Lately, the concept of Dunning-Kruger effect has been bandied around locally. The idea was to embellish their discourse to prove a point. David Dunning and Justin Kruger are two scientists from Cornell University, who in 1999 tested participants in the area of logic, grammar and humor! Back then, I wondered how the respondents fared in the test. Apparently, those who performed in the bottom quartile rated themselves above average.
The examiners attributed this tendency to ‘metacognition,’ a process that can be explained away as ‘thinking about your thinking,’ not exactly à simple act.
Do our senators think about their thinking? In the act, what do they achieve?
One of the most terrifying prospects is that if, for example, politicians were game enough to participate in the experiment, it is possible that they reach conclusions and errors but due to their incompetence, they may not realize it at all. It is as if you know but you do not know. It is a painful ending.
At the core of these difficulties is confidence. We put a lot of premium on it that we cannot lose face; we put on the mask of confidence at the expense of truth. There is also this common perception that our skills and talent in one domain or area can be transferred to another, as if genius is a moveable feast. Or that, our skills as a professor of philosophy can be moved into the area of post-modern literature. Imagine an individual like this. The Dunning-Kruger effect says this can bring about overconfidence. Depending on the system in which certain individuals operate, the end-product is arrogance.
There are studies indicating that, following Psychology Today, the Dunning-Kruger effect points to à compelling fact-overconfidence is strongest among the worst performers. The context for this is in the domain of chess.
We can simplify the Dunning-Kruger effect as a cognitive bias.
This bias says individuals with limited knowledge have the tendency to exaggerate their own know-how in an area. I particularly like the metaphor of Mount Stupid. Think of a real mountain. À peak. On the summit of that Mountain Stupid is overconfidence, which you arrived at after learning a small amount of knowledge about a topic. Because you have arrived at the peak, you develop this illusion that you have gained enough mastery about the subject matter. This is part of the confidence curve, which includes the Valley of Despair, in which, confidence about a knowledge sinks (knowledge about other politicians?). Then there is the third, the Slope of Enlightenment, where we expect our leaders to continue to study if only to match what they know.
There is a much-quoted line from David Dunning, which says: ‘Not knowing the scope of your own ignorance is part of the human condition. The problem with it is we see it in other people but we don’t see it in ourselves.’
The more I go deeper in these studies, the more I fear that we may be creating multiple echo chambers. I would like to bring down the topic to the level of local politics, where these concepts could matter. Will our local leaders care? May they discuss the implications of these tests and implications?
Given the antiseptic and non-judgmental nature of these tests, will they find humor in the social experiment? We can test Senator Aquino, for example, in tandem with Senator Gatchalian and let them see the humor in questions that aim to validate concepts of looking into the nature of their ‘thinking about their thinking.’ There will be no pressure to excel, but simply to rethink. It should be fun.
Two senators can face each other and measure their ‘confidence’ and ‘overconfidence.’ Who knows these concepts of overconfidence and confidence may not exist among our senators, afterall tests have crucial cultural component to it.
This will be our learning as members of the civil society and their lessons as our esteemed politicians.
Who remembers Caligula and his ‘foolish Roman Senator’?
Caligula was always portrayed as a stuttering, dumb emperor. But, seated or standing with his foolish Senator, Caligula was either a madman or the most enviable Satirist. His foolish Roman Senator, after all, was a horse, fitted with the most expensive jewels. His name was Incitatus. Caligula did not only want him elevated to the Senate; the emperor was on his way to making Incitatus into a Consul.
Historians remained conflicted as to whether all these grand and silly plans were realized. These could have been metaphors. Or hallucinations.
If there’s one conclusion that we, modern man and ancient thinkers, can agree upon is that the act of Emperor Caligula to make his horse Incitatus into a Senator is to mock the Senate and its lack of power and to show his contempt for the institution.
Do we have the chance to do this? Do we have Incitatus in our midst?