Fooled by Randomness shows how we mistake luck for skill in life and business.
The following are the key points I highlighted in this book. If you’d like, you can download all of them to chat about with your favorite language model.
There are many intellectual approaches to probability and risk—“probability” means slightly different things to people in different disciplines.
How? Probability is not a mere computation of odds on the dice or more complicated variants; it is the acceptance of the lack of certainty in our knowledge and the development of methods for dealing with our ignorance.
In this book, considering that alternative outcomes could have taken place, that the world could have been different, is the core of probabilistic thinking.
One can illustrate the strange concept of alternative histories as follows. Imagine an eccentric (and bored) tycoon offering you $10 million to play Russian roulette, i.e., to put a revolver containing one bullet in the six available chambers to your head and pull the trigger. Each realization would count as one history, for a total of six possible histories of equal probabilities. Five out of these six histories would lead to enrichment; one would lead to a statistic, that is, an obituary with an embarrassing (but certainly original) cause of death. The problem is that only one of the histories is observed in reality; and the winner of $10 million would elicit the admiration and praise of some fatuous journalist (the very same ones who unconditionally admire the Forbes 500 billionaires). Like almost every executive I have encountered during an eighteen-year career on Wall Street (the role of such executives in my view being no more than a judge of results delivered in a random manner),
I will just say at this point that researchers of the brain believe that mathematical truths make little sense to our mind, particularly when it comes to the examination of random outcomes. Most results in probability are entirely counterintuitive
The notion of path, as opposed to outcome, indicates that it is not a mere MBA-style scenario analysis, but the examination of a sequence of scenarios along the course of time. We are not just concerned with where a bird can end up tomorrow night, but rather with all the various places it can possibly visit during the time interval. We are not concerned with what the investor’s worth would be in, say, a year, but rather of the heart-wrenching rides he may experience during that period. The word sample stresses that one sees only one realization among a collection of possible ones. Now, a sample path can be either deterministic or random, which brings the next distinction.
Stochastic processes refer to the dynamics of events unfolding with the course of time. Stochastic is a fancy Greek name for random.
With all that information available to him, his perfect track record (and therefore, in his eyes, an above-average intelligence and skill-set), and the benefit of sophisticated mathematics, how could he have failed? Is it perhaps possible that he forgot about the shadowy figure of randomness?
The initial sample size matters greatly. If there are five monkeys in the game, I would be rather impressed with the Iliad writer, to the point of suspecting him to be a reincarnation of the ancient poet. If there are a billion to the power one billion monkeys I would be less impressed—as a matter of fact I would be surprised if one of them did not get some well-known (but unspecified) piece of work, just by luck (perhaps Casanova’s Memoirs of My Life). One monkey would even be expected to provide us with former vice president Al Gore’s Earth in the Balance, perhaps stripped of the platitudes.
Here we take a far simpler situation where we know the structure of randomness; the first such exercise is a finessing of the old popular saying that even a broken clock is right twice a day.
Generate a long series of coin flips producing heads and tails with 50% odds each and fill up sheets of paper. If the series is long enough you may get eight heads or eight tails in a row, perhaps even ten of each. Yet you know that in spite of these wins the conditional odds of getting a head or a tail is still 50%. Imagine these heads and tails as monetary bets filling up the coffers of an individual. The deviation from the norm as seen in excess heads or excess tails is here entirely attributable to luck, in other words, to variance, not to the skills of the hypothetical player (since there is an even probability of getting either).
Chaos theory concerns itself primarily with functions in which a small input can lead to a disproportionate response.
The Polya process can be presented as follows: Assume an urn initially containing equal quantities of black and red balls. You are to guess each time which color you will pull out before you make the draw. Here the game is rigged. Unlike a conventional urn, the probability of guessing correctly depends on past success, as you get better or worse at guessing depending on past performance. Thus, the probability of winning increases after past wins, that of losing increases after past losses. Simulating such a process, one can see a huge variance of outcomes, with astonishing successes and a large number of failures (what we called skewness).
As I said in Chapter 3, mathematics is merely a way of thinking and meditating, little more, in our world of randomness.
Ask your local mathematician to define probability; he would most probably show you how to compute it. As we saw in Chapter 3 on probabilistic introspection, probability is not about the odds, but about the belief in the existence of an alternative outcome, cause, or motive.
Suddenly I started getting some irritating fawning respect. Drs. Merton and Scholes helped put your humble author on the map and caused interest in his ideas. The fact that these “scientists” pronounced the catastrophic losses a “ten sigma” event reveals a Wittgenstein’s ruler problem: Someone saying this is a ten sigma either (a) knows what he is talking about with near perfection (the prior assumption is that it has one possibility of being unqualified in several billion billions), knows his probabilities, and it is an event that happens once every several times the history of the universe; or (b) just does not know what he is talking about when he talks about probability (with a high degree of certainty), and it is an event that has a probability higher than once every several times the history of the universe.
Cognitive Biases and Decision Making
It is as if there were two planets: the one in which we actually live and the one, considerably more deterministic, on which people are convinced we live. It is as simple as that: Past events will always look less random than they were (it is called the hindsight bias).
(not coincidentally also dominated by Daniel Kahneman, the pioneer of the ideas on irrational behavior under uncertainty).
