I'm reading a book by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson entitled Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts. Both giants in the field of social psychology, Tavris and Aronson review 50 years of research on cognitive dissonance and self-justification, explaining how we tend to rationalize, justify, ignore, and evade evidence suggesting we’ve erred.
The fragile ego needs protection, after all.
Tavris and Aronson remark, “To err is human, but humans have a choice between covering up and fessing up.” And most often, when confronted with proof we’re wrong, become even more tenacious in our own self-deception and self-defense.
It’s easy to find public examples in politics and on Wall Street these days. Just last night as we watched 60 Minutes, I wondered how hedge fund managers who made MILLIONS of dollars on credit default swaps and derivatives could live with themselves as they watch the US economy crumble before their eyes. People are losing their homes, their retirement savings, their jobs.
The answer, of course, is that bankers and hedge fund managers and legislators responsible for the credit crunch live with themselves “exactly the way the rest of us do.” Now I’m not saying you or I have made bad decisions that impacted millions and millions of people (and Tavris and Aronson didn’t say that either).
What I am saying is the psychological process of self-justification that allows them to sleep at night is the same one that allows you or I to live with the knowledge we’ve screwed up and hurt those we love, perhaps deeply.
In the last 24 hours, I’ve had two opportunities to admit a mistake. I confess in the more emotional, personally meaningful situation, I responded just like social psychologists would predict (and their predictions are not usually very favorable). In the less emotional, more black-and-white business-related situation, I very quickly (though not without embarrassment) admitted my error, explained how it happened, expressed my sincerest apologies, and asked for a gracious response from the individual I wronged. (And I'm happy to say the situation was resolved positively.)
The difficult situation was an argument with my husband, who felt I was critical of his parenting behavior. I fairly quickly dug in my heels (“I did not criticize you”), justified my behavior (“You started it”), and walked away from additional confrontation (literally).
In the minutes that followed, what flashed through my mind was all the evidence to support my position, and a host of unspoken arguments to counteract his. I won’t list them here, and I’m glad that – at least this time – I kept all those not-so-kind words to myself. Keeping my mouth shut certainly isn’t my nature.
Without the prompting of Mistakes Were Made, I’m not sure I would have re-evaluated what happened yesterday. Actually, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have.
While I easily find fault with my hair (it’s flat today), my thighs (not as thin as they should be), my housekeeping (not a high priority), it’s much harder to see mistakes in my own behavior. I think that’s true for most of us. Real life requires a little (well, maybe a lot) of self-deception. We all make bad decisions at times, and sometimes our behavior hurts others. In order to feel like good, honest, caring, capable people, we justify it. Then we remember it selectively, culling out the parts that aren’t so flattering like we cut bad boyfriends out of our college photo albums.
While I still don’t believe I criticized him directly, I certainly see how my husband interpreted it that way. And I am truly sorry I hurt him. That seems like a step in the right direction. I admit I’ve got a ways to go.
Now if those hedge fund managers would fess up, we could all sleep better tonight.
