Black Box Thinking

by Matthew Syed

  II

  In 2010 Jason Moser, a psychologist at Michigan State University, and colleagues took a group of volunteers and gave them a test.1 As part of the setup, an electroencephalography (or EEG) cap was placed on their heads. This consists of a number of electrodes that measure the voltage fluctuations in the brain.

  In effect Moser wanted to see what was happening at a neural level when the volunteers made mistakes. He was interested in two brain signals in particular. One is called Error Related Negativity, or ERN. This was discovered simultaneously (yet another example of multiple independent discovery) by two research teams in 1990, and is a negative signal, originating in the anterior cingulate cortex, a brain area that helps to regulate attention. This reaction is largely involuntary and is the inevitable brain response to making a mistake.

  The second signal under investigation was Error Positivity, or Pe. This is observed 200 and 500 milliseconds after the mistake and is associated with heightened awareness. It is a separate signal from ERN, emerges from a different part of the brain, and happens when we are focusing on our mistakes.

  Moser was aware that previous studies had shown that people tend to learn more rapidly when their brains exhibit two responses. First, a larger ERN signal (i.e., a bigger reaction to the mistake), and second, a steady Pe signal (i.e., people are paying attention to the error, focusing on it, so they are more likely to learn from it).

  Before beginning the experiment Moser divided the students into two groups according to how they answered a pre-set questionnaire. The questions were designed to elicit something called “mindset.” People in a Fixed Mindset tend to believe their basic qualities, like their intelligence or talent, are largely fixed traits. They strongly agree with statements like “You have a certain amount of intelligence, and you can’t really do much to change it.”

  People in a Growth Mindset, on the other hand, tend to believe that their most basic abilities can be developed through hard work. They do not think that innate intelligence is irrelevant, but believe that they can become smarter through persistence and dedication. As a group they tend to disagree with statements such as “Your intelligence is something about you that you can’t change very much.”

  Mindset is not quite as binary as it might sound. After all, most people tend to think that success is based on a combination of talent and practice. But the questionnaire forces volunteers to rate on a scale how we think about these issues. It drills down into our implicit beliefs and assumptions the thoughts that often drive our behavior when we haven’t got time to think.

  Once Moser had divided the volunteers into two groups and had placed the EEG cap on their heads, he began the experiment. The test was simple, if dull. The students had to identify the middle letter of a five-letter sequence such as BBBBB or BBGBB. Sometimes the letter was the same as the other four, sometimes it was different, and volunteers would make mistakes from time to time as they lost focus.

  As he looked at the electrical activity in the brain, however, Moser started noticing a dramatic difference in how the two groups responded to their mistakes. Those in both the Fixed and Growth Mindset groupings exhibited a strong ERN signal. Of course they did. Speaking metaphorically, the brain sits up and pays attention when things go wrong. Nobody likes to mess up, particularly on something as simple as identifying a letter.

  Yet, when it came to the Pe signal, the two groups were strikingly different. Those in a Growth Mindset recorded a signal that was vastly higher than those in a Fixed Mindset. Indeed, compared with those at the extreme end of the fixed spectrum, those in the Growth Mindset had a Pe signal three times larger (an amplitude of 15 compared with only 5). “That is a huge difference,” Moser has said.

  It was as if the brain in Fixed Mindset people were ignoring the mistakes; it was not paying attention to them. On the other hand, for those in the Growth Mindset, it was as if the mistake were of great interest; attention was directed toward it. What’s more, the size of the Pe signal was directly correlated with improvement in performance in the aftermath of mistakes.

  Moser’s experiment is fascinating because it provides a metaphor for many of the insights of this book. When we engage with our errors we improve. This is true at the level of systems, as we saw when we compared health care and aviation (or science and pseudoscience), and at the level of individuals, if we think back to prosecution lawyers in the aftermath of DNA exonerations. It is also true, in a manner of speaking, at the level of the brain.

  But it also explains why some people learn from their mistakes, while others do not. The difference is ultimately about how we conceptualize our failures. Those in the Growth Mindset, by definition, think about error in a different way from those in the Fixed Mindset. Because they believe that progress is driven, in large part, by practice, they naturally regard failure as an inevitable aspect of learning.

  Is it any wonder they pay attention to their mistakes and extract the learning opportunities? Is it any wonder they are not crushed by failure? And is it any wonder they are sympathetic to bottom-up iteration?

  Those who think that success emerges from talent and innate intelligence, on the other hand, are far more likely to be threatened by their mistakes. They will regard failures as evidence that they don’t have what it takes, and never will: after all, you can’t change what you were born with. They are going to be more intimidated by situations in which they will be judged. Failure is dissonant.

