years after the fall of Big Tobacco, smoking seems to be back in vogue.

Young adults who were toddlers when the government beat Phillip Morris are smoking Marlboros today. If not that, they’re taking a puff from their Juul e-Cigarette.

This has me perplexed, and more than a bit concerned.

For the formal manipulations designed to turn vulnerable young adults into cash cows for the tobacco companies have eroded. Gone are the neon signs, the magazine ads, and the ashtrays every 10 feet.

There is no good reason to assume our rising generation is getting duped into something dangerous. And there are only so many bad actors out there using peer pressure to get others to light up.

No, I believe the rise in new tobacco is part of a broader cultural shift.

For decades, young adults have wanted it their way, without compromise. But often, the intersection of society and logistics stood in their way.

It was hard to have a night out on the town without risking a DUI on the way home. It was challenging to connect with people based far away. And it was nearly impossible to speak out and demand a change in cultural values.

Even after needed change swept the country with civil rights legislation, societal values remained conservative. The old guard tradition of the working man and the picture-perfect family stood tall.

Yet, with the rise of the Internet and smartphone technology, much has changed.

Young adults can now connect with nearly anyone, anywhere. They can party until dawn and then hail a ride home with a stranger, using the computer in their pocket. And they have a megaphone that cuts through the static of tradition and allows their voice to be heard.

Young adults have it all. There’s nothing and no one to hold them back.

This is a good thing. It’s led to openness and change throughout society.

But that power does not discriminate.

So, if young adults want to vape from an e-Cigarette, or smoke a traditional one, no one’s going to stop them. Haranguing them on the risks is tantamount to restricting their freedom.

The issue is that the risks are real.

Nicotine is an addictive substance, no matter the form it comes in. And addictions are destructive.

Smokers risk their health — physically or financially — each time they take a drag. While that is their right and their choice, it is not solely their responsibility.

We have a chance to put a cap to this second wave of smoking. To curb the spread of e-cigarettes — and the slow creep of traditional ones — by indicating that such behavior is not desirable in our society.

It is on us to take responsibility. It is our duty to take these actions.

I say this not just because of my own opinions on smoking — those should be clear by now. No, I say this because we are the final hope to deal the final blow against the ills of tobacco.

The future is in our hands. Let it not slip away.