Psychologists have shown that most people prefer to make $70,000 when others around them are making $60,000 than to make $80,000 when others around them are making $90,000.
I start with the platitude that one cannot judge a performance in any given field (war, politics, medicine, investments) by the results, but by the costs of the alternative (i.e., if history played out in a different way).
Clearly, the quality of a decision cannot be solely judged based on its outcome, but such a point seems to be voiced only by people who fail (those who succeed attribute their success to the quality of their decision).
Mathematics is not just a “numbers game,” it is a way of thinking.
Even scientists with all their sophistication in calculating probabilities cannot deliver any meaningful answer about the odds, since knowledge of these depends on our witnessing the barrel of reality—of which we generally know nothing.
There are some (though very few) who will call you to express their gratitude and thank you for having protected them from the events that did not take place.
The interesting thing about these physicists did not lie in their ability to discuss fluid dynamics; it is that they were naturally interested in a variety of intellectual subjects and provided pleasant conversation.
Try the following experiment. Go to the airport and ask travelers en route to some remote destination how much they would pay for an insurance policy paying, say, a million tugrits (the currency of Mongolia) if they died during the trip (for any reason).Then ask another collection of travelers how much they would pay for insurance that pays the same in the event of death from a terrorist act (and only a terrorist act). Guess which one would command a higher price? Odds are that people would rather pay for the second policy (although the former includes death from terrorism). The psychologists Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky figured this out several decades ago. The irony is that one of the sampled populations did not include people on the street, but professional predictors attending some society of forecasters’ annual meeting. In a now famous experiment they found that the majority of people, whether predictors or nonpredictors, will judge a deadly flood (causing thousands of deaths) caused by a California earthquake to be more likely than a fatal flood (causing thousands of deaths) occurring somewhere in North America (which happens to include California).
Take the mad cow “threat” for example: Over a decade of hype, it only killed people (in the highest estimates) in the hundreds as compared to car accidents (several hundred thousands!)—except that the journalistic description of the latter would not be commercially fruitful.
Part of conventional wisdom favors things that can be explained rather instantly and “in a nutshell”—in many circles it is considered law.
I remind myself of Einstein’s remark that common sense is nothing but a collection of misconceptions acquired by age eighteen. Furthermore, What sounds intelligent in a conversation or a meeting, or, particularly, in the media, is suspicious.
Mathematics is principally a tool to meditate, rather than to compute.
It is a platitude that children learn only from their own mistakes; they will cease to touch a burning stove only when they are themselves burned; no possible warning by others can lead to developing the smallest form of cautiousness. Adults, too, suffer from such a condition. This point has been examined by behavioral economics pioneers Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky with regard to the choices people make in selecting risky medical treatments—I myself have seen it in my being extremely lax in the area of detection and prevention (i.e., I refuse to derive my risks from the probabilities computed on others, feeling that I am somewhat special) yet extremely aggressive in the treatment of medical conditions (I overreact when I am burned), which is not coherent with rational behavior under uncertainty.
I will repeat this point until I get hoarse: A mistake is not something to be determined after the fact, but in the light of the information until that point.
The opportunity cost of missing a “new new thing” like the airplane and the automobile is minuscule compared to the toxicity of all the garbage one has to go through to get to these jewels (assuming these have brought some improvement to our lives, which I frequently doubt). Now the exact same argument applies to information. The problem with information is not that it is diverting and generally useless, but that it is toxic. We will examine the dubious value of the highly frequent news with a more technical discussion of signal filtering and observation frequency farther down.
(It takes a huge investment in introspection to learn that the thirty or more hours spent “studying” the news last month neither had any predictive ability during your activities of that month nor did it impact your current knowledge of the world.
“For the gods perceive things in the future, ordinary people things in the present, but the wise perceive things about to happen.”
Table 3.1 Probability of success at different scales Scale Probability 1 year 93% 1 quarter 77% 1 month 67% 1 day 54% 1 hour 51.3% 1 minute 50.17% 1 second 50.02% At the end of every day the dentist will be emotionally drained. A minute-by-minute examination of his performance means that each day (assuming eight hours per day) he will have 241 pleasurable minutes against 239 unpleasurable ones. These amount to 60,688 and 60,271, respectively, per year. Now realize that if the unpleasurable minute is worse in reverse pleasure than the pleasurable minute is in pleasure terms, then the dentist incurs a large deficit when examining his performance at a high frequency. Consider the situation where the dentist examines his portfolio only upon receiving the monthly account from the brokerage house. As 67% of his months will be positive, he incurs only four pangs of pain per annum and eight uplifting experiences. This is the same dentist following the same strategy. Now consider the dentist looking at his performance only every year. Over the next 20 years that he is expected to live, he will experience 19 pleasant surprises for every unpleasant one! This scaling property of randomness is generally misundderstood, even by professionals. I have seen Ph.D.s argue over a performance observed in a narrow time scale (meaningless by any standard). Before additional dumping on the journalist, more observations seem in order. Viewing it from another angle, if we take the ratio of noise to what we call nonnoise (i.e., left column/right column), which we have the privilege here of examining quantitatively, then we have the following. Over one year we observe roughly 0.7 parts noise for every one part performance. Over one month, we observe roughly 2.32 parts noise for every one part performance. Over one hour, 30 parts noise for every one part performance, and over one second, 1,796 parts noise for every one part performance. A few conclusions: 1. Over a short time increment, one observes the variability of the portfolio, not the returns. In other words, one sees the variance, little else. I always remind myself that what one observes is at best a combination of variance and returns, not just returns (but my emotions do not care about what I tell myself). 2. Our emotions are not designed to understand the point. The dentist did better when he dealt with monthly statements rather than more frequent ones. Perhaps it would be even better for him if he limited himself to yearly statements. (If you think that you can control your emotions, think that some people also believe that they can control their heartbeat or hair growth.) 3. When I see an investor monitoring his portfolio with live prices on his cellular telephone or his handheld, I smile and smile.