  Dozens of experiments have now established the broad behavioral consequences of this crucial dichotomy. In one experiment by the psychologist Carol Dweck and a colleague, eleven- and twelve-year-olds were given eight easy tests, then four very difficult ones. As they worked, the two groups exhibited startlingly different responses.2

  Here are the children in the Fixed Mindset grouping being described by Dweck: “Maybe the most striking thing about this group was how quickly they began to denigrate their abilities and blame their intelligence for the failures, saying things like ‘I guess I am not very smart,’ ‘I never did have a good memory’ and ‘I’m no good at things like this.’” Two-thirds of them showed a clear deterioration in their strategies, and more than half of them lapsed into completely ineffective strategies.

  And the kids in the Growth Mindset? Here is Dweck again:

  They didn’t even consider themselves to be failing . . . In line with their optimism, more than 80% maintained or improved the quality of their strategies during the difficult problems. A full quarter of the group actually improved. They taught themselves new and more sophisticated strategies for addressing the new and more difficult problems. A few of them even solved the problems that were supposedly beyond them.

  These differences are, on the face of it, remarkable. These were children who had been matched for ability. Dweck insured that they were all equally motivated by offering toys that the children had personally selected. And yet some persevered as the going got tough while others wilted.

  Why the stark difference? It hinged on mindset. For the kids in the Fixed Mindset group, with a static attitude to intelligence, failure is debilitating. It shows not just that you are not up to the job, but that you might as well give up. After all, you cannot change how much talent you have.

  For the kids in the Growth Mindset, everything changed. For them intelligence is dynamic. It is something that can grow, expand, and improve. Difficulties are regarded not as reasons to give up, but as learning opportunities. The children in this group spontaneously said things like “I love a challenge” and “Mistakes are our friend.”

  This is not just about ten- and eleven-year-olds, however; it is about the basic contours of human psychology. Let us move, for a moment, from the classroom to a two-year investigation into Fortune 1000 companies. Two psychologists conducted interviews with staff in seven top firms in order to probe their respective mindsets. The results were aggregated for each company to determine whether the overal
l culture had a growth or a fixed orientation.3

  They then looked at the attitudes in these firms. The differences were stark. Those in the Fixed Mindset companies were worried about mistakes, feared being blamed, and felt that errors were more likely to be concealed. They tended to agree with statements like “In this company there is a lot of cheating, taking shortcuts, and cutting corners” or “In this company people often hide information and keep secrets.”

  For those in Growth Mindset cultures, everything changed. The culture was perceived as more honest and collaborative, and the attitude toward errors was far more robust. They tended to agree with statements like “This company genuinely supports risk-taking and will support me even if I fail” or “When people make mistakes, this company sees the learning that results as ‘value added’” or “People are encouraged to be innovative in this company—creativity is welcomed.”

  It hardly needs stating that these are precisely the kinds of behavior that predict adaptation and growth. They are an almost perfect summary of the cultures of the successful institutions covered in the preceding chapters. Indeed, when it came to the question of whether an organization was rife with unethical or underhand behavior, those in Growth Mindset companies disagreed 41 percent more strongly than those in Fixed Mindset organizations.

  This evokes the intimate interrelationship between cognitive dissonance, blame, and openness, as mentioned in chapter 11. It is when a culture has an unhealthy attitude toward mistakes that blame is common, cover-ups are normal, and people fear to take sensible risks. When this attitude flips, blame is less likely to be preemptive, openness is fostered, and cover-ups are seen for what they are: blatant self-sabotage.

  In an e-mail from the head of HR in one of the most prestigious financial institutions in the world, I learned of the lengths that some of the most talented people can go to in order to avoid failure.

  When someone is given a new challenge, like giving a major presentation to clients, it is inevitable that they will be less than perfect the first time around. It takes time to build expertise, even for exceptional people.

  But there are huge differences in how individuals respond. Some love the challenge. They elicit feedback, talk to colleagues, and seek out chances to be involved in future presentations. Always—and I mean always—they improve. But others are threatened by the initial “failure.” In fact, they engage in astonishingly sophisticated avoidance strategies to insure they are never put in that situation ever again. They are sabotaging their progress because of their fear of messing up.

  III

  West Point is a training academy for aspiring army officers in the United States. Situated on high ground fifty miles to the north of New York City, it is regarded as one of the most formidable educational institutions in the world. In 2009 it was rated the top college in America by Forbes magazine.4

  The campus is legendary, with neo-gothic buildings hewn from black and gray granite. It hosts the United States’ oldest federal museum and the Patton monument, a bronze statue of the famous American cavalryman. Each year it also houses 1,200 new recruits, known as cadets, who hope to graduate into the officer class of the most powerful army in the world.

  Just to make it into the academy is tough. Aspiring cadets must receive a personal nomination from a congressman or another high-ranking member of the American establishment and must also excel on a battery of cognitive and physical tests. But once the cadets walk through the fabled gates of the academy, the real struggle begins.

  They have to undergo a super-tough initiation, a six-and-a-half-week regimen known as cadet basic training. This is to examine not just the intellectual and physical prowess of new recruits, but also their resolve. According to one academic paper, it is “deliberately engineered to test the very limits of cadets’ physical, emotional, and mental capacities.” West Point insiders call cadet basic training “Beast Barracks” or simply “The Beast.”

