Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error

“But by definition, there can’t be any particular feeling associated with simply being wrong. Indeed, the whole reason it’s possible to be wrong is that, while it is happening, you are oblivious to it.”

The author here describes “error-blindness.” Under this condition, our current misperceptions are necessarily invisible to us, and thus, we cannot consciously process our mistakes as we make them. Schultz details this conundrum as part of the text’s many examples of how the human mind is inherently bent on hiding its own error from itself.

“What with error-blindness, our amnesia for our mistakes, the lack of a category called ‘error,’ and our tendency to instantly overwrite rejected beliefs, it’s no wonder we have so much trouble accepting that wrongness is a part of who we are.”

This sentence summarizes the obstacles to accepting our wrongness, and Schulz contextualizes such traits as innately human. The four tendencies listed in the quote act as mental blocks that keep us from witnessing our own fallibility. These tendencies are defensive mechanisms that protect us from having to admit we are wrong.

“In this second, optimistic model of error, the experience of being wrong isn’t limited to humiliation and defeat. Actually, in this model, the experience of being wrong is hardly limited at all. Surprise, bafflement, fascination, excitement, hilarity, delight: all these and more are a part of the optimistic understanding of error.”

Here, the author introduces the optimistic model of error and its potential to dissolve the limitations of only experiencing negative emotions in the face of mistakes. Rather, this model enables all kinds of feelings, including pleasurable ones, to arise when we err. This quote illuminates the text’s subtitle: Adventures in the Margin of Error. Schulz sees error as an adventure, and this perspective informs the overall tone of the text.

“In fact, not only can any given theory be proven wrong; as we saw in the last chapter, sooner or later, it probably will be. And when it is, the occasion will mark the success of science, not its failure. This was the pivotal insight of the Scientific Revolution: that the advancement of knowledge depends on current theories collapsing in the face of new insights and discoveries. In this model of progress, errors do not lead us away from the truth. Instead, they edge us incrementally toward it.”

The author raises the topic of scientific progress—in which old theories inevitably fall away to new ones—and she extends this model to our belief systems in general, arguing that they operate similarly. As our theories about the world change, new beliefs emerge to replace old ones. This, the author argues, frames error in a different light of bringing us closer to the truth rather than further from it.

“Here, as everywhere, the pessimistic and optimistic models part ways on the fundamental meaning of wrongness. Our errors expose the real nature of the universe—or they obscure it. They lead us toward the truth, or they lead us astray. They are the opposite of reality, or its almost indistinguishable approximation—certainly as close as we mere mortals can ever hope to get. They are abnormalities we should work to eliminate, or inevitabilities we should strive to accept. They are essentially ‘monstrous.’ They are quintessentially human.”

The author contrasts the pessimistic and optimistic models of error. The pessimistic model views errors as obscuring the truth, leading us astray, and requiring elimination. Conversely, the optimistic model holds that errors bring us closer to the truth, are unavoidable, and are inextricable from what it means to be human. However, as Schulz catalogues points of difference, the chasm between the models becomes vivid, as does the implicit impact of those models.

“The mechanisms that form our perceptions operate almost entirely below the level of conscious awareness; ironically, we cannot sense how we sense. And here another bit of meta-wrongness arises. Because we can’t perceive these processes in action, and thereby take note of the places where error could enter the picture, we feel that we cannot be wrong.”

This passage is key to the author’s discussion on how our senses can fail us. Unconscious corrective processes of the brain are outside of our scope of sensation. Thus, the author argues, we assume our perceptions to be correct and do not consider the possibility that we could be wrong.

“In sum: we love to know things, but ultimately we can’t know for sure that we know them; we are bad at recognizing when we don’t know something; and we are very, very good at making stuff up.”

Here, the author makes some assertions about human nature in relation to error. As our senses can ultimately fail us, our knowledge is never certain, and we tend to fail at acknowledging gaps in our knowledge. Furthermore, when we find that we do not know something, we have a tendency to confabulate.

“Since we can’t sense our minds reconstructing memories from across multiple regions of our brain, we run into the same problem with memory that we had with perception. We can’t feel the process, so we can’t feel the places in that process where distortions and errors can creep in.”

This passage is part of the author’s discussion on the fallibility of the human mind regarding memory. As we are unable to witness the reconstruction of memories carried out by the brain, we feel confident that our recall is accurate. However, many studies have demonstrated how unreliable human memory is—another way in which error can emerge.

“Convictions like these organize our idea of who we are, as well as how we relate to our environment. As that suggests, and as we’ll see throughout this book, our beliefs are inextricable from our identities. That’s one reason why being wrong can so easily wound our sense of self.”

Here, the author explores the connection between our beliefs and our identity. Being wrong, says Schulz, provokes questions about the very nature of the self, resulting in an existential crisis that causes us to confront who we think we are. This idea—the relationship between belief and the self—is the linchpin to Schulz’s argument that error, viewed properly, can precipitate beneficial inner transformation.

“We care about what is probable. We determine what is probable based on our prior experience of the world, which is where evidence comes in: we choose the most likely answer to any given question based on the kinds of things we have (and haven’t) experienced in comparable situations.”

Our probabilistic thinking is a result of our inductive reasoning, which, Schulz argues, is a largely successful cognitive means of operating in the world. However, this mental process can lead us to jump to conclusions. Thus, the cognitive function that makes us right is also the one that can lead us to be wrong.

“Keep that balance intact, and all of us can experience the pleasures of communal life without fear of sacrificing our autonomy (to say nothing of our soul). Throw all the weight to one side or the other, though, and you unleash either the danger of an individual unrestrained by society, or the far greater danger of a society unrestrained by its individuals.”