An overestimation of the accuracy of their beliefs in some measure, either economic (Carlos) or statistical (John). They never considered that the fact that trading on economic variables has worked in the past may have been merely coincidental, or, perhaps even worse, that economic analysis was fit to past events to mask the random element in it. Consider that of all the possible economic theories available, one can find a plausible one that explains the past, or a portion of it. Carlos entered the market at a time when it worked, but he never tested for periods when markets did the opposite of sound economic analysis. There were periods when economics failed traders, and others when it helped them.
Denial. When the losses occurred there was no clear acceptance of what had happened. The price on the screen lost its reality in favor of some abstract “value.” In classic denial mode, the usual “this is only the result of liquidation, distress sales” was proffered. They continuously ignored the message from reality.
How could traders who made every single mistake in the book become so successful? Because of a simple principle concerning randomness. This is one manifestation of the survivorship bias. We tend to think that traders were successful because they are good. Perhaps we have turned the causality on its head; we consider them good just because they make money. One can make money in the financial markets totally out of randomness.
The problem is that we read too much into shallow recent history, with statements like “this has never happened before,” but not from history in general (things that never happened before in one area tend eventually to happen). In other words, history teaches us that things that never happened before do happen.
No amount of observations of white swans can allow the inference that all swans are white, but the observation of a single black swan is sufficient to refute that conclusion.
Another logical flaw in this type of historical statement is that often when a large event takes place, you hear the “it never happened before,” as if it needed to be absent from the event’s past history for it to be a surprise. So why do we consider the worst case that took place in our own past as the worst possible case? If the past, by bringing surprises, did not resemble the past previous to it (what I call the past’s past), then why should our future resemble our current past?
There are only two types of theories: 1. Theories that are known to be wrong, as they were tested and adequately rejected (he calls them falsified). 2. Theories that have not yet been known to be wrong, not falsified yet, but are exposed to be proved wrong.
Indeed the difference between Newtonian physics, which was falsified by Einstein’s relativity, and astrology lies in the following irony. Newtonian physics is scientific because it allowed us to falsify it, as we know that it is wrong, while astrology is not because it does not offer conditions under which we could reject it. Astrology cannot be disproved, owing to the auxiliary hypotheses that come into play. Such point lies at the basis of the demarcation between science and nonsense (called “the problem of demarcation”).
I am an exceedingly naive falsificationist. Why? Because I can survive being one. My extreme and obsessive Popperism is carried out as follows. I speculate in all of my activities on theories that represent some vision of the world, but with the following stipulation: No rare event should harm me. In fact, I would like all conceivable rare events to help me. My idea of science diverges with that of the people around me walking around calling themselves scientists. Science is mere speculation, mere formulation of conjecture.
Memory in humans is a large machine to make inductive inferences. Think of memories: What is easier to remember, a collection of random facts glued together, or a story, something that offers a series of logical links? Causality is easier to commit to memory. Our brain would have less work to do in order to retain the information. The size is smaller. What is induction exactly? Induction is going from plenty of particulars to the general. It is very handy, as the general takes much less room in one’s memory than a collection of particulars. The effect of such compression is the reduction in the degree of detected randomness.
If one puts an infinite number of monkeys in front of (strongly built) typewriters, and lets them clap away, there is a certainty that one of them would come out with an exact version of the Iliad. Upon examination, this may be less interesting a concept than it appears at first: Such probability is ridiculously low. But let us carry the reasoning one step beyond. Now that we have found that hero among monkeys, would any reader invest his life’s savings on a bet that the monkey would write the Odyssey next? In this thought experiment, it is the second step that is interesting. How much can past performance (here the typing of the Iliad) be relevant in forecasting future performance? The same applies to any decision based on past performance, merely relying on the attributes of the past time series.
For common wisdom among people with a budding knowledge of probability laws is to base their decision making on the following principle: It is very unlikely for someone to perform considerably well in a consistent fashion without his doing something right. Track records therefore become preeminent. They call on the rule of the likelihood of such a successful run and tell themselves that if someone performed better than the rest in the past then there is a great chance of his performing better than the crowd in the future—and a very great one at that. But, as usual, beware the middlebrow: A small knowledge of probability can lead to worse results than no knowledge at all.
There are other aspects to the monkeys problem; in real life the other monkeys are not countable, let alone visible. They are hidden away, as one sees only the winners—it is natural for those who failed to vanish completely. Accordingly, one sees the survivors, and only the survivors, which imparts such a mistaken perception of the odds. We do not respond to probability, but to society’s assessment of it. As we saw with Nero Tulip, even people with training in probability respond unintelligently to social pressure.
