
IT’S Sunday morning and I’m feeling a bit impulsive, so I head to a cafe near my home in London for breakfast. I open the menu and see the following:
Breakfast Menu
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Full English breakfast £9.95
Smoked salmon & scrambled eggs £5.95
Waffles with maple syrup £4.75
Boiled egg and soldiers £4.00
What would you have picked? I went for the smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. And a surprising number of you would have done the same.
Why so? Understanding the often irrational factors that affect how we make decisions has been a key aim of psychologists over the past few decades – and we’re just getting to the stage where we can begin to apply their insights.
That menu first. The reason why many of us would plump for the smoked salmon (besides, perhaps, liking smoked salmon) is to do with something called relativity. That’s not Einstein’s theory, but rather our tendency to be awful at assessing something’s value without being given something to compare it with. As of Duke University in Durham, North Carolina, puts it in his book Predictably Irrational, humans “don’t have an internal value meter that tells us how much things are worth”.
“Awareness of mental biases is good for more than just being smart with our money”
In this case, the presence of the rather expensive-looking full English breakfast makes the smoked salmon seem like good value. Take the full English off the menu, and more of us will choose one of the two cheaper options. Regardless of whether anyone actually buys the full breakfast, then, its presence means that we’re shelling out more than we otherwise would.
A similar effect, known as anchoring, often kicks in when we’re out shopping. Say we have £50 to spend on shoes. We see a pair we like for £100, way above our budget. Then we see a similar pair reduced to £75, and without much thought snap them up. The first price anchors the idea that the second price represents a bargain: we end up thinking we’ve made a saving when in fact we’ve spent more than we can afford.
Such foibles persist regardless of the size of a purchase. Another phenomenon called hyperbolic discounting means we tend to overvalue what’s available now relative to what we can have later – one reason why many people find it hard to invest in a pension scheme (see “Exponential growth“). Then there’s the sunk-cost fallacy, the tendency to stick with something we have already invested in even if all the signs point to this being a bad idea. The classic example is the supersonic jet, Concorde, which never made any money in all the decades it was flying.
There are good reasons why such biases are embedded in our psyches. They have evolved to help us make quick decisions with limited information and difficult decisions with large amounts of hard-to-assess information; to continue foraging in an area that’s becoming depleted of fruit or move on to another part of the forest where richer pickings are not necessarily on offer, for example.
But to make more logical, calculated decisions in the complex modern world we need different mental formulae. And there are some simple ways to construct these. A list might include getting yourself or someone else to play devil’s advocate to any significant decision; identifying and discounting any sunk costs; and working methodically to eliminate options one by one before coming to a final decision.
Awareness of our cognitive biases is good for more than simply being smart with our money. It might also help limit the scope for mental blips to cause major disasters, for instance (New Scientist, 15 August, p 28). In the wider realm of economics, models that take better account of real humans’ irrational decision-making are coming more into vogue to explain events such as the crash of 2008, the better to avoid them in the future. When it comes to improving our futures, it’s all in the mind.
(Image: Helen Yin/Getty)
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This article appeared in print under the headline “Need to know: Cognitive bias”