evolved to depend on our sight, and a huge part of our brain is dedicated to vision. But how often do our eyes deceive us? Have a look at the two tables below.
If I asked you which table is longer, the narrow one on the left or the fat one on the right, most people would naturally pick the one on the left. And if you were one of them, you’d be wrong. The lengths of both tables are exactly the same (go on, measure them if you don’t believe me). Okay, let’s try it again.
Which table is longer this time? Wouldn’t you bet anything that the one on the left is still longer? You know the answer, and yet your brain continues to deceive you. The one on the left still looks longer. Your eyes haven’t caught up with your brain. “Our intuition is fooling us in a repeatable, predictable, consistent way,” Ariely said at a memorable TED Talk. “And there is almost nothing we can do about it.”
So if we make these mistakes with vision, which in theory we’re decent at, what’s the chance that we don’t make even more mistakes in areas we’re not as good at—financial decision making, for example? Whether or not we think we make good financial decisions, or poor ones, we assume we’re in control of the decisions we do make. Science would suggest we’re not.
Just like the visual illusions we’re susceptible to, Ariely told me later in an interview that he chalks up many of our decision-making mistakes to “cognitive illusions.” A case in point: If you were to walk into your local Department of Motor Vehicles tomorrow and be asked the question “Do you want to donate your organs?” what do you think you would say? Some of us would immediately say yes, and think ourselves selfless and noble. Others might pause or balk or be turned off by the gruesomeness of the question and decline. Or maybe you’d punt and say you need time to think about it. Regardless, you’d assume that your decision is based on free will. You are a competent and capable adult, qualified to determine whether or not to donate your organs to save a life.
But here’s the thing: a lot of it depends on where you live. If you are in Germany, there’s about a one-in-eight chance you’ll donate your organs—about 12% of the population does. Whereas in Austria, Germany’s next-door neighbor, 99% of people donate their organs. In Sweden, 89% donate, but in Denmark, the rate is only 4%. What gives? Why such a disparity?
Could it be about religion, or a fear factor? Is it based on culture? It turns out the answer is none of the above. The huge disparity in donor rates has absolutely nothing to do with you personally or your cultural heritage. It has everything to do with the wording on the form at the DMV.
In countries with the lowest donor rates, like Denmark, there is a smallbox that says, “Check here if you want to participate in the organ donor program.” In countries with the highest rates, like Sweden, the form says, “Check here if you don’t want to participate in the organ donor program.”
That’s the secret! Nobody likes to check boxes. It’s not that we don’t want to donate our organs. That little bit of inertia makes all the difference in the world!
If a problem is too overwhelming, we tend to just freeze and do nothing. Or we do what’s been decided for us. It’s not our fault. It’s the way we’re wired. The problem with organ donation is not that people don’t care, it’s that they care so much. The decision is difficult and complicated, and many of us don’t know what to do. “And because we have no idea what to do, we just stick with whatever is chosen for us,” says Ariely.
This same sense of inertia, or picking what has been chosen for us, helps explain why only a third of American workers ever take advantage of available retirement plans. It explains why so few of us have made a financial plan for our futures. It seems complicated. We’re not sure what to do, so we punt, or we do nothing at
Kathryn Kelly, Crystal Cuffley