Janet feels that her husband is a failure, by comparison, but she is miscomputing the probabilities in a gross manner—she is using the wrong distribution to derive a rank. As compared to the general U.S. population, Marc has done very well, better than 99.5% of his compatriots. As compared to his high school friends, he did extremely well, a fact that he could have verified had he had time to attend the periodic reunions, and he would come at the top. As compared to the other people at Harvard, he did better than 90% of them (financially, of course). As compared to his law school comrades at Yale, he did better than 60% of them. But as compared to his co-op neighbors, he is at the bottom! Why? Because he chose to live among the people who have been successful, in an area that excludes failure. In other words, those who have failed do not show up in the sample, thus making him look as if he were not doing well at all. By living on Park Avenue, one does not have exposure to the losers, one only sees the winners. As we are cut to live in very small communities, it is difficult to assess our situation outside of the narrowly defined geographic confines of our habitat. In the case of Marc and Janet, this leads to considerable emotional distress; here we have a woman who married an extremely successful man but all she can see is comparative failure, for she cannot emotionally compare him to a sample that would do him justice.
In a nutshell, the survivorship bias implies that the highest performing realization will be the most visible. Why? Because the losers do not show up.
Optimism, it is said, is predictive of success. Predictive? It can also be predictive of failure. Optimistic people certainly take more risks as they are overconfident about the odds; those who win show up among the rich and famous, others fail and disappear from the analyses. Sadly.
The same mechanism is behind the formation of conspiracy theories. Like The Bible Code they can seem perfect in their logic and can cause otherwise intelligent people to fall for them. I can create a conspiracy theory by downloading hundreds of paintings from an artist or group of artists and finding a constant among all those paintings (among the hundreds of thousand of traits). I would then concoct a conspiratorial theory around a secret message shared by these paintings. This is seemingly what the author of the bestselling The Da Vinci Code did.
People frequently misinterpret my opinion. I never said that every rich man is an idiot and every unsuccessful person unlucky, only that in absence of much additional information it is preferable to reserve one’s judgment. It is safer.
Kahneman and Tversky showed that these biases do not disappear when there are incentives, which means that they are not necessarily cost saving.
Consider that your brain reacts differently to the same situation depending on which chapter you open to. The absence of a central processing system makes us engage in decisions that can be in conflict with each other. You may prefer apples to oranges, oranges to pears, but pears to apples—it depends on how the choices are presented to you. The fact that your mind cannot retain and use everything you know at once is the cause of such biases. One central aspect of a heuristic is that it is blind to reasoning.
When you take a gamble, do you say: “My net worth will end up at $99,000 or $101,500 after the gamble” or do you say “I lose $1,000 or make $1,500?” Your attitude toward the risks and rewards of the gamble will vary according to whether you look at your net worth or changes in it. But in fact in real life you will be put in situations where you will only look at your changes. The fact that the losses hurt more than the gains, and differently, makes your accumulated performance, that is, your total wealth, less relevant than the last change in it.
Say you get a windfall profit of $1 million. The next month you lose $300,000. You adjust to a given wealth (unless of course you are very poor) so the following loss would hurt you emotionally, something that would not have taken place if you received the net amount of $700,000 in one block, or, better, two sums of $350,000 each. In addition, it is easier for your brain to detect differences rather than absolutes, hence rich or poor will be (above the minimum level) in relation to something else
Psychologists call this effect of comparing to a given reference anchoring. If we take it to its logical limit we would realize that, because of this resetting, wealth itself does not really make one happy (above, of course, some subsistence level); but positive changes in wealth may, especially if they come as “steady” increases.
This anchoring to a number is the reason people do not react to their total accumulated wealth, but to differences of wealth from whatever number they are currently anchored to. This is the major conflict with economic theory, as according to economists, someone with $1 million in the bank would be more satisfied than if he had half a million. But we saw John reaching $1 million having had a total of $10 million; he was happier when he only had half a million (starting at nothing) than where we left him in Chapter 1. Also recall the dentist whose emotions depended on how frequently he checked his portfolio.
The availability heuristic, which we saw in Chapter 3 with the earthquake in California deemed more likely than catastrophe in the entire country, or death from terrorism being more “likely” than death from all possible sources (including terrorism).
(3) The simulation heuristic: the ease of mentally undoing an event—playing the alternative scenario. It corresponds to counterfactual thinking: Imagine what might have happened had you not missed your train (or how rich you’d be today had you liquidated your portfolio at the height of the NASDAQ bubble).
the affect heuristic: What emotions are elicited by events determine their probability in your mind.
Researchers divide the activities of our mind into the following two polarized parts, called System 1 and System 2. System 1 is effortless, automatic, associative, rapid, parallel process, opaque (i.e., we are not aware of using it), emotional, concrete, specific, social, and personalized. System 2 is effortful, controlled, deductive, slow, serial, self-aware, neutral, abstract, sets, asocial, and depersonalized. I have always believed that professional option traders and market makers by dint of practicing their probabilistic game build an innate probabilistic machine that is far more developed than the rest of the population—even that of probabilists. I found a confirmation of that as researchers in the heuristics and biases tradition believe that System 1 can be impacted by experience and integrate elements from System 2. For instance, when you learn to play chess, you use System 2. After a while things become intuitive and you are able to gauge the relative strength of an opponent by glancing at the board.