  The cadets live in spartan conditions and are awakened at 5 a.m. every morning. They have to complete physical exercises between 5:30 and 6:55 a.m., and engage in a series of morning classes to test intellect and reasoning before a new set of classes in the afternoon. In the late afternoon, there is organized athletics, before the cadets get ready for yet more training in the evening. They go to bed at 10 p.m.

  Trials include “ruck” marches, ten miles at a time up steep hills, while carrying loads of between 75 and 100 pounds. Then there is the so-called chamber, where cadets don gas masks and then enter a hut filled with tear gas. They have to remove their gas masks, read aloud the information on a sign on the wall, then take a breath before leaving the chamber. It is far from pleasant.

  Around fifty cadets drop out of West Point each year during Beast Barracks. This is unsurprising. The initiation is tough. As the official prospectus for students puts it: “This is the most physically and emotionally demanding part of the four years at West Point, and is designed to help you make the transition from new cadet to Soldier.”5

  For a long time the military regarded Beast Barracks as a way of separating the best from the rest. Indeed, they had a scientific measure of talent, called the Whole Candidate Score. This quantifies the attributes that are vital to getting through the initiation process. It measures physical prowess through such things as the maximum number of push-ups. It measures intelligence through SATs (a standard test). It measures educational ability through the Grade Point Average. It measures leadership potential. These, plus many other ingredients of talent, are then pulled together into a weighted average.

  These qualities are, of course, important. They doubtless reveal some of the attributes that are required to get through Beast Barracks. But they also seem to leave something out. What if the aspiring army officer has wonderful abilities, and huge reserves of physical strength, but lacks staying power? What if he drops out as soon as the going gets tough, or when he endures failure, despite being both incredibly strong and intelligent?

  In 2004, Angela Lee Duckworth, an American psychologist, approached military chiefs to ask if she could measure the “grit” of aspiring candidates at West Point.6 Her questionnaire had little of the sophistication of the Whole Candidate Score. It was just a five-minute survey asking respondents to rate themselves from 1 to 5 according to twelve basic statements such as “Setbacks don’t discourage me” and “I finish whatever I begin.”

  Duckworth wanted to find out if these aspects of character—in particular the willingness to persevere through failure—would prove to be a stronger predictor of who would make it through Beast Barracks than the army’s sophisticated Whole Candidate Score. The results were clear. When the test scores came back, the grit rating was a significantly superior predictor of success than the Whole Candidate Score. Duckworth carried on giving out the grit questionnaire for the next five years. It proved to be a more powerful predictor in every single year.

  Duckworth also approached the national director of the American Spelling Bee in 2005, and asked if she could test competitors. Spelling Bees are competitive tournaments in which youngsters have to spell increasingly difficult words. In the final round of the American Spelling Bee competition in 2013, for example, contestants had to spell words such as “kaburi” (a land crab); “cipollino” (a variety of marble); and “envoûtement” (a magical ritual).

  Again, the results were clear. Those with above-average grit scores were 40 percent more likely to advance to further rounds than their same-age peers. Indeed, a key advantage of those who excelled, according to Duckworth, was that “they were not studying the words they already know . . . [rather] they isolate what they don’t know, identify their own weaknesses, and work on that.”

  Duckworth also found that the same analysis applies in bigger, less selective settings. In one study, she and her colleagues looked at college résumés of aspiring teachers for evidence of grit. She then looked at how effective these people turned out to be as tea
chers in under-resourced communities. Grit, once again, was the key factor driving long-term success.

  The reason is not difficult to see: if we drop out when we encounter problems, progress is prevented, no matter how talented we are. If we interpret difficulties as indictments of who we are, rather than as pathways to progress, we will run a mile from failure. Grit, then, is strongly related to the Growth Mindset; it is about the way we conceptualize success and failure.

  One of the problems in our culture is that success is positioned as something that happens quickly. Reality television, for example, suggests or leads us to believe that success can happen in the time it takes to impress a whimsical judge or audience. It is about overnight stardom and instant gratification. This is one of the reasons why such programs are so popular with audiences.

  But success in the real world rarely happens in this way. When it comes to creating a dual-cyclone vacuum cleaner, learning how to take a world-class free kick, or becoming an expert chess player or military leader, success requires long application. It demands a willingness to strive and persevere through difficulties and challenges.

  And yet if young people think success happens instantly for the truly talented, why would they persevere? If they take up, say, the violin and are not immediately playing like a virtuoso, they are going to assume they don’t have what it takes—and so they will give up. In effect, the mistaken idea that success is an instant phenomenon destroys resilience.

  It is worth pointing out here that giving up is not always a bad thing. If you spend your life trying to build the Tower of Babel, you will waste your life. At some point you have to make a calculation as to whether the costs of carrying on are outweighed by the benefits of giving up and trying something new. These are some of the most important decisions we have to make.