Opinion: In uncertain times, certainty is over-rewarded

The psychological analogy of the fox and hedgehog offers a valuable lesson in uncertain times. Photo / Getty Images

Type the words "kind of", "probably" or "perhaps" into an email in Microsoft Outlook and the program might well tell you to think again. If the artificial intelligence-powered "Microsoft Editor" decides you're not sounding decisive enough, it will warn you: "Words expressing uncertainty lessen your impact."

To me, this suggestion encapsulates something we've got wrong in society. Leaving aside the extent to which Big Tech is creeping ever further into our lives, it highlights a broader issue: we live in a world that rewards those who speak with conviction — even when that is misplaced — and gives very little airtime to those who acknowledge doubt.

During a global pandemic caused by a new virus, it is understandable that people have clung to anyone who seems authoritative — witness the rise of armchair epidemiologists, who often seem more confident about what they're saying than the qualified scientists themselves. "We are drawn to, and more inclined to listen to, those pundits who tell us a simple, clear, confident story. Why? Because that's psychologically satisfying," says Dan Gardner, author of "That's saying 'let me sweep away the uncertainty for you'."

Research shows that the human brain is hard-wired to hate uncertainty: a 2016 study published in Nature Communications found that when volunteers were given electric shocks, their stress levels were highest when they had no idea whether they were going to be given a shock or not — higher even than subjects who were told they definitely would get one.

While confident-sounding pundits might be giving us what our brains crave, the relief they are providing is probably illusory. As the mathematician John Allen Paulos once said, "uncertainty is the only certainty there is". That is particularly true in the context of a novel virus about which so much is yet to be understood.

Yet overconfident "thought leaders" and other public figures are usually the ones who get the most newspaper headlines and biggest social media followings. Psychology professor Philip Tetlock, with whom Mr Gardner co-authored the book, ran a series of "forecasting tournaments" between 1984 and 2003, in which he found that, somewhat perversely, there was an inverse correlation between the fame of forecasters and their ability to predict the outcomes of events.

Prof Tetlock divided up forecasters into "foxes" and "hedgehogs", a distinction first popularised by the philosopher Isaiah Berlin. Foxes consider all sorts of different approaches and perspectives, and synthesise those into nuanced conclusions. Hedgehogs tend to view the world through the lens of one single defining idea. That makes the hedgehogs worse forecasters but more likely to get attention.

Perhaps we care less about the truth and more about being lulled into some sense of security, however ephemeral that might be. You only need to look at the devotion of Donald Trump's followers to see this — the US president certainly needs no help in choosing words that have "impact". And it makes sense that when we're all feeling anxious and making so many sacrifices, we would want to feel that some adults somewhere know what they're doing.

But wouldn't it be better if we held "experts" and leaders to account? Mr Gardner suggests one way to do this would be to tag speakers with some kind of record of previous predictions, much as we are given performance statistics for racehorses or baseball players.

Highly confident statements also foster polarisation, encouraging others to respond in the same kind of language when they disagree. "There's a natural tendency to push back with equal amounts of resoluteness," says Daniel Drezner, a political scientist.

Is it time to give a bit more attention to the foxes? I should admit here that I am quite an uncertain person — a bit of a fox, in fact. I used to think I would never be able to write opinion columns because I'm never quite sure exactly where I stand. Yet here I am, full of certainty on the need to stop paying so much attention to those expressing certainty. Take this as you will, then.

- Financial Times