I found a confirmation of that as researchers in the heuristics and biases tradition believe that System 1 can be impacted by experience and integrate elements from System 2. For instance, when you learn to play chess, you use System 2. After a while things become intuitive and you are able to gauge
(1) We do not think when making choices but use heuristics; (2) We make serious probabilistic mistakes in today’s world—whatever the true reason.
I have not told too many of my colleagues that their decision making contains some lingering habits of cavemen—but when markets experience an abrupt move, I experience the same rush of adrenaline as if a leopard were seen prowling near my trading desk. Some of my colleagues who break telephone handles upon losing money might be even closer in their psychological makeup to our common origin.
People can make incoherent choices because the brain works in the form of small partial jobs. Those heuristics that we said were “quick and dirty” to the psychologists are “fast and frugal” to the evolutionary psychologists.
In fact, Gigerenzer agrees that we do not understand probability (too abstract), but we react rather well to frequencies (less abstract): According to him, some problems that normally would cause us to make a mistake disappear when phrased in terms of percentages.
Our brain functions by “modules.” An interesting aspect of modularity is that we may use different modules for different instances of the same problem, depending on the framework in which it is presented—as discussed in the notes to this section. One of the attributes of a module is its “encapsulation,” i.e., we cannot interfere with its functioning, as we are not aware of using it.
(though with extreme clarity), a given quiz is only
In addition, there is the risk ignorance factor. Scientists have subjected people to tests—what I mentioned in the prologue as risk taking out of underestimating the risks rather than courage. The subjects were asked to predict a range for security prices in the future, an upper bound and a lower bound, in such a way that they would be comfortable with 98% of the security ending inside such range. Of course violations to such bound were very large, up to 30%.
Such violations arise from a far more severe problem: People overvalue their knowledge and underestimate the probability of their being wrong.
What is the mechanism that should convince authors to avoid reading comments on their work, except for those they solicit from specified persons for whom they have intellectual respect? The mechanism is a probabilistic method called conditional information: Unless the source of the statement has extremely high qualifications, the statement will be more revealing of the author than the information intended by him.
This mechanism I also call Wittgenstein’s ruler: Unless you have confidence in the ruler’s reliability, if you use a ruler to measure a table you may also be using the table to measure the ruler.
The famous Harvard psychologist B. F. Skinner constructed a box for rats and pigeons, equipped with a switch that the pigeon can operate by pecking. In addition, an electrical mechanism delivers food into the box. Skinner designed the box in order to study more general properties of the behavior of a collection of nonhumans, but it was in 1948 that he had the brilliant idea of ignoring the lever and focusing on the food delivery. He programmed it to deliver food at random to the famished birds. He saw quite astonishing behavior on the part of the birds; they developed an extremely sophisticated rain-dance type of behavior in response to their ingrained statistical machinery. One bird swung its head rhythmically against a specific corner of the box, others spun their heads counterclockwise; literally all of the birds developed a specific ritual that progressively became hardwired into their mind as linked to their feeding.
This problem has a more worrying extension; we are not made to view things as independent from each other. When viewing two events A and B, it is hard not to assume that A causes B, B causes A, or both cause each other. Our bias is immediately to establish a causal link.
My lesson from Soros is to start every meeting at my boutique by convincing everyone that we are a bunch of idiots who know nothing and are mistake-prone, but happen to be endowed with the rare privilege of knowing it.
Success and Luck
The consolation for the lack of attacks was in the form of letters from people who felt vindicated by the book. The most rewarding letters were the ones from people who did not fare well in life, through no fault of their own, who used the book as an argument with their spouse to explain that they were less lucky (not less skilled) than their brother-in-law. The most touching letter came from a man in Virginia who within a period of a few months lost his job, his wife, his fortune, was put under investigation by the redoubtable Securities and Exchange Commission, and progressively felt good for acting stoically.
Let me make it clear here: Of course chance favors the prepared! Hard work, showing up on time, wearing a clean (preferably white) shirt, using deodorant, and some such conventional things contribute to success—they are certainly necessary but may be insufficient as they do not cause success. The same applies to the conventional values of persistence, doggedness and perseverance: necessary, very necessary. One needs to go out and buy a lottery ticket in order to win. Does it mean that the work involved in the trip to the store caused the winning? Of course skills count, but they do count less in highly random environments than they do in dentistry.
No, I am not saying that what your grandmother told you about the value of work ethics is wrong! Furthermore, as most successes are caused by very few “windows of opportunity,” failing to grab one can be deadly for one’s career. Take your luck!
That all millionaires were persistent, hardworking people does not make persistent hard workers become millionaires: Plenty of unsuccessful entrepreneurs were persistent, hardworking people.
It is a mistake to use, as journalists and some economists do, statistics without logic, but the reverse does not hold: It is not a mistake to use logic without statistics). If I write that I doubt that my neighbor’s success is devoid of some measure, small or large, of luck, owing to the randomness in his profession, I do not need to “test” it—the Russian roulette thought experiment suffices. All I need is to show that there exists an alternative explanation to the theory that he is a genius.
This book is about luck disguised and perceived as nonluck (that is, skills) and, more generally, randomness disguised and perceived as non-randomness (that is, determinism).
Mild success can be explainable by skills and labor. Wild success is attributable to variance.
