Illusory Superiority

This is actually a field within Social Psychology. In general, I am trying to avoid it these days, but the Wikipedia article on Illusory Superiority is really good. The most interesting thing I learned from the article is that people find any member of a group to be above the median of the group itself. Also: people rate themselves less better compared to specific individuals than to the abstract “average”. I think this has something to do with how we find it easier to empathize with a single individual than with a group—even a group of two. (Sorry that I don’t have a reference for this; I heard it on On The Media last week.)

Worse Than Average Effect

There is another effect—the opposite of Illusory Superiority: The Worse Than Average Effect. This is the tendency for people to under-estimate their chances of doing something that they think they have a very low chance of doing. For example, people tend to underestimate how likely they are to find a $20 bill on the ground during the next two weeks.

After writing this article (when I had read about the WTA effect, but did not write about it), I thought, “Yeah, right; that’s not going to happen to me.” It had happened: four years earlier, but I expected it to never happen again. While writing, I estimated my chances of finding a twenty in the next two weeks at about one-half of one percent. That meant that I should find a $20 bill on the ground every four years, so if my estimate was right, I was due.

It turned out that nine days later, I found a $20 bill on the ground. Freaky cool.

80% of All Statistics

Many years ago, I was introduced to the snarky statistic that 80% of drivers believe they are above average. This annoyed me from the start. Initially, I thought it was just another useless statistic; its snarky meaning had to be explained to me, “You see—idiot—only 50% of drivers can be above average; so at least 30% of the people are fooling themselves!”

The statistic has the feel of an urban legend. It seems reasonable—but then such stories always do. In fact, it appeals to my prejudice (very common among the kind of people who would pass on such information) that people over-estimate their own skills and under-value those of others. Just like an urban legend. And, of course, there is no real reference, and one has to wonder who would pay to find out how many people think their driving is better than it really is. (It turns out that a number of people would; see the caveat at the end.)

The biggest problem is that the snarky aspect of this “fact” is incorrect. It is quite possible for 80% of a population to be above the average (mean). Just imagine if driver quality were rated on a scale of 0 to 100. Further, imagine that there were ten drivers with the following ratings: 0, 100, 100, 100, 100, 100, 100, 100, 100, 100. Clearly, the average would be less than 100 and so 90% of the population would be “above average”. (I’m slow, not stupid.) This is hardly a normal distribution, however. And you would think that driver ability would be a normal distribution, or something like it. (But maybe not; my father thinks that the road is filled with “idiots” and him.)

At this point, the worst case scenario is that someone comes forward with an actual study that shows, more precisely: 80% of drivers believe they drive better than the median. On its face, this cannot be factually true: 50% of a population must be above the median and 50% must be below; this is the definition of “median”. However, this too is a ridiculous claim and leads me to the whole point of this article.

What does it mean to be a good driver? We must know this before we can know if one driver is better than another. For one person, a good driver might be one who can control his car at high speeds. For another, it may be one who always drives the speed limit. Given that most people are rather good at the kind of driving they value—and thus practice regularly—it is surprising to me that only 80% consider themselves “above average”. [caveat]

People are foolish. And at least in political matters, people tend to under-estimate others. For example, Americans consistantly over-estimate how racist their neighbors are: almost always rating them as more racist than they rate themselves. But this is exactly the appeal of this little statistic: “I am not one of those silly people who think that their driving is better than it really is.” My driving, however, definitely is above average.

[Caveat: Illusory Superiority]

Justice as Commerce

One could say that the justice system in the USA where prosecutors have most of the power and a career/financial interest in convicting the guilty and innocent is nothing but commerce. I will need to think another couple of decades on this issue.

Non-Reversible Errors

I have long felt that Scott Turow taught me how to write a novel. In particular, I experienced an epiphany while reading his third novel Pleading Guity. It was probably just that it was the third novel of his that I had read, and that I had figured out his tricks. Although I have previously thought that Turow is a character-oriented writer, he is in fact a plot-oriented writer—clever and capable in his way. Regardless, he did not teach me everything I needed to know about writing a novel—it took me seven years and many aborted attempts to complete my first, deeply flawed and largely lost novel Camping on Asphalt. But I can say this for sure: Turow showed me how to trick the reader. And I am strip-mining that territory in my current work on Treading Asphalt. [Note]

I just read Turow’s sixth novel Reversible Errors. Here’s my review: it’s a Scott Turow novel. Other than that, I don’t want to go into all the reasons that this is an entirely workman-like effort, fiction by the numbers—the same numbers we have seen in his previous five novels. If you like his books, you will probably like this one. It annoyed me for a couple of reasons, but the main reason was its treatment of the romantic subplot. (Don’t worry, there are no real spoilers here, even though I talk about events at the beginning and end of the novel.)

The main character, Arthur, becomes involved with a woman who used to be a judge, but is no longer because she was convicted of taking bribes. This is pretty bad, because judges are supposed to come to just decisions and when justice becomes a bidding war, it becomes simple commerce. [Note] Arthur does not seem to have a problem with this, perhaps just because he has the hots for her. Fine. One nice thing about Turow is that he has always been willing to show that people over thirty have sex drives (often more explicitly than I would prefer in such a novel).

We know from the beginning, however, that the judge was really being bribed because some people in power knew that she was a heroin addict. When Arthur finds this out he does what pretty much all Americans do when they hear the word heroin: freak out. Thomas Metzger has written wonderfully on the history of perceptions of heroin from its invention to the present in The Birth of Heroin. As Metzger points out, the modern perception of heroin is as a dirty, evil “other”. And this is precisely why people like Turow approach it as though it were the worst thing in the world.

Arthur can deal with the judge committing felonies that have a direct effect on her job. But he can’t deal with her drug choices. A corrupt, drunk judge: yes. A junkie judge: no. The novel ends with the judge begging for Arthur’s forgiveness. Arthur gives it. But what Arthur really needs is a clue. As does Turow.