This passage is part of a discussion on the influence of communities on our beliefs. Schulz lists many ways in which membership in a community can compromise our ability to scrutinize our beliefs. However, she does not condemn communal life but suggests that a balance between autonomy and communal life is necessary in order to keep both individuals and society at large in check.

“Certainty might be practical, logical, and evolutionary necessity, but the simplest truth about it is that it feels good. It gives us the comforting illusion that our environment is stable and knowable, and that therefore we are safe in it.”

The author raises the topic of the allure of certainty, a state in which we feel comfortable. Uncertainty, on the other hand, causes us to feel insecure, and thus we avoid this state and tend to form beliefs that make us feel assured. This dynamic further illustrates Schulz’s argument that our perspective on erring is hugely emotionally driven.

“There is the utterly primal nature of our emotional response in such situations: panic, anguish, rage. There is the fear that we don’t have the ability or resources to find our way again in the world.”

Here, the author notes our reaction to discovering we are wrong. The response, fundamentally emotional, involves fear that we have lost our way in the world. This fear also relates to a compromised sense of identity and self-understanding.

“If denial demarcates one extreme end of the range of possible answers to ‘how wrong?’, the other end is defined by acceptance.”

This quote presents the two polarized responses to discovering we are in the wrong. Schulz characterizes denial as a defense mechanism that protects us from the impact of concerning information or circumstances. However, it also shields us from the painful experience of being wrong.

“In fact, the frenetic theorizing that occurs in the aftermath of error represents one of the better things about being wrong: proof positive that our fallibility drives us to think and rethink, to be creative and to create.”

Schulz highlights the importance of generating theories that make up our belief systems. The process of producing such theories in the face of our mistakes enables us to learn and think beyond the prior, self-imposed limitations. Error thus leads to creativity and personal transformation.

“As Nagel suggested in his essay, denying the reality or value of experiences just because we ourselves can’t comprehend them verges on—and certainly creates the preconditions for—cruelty. In fact, this was the point of his essay: our failure to understand another being’s inner reality doesn’t make that reality any less real, or any less valuable to that being.”

This passage is included as part of Schulz’s discussion on relating to other people. Although we can never know the internal experience of another person, the author argues that other people’s worldviews should not be dismissed or invalidated. While the text details many confrontations with error that require courage or creativity, this particular point emphasizes the importance of humility; our individual understanding is not the measure of all things.

“Constantly reckoning with the possibility that we are wrong requires remaining aware of the chasm between us and the universe. It compels us to acknowledge that we can’t know with certainty the truth about each other or the world, beyond the certainty that, in the deepest and most final sense, we are alone.”

Schulz raises the issue of identity in relation to the inevitable gap between ourselves and the rest of the world. Knowing that we can never truly achieve certainty about another person causes us to examine our own identity as being in a state of aloneness. This conflict reveals another painful aspect to the experience of being wrong: alienation.

“What makes conversion stories distinctive in the annals of wrongness is that they don’t just involve a wholesale change in identity. In these stories, the experience of being wrong challenges and transforms our very sense of self.”

The author here discusses identity in terms of conversion—a transformation that can occur in the face of our mistakes. Schulz contends that conversion requires us to challenge our previously held beliefs, resulting in a fundamental shift in identity. This transcendent phenomenon is among the loftiest endeavors for which the text advocates.

“What is both philosophically and practically interesting about this question, however, is the paradox that lurks at its heart: if you want to try to eradicate error, you have to start by assuming that it is inevitable.”

Here, the author explores the paradox that attempting to eliminate error means accepting its inevitability. Embracing error as part of being human is necessary to combat its negative effects. Thus, Schulz makes the point that knowing we will make mistakes enables us to prepare ourselves for when we do.

“As its name suggests, incongruity theory posits that comedy arises from a mismatch—specifically, a mismatch between expectation and actuality. According to this theory, funny situations begin with attachment to a belief, whether that attachment is conscious or unconscious, fleeting or deep, sincerely held or deliberately planted by a comedian or a prankster. That belief is then violated, producing surprise, confusion, and a replacement belief—and also producing, along the way, enjoyment and laughter. In other words, the structure of humor is—give or take a little pleasure—the structure of error.”

This passage is part of the author’s discussion on the connection between error and comedy. She argues that this comic violation of our beliefs resembles the nature of error, where we replace our old beliefs with new ones when we realize our prior beliefs failed us. By drawing the comparison, Schulz fortifies her thesis that error can be positive.

“They recognize, as most of us do, not just the legitimacy but also the potential beauty and power of individual, skewed, inaccurate representations of reality. In this model, the link between error and art is not an indictment of art but a defense of error.”

Art has historically been characterized as a misrepresentation of reality, or at least as an inferior reality. Such “misrepresentations,” however, have beauty and impact. Thus, art embraces error, creating works that inspire pleasure.

“Virtually all fictional narratives contain some element of strategic withholding, hoodwinking, and revealing, and we simply can’t get enough of it. We love to be kept guessing—and what’s more, we are happiest when all of our guesses prove wrong.”

Literary suspense demonstrates some benefits of error. In such works, we enjoy being misled and ultimately being wrong. This is an instance in which error is welcome in its ability to surprise us. Schulz’s analysis of literary suspense resembles her take on comedy; both cases center on the element of surprise.

“For every species, then, error is a mechanism of survival and change. For us human organisms, with our richer relationship to wrongness, mistakes enable not only our biological evolution but our social, emotional, and intellectual evolution as well.”

Schulz makes the point that errors in genetic replication are necessary for a species to thrive. However, she extends this biological principle to greater human development. Thus, we must err in order to learn and grow.