Can we judge the success of people by their raw performance and their personal wealth? Sometimes—but not always. We will see how, at any point in time, a large section of businessmen with outstanding track records will be no better than randomly thrown darts. More curiously, and owing to a peculiar bias, cases will abound of the least-skilled businessmen being the richest. However, they will fail to make an allowance for the role of luck in their performance.
Consider two neighbors, John Doe A, a janitor who won the New Jersey lottery and moved to a wealthy neighborhood, compared to John Doe B, his next-door neighbor of more modest condition who has been drilling teeth eight hours a day over the past thirty-five years. Clearly one can say that, thanks to the dullness of his career, if John Doe B had to relive his life a few thousand times since graduation from dental school, the range of possible out-comes would be rather narrow (assuming he is properly insured). At the best, he would end up drilling the rich teeth of the New York Park Avenue residents, while the worst would show him drilling those of some semideserted town full of trailers in the Catskills. Furthermore, assuming he graduated from a very prestigious teeth-drilling school, the range of out-comes would be even more compressed. As to John Doe A, if he had to relive his life a million times, almost all of them would see him performing janitorial activities (and spending endless dollars on fruitless lottery tickets), and one in a million would see him winning the New Jersey lottery. The idea of taking into account both the observed and unobserved possible outcomes sounds like lunacy. For most people, probability is about what may happen in the future, not events in the observed past; an event that has already taken place has 100% probability, i.e., certainty. I have discussed the point with many people who platitudinously accuse me of confusing myth and reality. Myths, particularly well-aged ones, as we saw with Solon’s warning, can be far more potent (and provide us with more experience) than plain reality.
Without excessive intellectual curiosity it is almost impossible to complete a Ph.D. thesis these days; but without a desire to narrowly specialize, it is impossible to make a scientific career.
But there is another reason why John may never recover. The reason is that John was never skilled in the first place. He is one of those people who happened to be there when it all happened. He may have looked the part but there are plenty of people who look the part.
The Monte Carlo generator will toss a coin; heads and the manager will make $10,000 over the year, tails and he will lose $10,000. We run it for the first year. At the end of the year, we expect 5,000 managers to be up $10,000 each, and 5,000 to be down $10,000. Now we run the game a second year. Again, we can expect 2,500 managers to be up two years in a row; another year, 1,250; a fourth one, 625; a fifth, 313. We have now, simply in a fair game, 313 managers who made money for five years in a row. Out of pure luck.
Meanwhile if we throw one of these successful traders into the real world we would get very interesting and helpful comments on his remarkable style, his incisive mind, and the influences that helped him achieve such success. Some analysts may attribute his achievement to precise elements among his childhood experiences. His biographer will dwell on the wonderful role models provided by his parents; we would be supplied with black-and-white pictures in the middle of the book of a great mind in the making. And the following year, should he stop outperforming (recall that his odds of having a good year have stayed at 50%) they would start laying blame, finding fault with the relaxation in his work ethics, or his dissipated lifestyle. They will find something he did before when he was successful that he has subsequently stopped doing, and attribute his failure to that. The truth will be, however, that he simply ran out of luck.
Let’s push the argument further to make it more interesting. We create a cohort that is composed exclusively of incompetent managers. We will define an incompetent manager as someone who has a negative expected return, the equivalent of the odds being stacked against him. We instruct the Monte Carlo generator now to draw from an urn. The urn has 100 balls, 45 black and 55 red. By drawing with replacement, the ratio of red to black balls will remain the same. If we draw a black ball, the manager will earn $10,000. If we draw a red ball, he will lose $10,000. The manager is thus expected to earn $10,000 with 45% probability, and lose $10,000 with 55%. On average, the manager will lose $1,000 each round—but only on average. At the end of the first year, we still expect to have 4,500 managers turning a profit (45% of them), the second, 45% of that number, 2,025. The third, 911; the fourth, 410; the fifth, 184. Let us give the surviving managers names and dress them in business suits. True, they represent less than 2% of the original cohort. But they will get attention. Nobody will mention the other 98%.What can we conclude?
The second counterintuitive point is that the expectation of the maximum of track records, with which we are concerned, depends more on the size of the initial sample than on the individual odds per manager. In other words, the number of managers with great track records in a given market depends far more on the number of people who started in the investment business (in place of going to dental school), rather than on their ability to produce profits.
Another popular scientific analogy is the weather, where it has been shown that a simple butterfly fluttering its wings in India can cause a hurricane in New York. But the classics have their share to offer as well: Pascal (he of the wager in Chapter 7) said that if Cleopatra’s nose had been slightly shorter, the world’s fate would have changed.
It is an interesting attribute of fame that it has its own dynamics. An actor becomes known by some parts of the public because he is known by other parts of the public. The dynamics of such fame follow a rotating helix, which may have started at the audition, as the selection could have been caused by some silly detail that fitted the mood of the examiner on that day. Had the examiner not fallen in love the previous day with a person with a similar-sounding last name, then our selected actor from that particular sample history would be serving caffe latte in the intervening sample history.
This summarizes why there are routes to success that are nonrandom, but few, very few, people have the mental stamina to follow them. Those who go the extra mile are rewarded. In my profession one may own a security that benefits from lower market prices, but may not react at all until some critical point. Most people give up before the rewards.
I am also realizing the nonlinear effect behind success in anything: It is better to have a handful of enthusiastic advocates than hordes of people who appreciate your work—better to be loved by a dozen than liked by the hundreds.
This part, the conclusion of this book, presents the human aspect of dealing with uncertainty. I have personally failed in achieving a general insulation from randomness, but I have managed a few tricks.
Evolution and Human Nature
(Our hormonal system does not know whether our successes depend on randomness).
Scientists found out that serotonin, a neurotransmitter, seems to command a large share of our human behavior. It sets a positive feedback, the virtuous cycle, but, owing to an external kick from randomness, can start a reverse motion and cause a vicious cycle. It has been shown that monkeys injected with serotonin will rise in the pecking order, which in turn causes an increase of the serotonin level in their blood—until the virtuous cycle breaks and starts a vicious one (during the vicious cycle failure will cause one to slide in the pecking order, causing a behavior that will bring about further drops in the pecking order). Likewise, an increase in personal performance (regardless of whether it is caused deterministically or by the agency of Lady Fortuna) induces a rise of serotonin in the subject, itself causing an increase of what is commonly called “leadership” ability. One is “on a roll.” Some imperceptible changes in deportment, like an ability to express oneself with serenity and confidence, make the subject look credible—as if he truly deserved the shekels. Randomness will be ruled out as a possible factor in the performance, until it rears its head once again and delivers the kick that will induce the downward spiral.
In addition, there seems to be curious evidence of a link between leadership and a form of psychopathology (the sociopath) that encourages the non-blinking, self-confident, insensitive person to rally followers.
One cab driver in Chicago explained to me that he could tell if traders he picked up near the Chicago Board of Trade, a futures exchange, were doing well. “They get all puffed up,” he said. I found it interesting (and mysterious) that he could detect it so rapidly. I later got some plausible explanation from evolutionary psychology, which claims that such physical manifestations of one’s performance in life, just like an animal’s dominant condition, can be used for signaling: It makes the winners seem easily visible, which is efficient in mate selection.
Recall that someone with only casual knowledge about the problems of randomness would believe that an animal is at the maximum fitness for the conditions of its time. This is not what evolution means; on average, animals will be fit, but not every single one of them, and not at all times. Just as an animal could have survived because its sample path was lucky, the “best” operators in a given business can come from a subset of operators who survived because of overfitness to a sample path—a sample path that was free of the evolutionary rare event. One vicious attribute is that the longer these animals can go without encountering the rare event, the more vulnerable they will be to it. We said that should one extend time to infinity, then, by ergodicity, that event will happen with certainty—the species will be wiped out! For evolution means fitness to one and only one time series, not the average of all the possible environments. By some viciousness of the structure of randomness, a profitable person like John, someone who is a pure loser in the long run and correspondingly unfit for survival, presents a high degree of eligibility in the short run and has the propensity to multiply his genes. Recall the hormonal effect on posture and its signaling effect to other potential mates. His success (or pseudosuccess owing to its fragility) will show in his features as a beacon. An innocent potential mate will be fooled into thinking (unconditionally) that he has a superior genetic makeup, until the following rare event. Solon seems to have gotten the point; but try to explain the problem to a naive business Darwinist—or your rich neighbor across the street.
What is our natural habitat? By natural habitat, I mean the environment in which we reproduced the most, the one in which we spent the highest number of generations. The consensus among anthropologists is that we have been around as a separate species for 130,000 years, most of which were spent in the African savannah. But we do not have to go back that far in history to get the point. Imagine life in an early urban settlement, in Middle-Town, Fertile Crescent, only about 3,000 years ago—surely modern times from a genetic standpoint. Information is limited by the physical means of its transmission; one cannot travel fast, hence information will come from faraway places in concise batches. Traveling is a nuisance fraught with all manner of physical danger; you will settle within a narrow radius of where you were born unless famine or some invading uncivilized tribe dislodges you and your relatives from your happy settlement. The number of people you would get to know in a lifetime will be small. Should a crime be committed, it will be easy to gauge the evidence of guilt within the small number of possible suspects. If you are unjustly convicted of a crime, you will argue in simple terms, propounding simple evidence like “I was not there as I was praying in the temple of Baal and was seen at dusk by the high priest” and add that Obedshemesh, son of Sahar, was more likely to be guilty because he had more to gain from the crime. Your life would be simple, hence your space of probabilities would be narrow. The real problem is, as I have mentioned, that such a natural habitat does not include much information. An efficient computation of the odds was never necessary until very recently. This also explains why we had to wait until the emergence of the gambling literature to see the growth of the mathematics of probability. Popular belief holds that the religious backdrop of the first and second millennia blocked the growth of tools that hint at absence of determinism, and caused the delays in probability research. The idea is extremely dubious; we simply did not compute probabilities because we did not dare to? Surely the reason is rather because we did not need to.
Neurobiologists also have their side of the story. They believe (roughly) that we have three brains: The very old one, the reptilian brain that dictates heartbeat and that we share with all animals; the limbic brain center of emotions that we share with mammals; and the neocortex, or cognitive brain, that distinguishes primates and humans (note that even institutional investors seem to have a neocortex). While that theory of the Triune brain shows some over-simplification (particularly when handled by journalists), it seems to provide a framework for the analysis of brain functions.
Although it is very difficult to figure out which part of the brain does what exactly, neuroscientists have been doing some environment mapping in the brain by, say, taking a patient whose brain is damaged in one single spot (say, by a tumor or an injury deemed to be local) and deducing by elimination the function performed by such part of the anatomy. Other methods include brain imaging and electric simulations to specific areas.
There are reasons to believe that, for evolutionary purposes, we may be programmed to build a loyalty to ideas in which we have invested time.
Data and Statistics
Monte Carlo simulations are closer to a toy than anything I have seen in my adult life. One can generate thousands, perhaps millions, of random sample paths, and look at the prevalent characteristics of some of their features.
There is asymmetry. Those who die do so very early in the game, while those who live go on living very long. Whenever there is asymmetry in outcomes, the average survival has nothing to do with the median survival.
“Since not more than 50 percent of the individuals can be wealthier than average.” Of course, more than 50% of individuals can be wealthier than average. Consider that you have a very small number of very poor people and the rest clustering around the middle class. The mean will be lower than the median. Take a population of 10 people, 9 having a net worth of $30,000 and 1 having a net worth of $1,000. The average net worth is $27,100 and 9 out of 10 people will have above average wealth.
But there is a more severe aspect of naive empiricism. I can use data to disprove a proposition, never to prove one. I can use history to refute a conjecture, never to affirm it. For instance, the statement The market never goes down 20% in a given three-month period can be tested but is completely meaningless if verified. I can quantitatively reject the proposition by finding counterexamples, but it is not possible for me to accept it simply because, in the past, the market never went down 20% in any three-month period (you cannot easily make the logical leap from “has never gone down” to “never goes down”).
You can more safely use the data to reject than to confirm hypotheses. Why? Consider the following statements: Statement A: No swan is black, because I looked at four thousand swans and found none. Statement B: Not all swans are white. I cannot logically make statement A, no matter how many successive white swans I may have observed in my life and may observe in the future (except, of course, if I am given the privilege of observing with certainty all available swans). It is, however, possible to make Statement B merely by finding one single counterexample.
One cannot infer much from a single experiment in a random environment—an experiment needs a repeatability showing some causal component.
The information that a person derived some profits in the past, just by itself, is neither meaningful nor relevant. We need to know the size of the population from which he came. In other words, without knowing how many managers out there have tried and failed, we will not be able to assess the validity of the track record. If the initial population includes ten managers, then I would give the performer half my savings without a blink. If the initial population is composed of 10,000 managers, I would ignore the results. The latter situation is generally the case; these days so many people have been drawn to the financial markets.
The most intuitive way to describe the data mining problem to a nonstatistician is through what is called the birthday paradox, though it is not really a paradox, simply a perceptional oddity. If you meet someone randomly, there is a one in 365.25 chance of your sharing their birthday, and a considerably smaller one of having the exact birthday of the same year. So, sharing the same birthday would be a coincidental event that you would discuss at the dinner table. Now let us look at a situation where there are 23 people in a room. What is the chance of there being 2 people with the same birthday? About 50%. For we are not specifying which people need to share a birthday; any pair works.
The late astronomer Carl Sagan, a devoted promoter of scientific thinking and an obsessive enemy of nonscience, examined the cures from cancer that resulted from a visit to Lourdes in France, where people were healed by simple contact with the holy waters, and found out the interesting fact that, of the total cancer patients who visited the place, the cure rate was, if anything, lower than the statistical one for spontaneous remissions.
he made the mistake of overstating the importance of small samples (in this case just one single observation, the worst possible inferential mistake a person can make).
We said that mere judgment would probably suffice in a primitive society. It is easy for a society to live without mathematics—or traders to trade without quantitative methods—when the space of possible outcomes is one-dimensional. One-dimensional means that we are looking at one sole variable, not a collection of separate events. The price of one security is one-dimensional, whereas the collection of the prices of several securities is multi-dimensional and requires mathematical modeling—we cannot easily see the collection of possible outcomes of the portfolio with a naked eye, and cannot even represent it on a graph as our physical world has been limited to visual representation in three dimensions only. We will argue later why we run the risk of having bad models (admittedly, we have) or making the error of condoning ignorance—swinging
Unless something moves by more than its usual daily percentage change, the event is deemed to be noise. Percentage moves are the size of the headlines. In addition, the interpretation is not linear; a 2% move is not twice as significant an event as 1%, it is rather like four to ten times. A 7% move can be several billion times more relevant than a 1% move! The headline of the Dow moving by 1.3 points on my screen today has less than one billionth of the significance of the serious 7% drop of October 1997. People might ask me: Why do I want everybody to learn some statistics? The answer is that too many people read explanations. We cannot instinctively understand the nonlinear aspect of probability.
Market Behavior and Trading
On another television show I mentioned that “people think that there is a story when there is none” as I was discussing the random character of the stock market and the backfit logic one always sees in events after the fact.
I recall that every time I have been humiliated in a public discussion on markets by someone (of the George Will variety) who seemed to present more palatable and easier-to-understand arguments, I turned out (much later) to be right. I do not dispute that arguments should be simplified to their maximum potential; but people often confuse complex ideas that cannot be simplified into a media-friendly statement as symptomatic of a confused mind.
As a derivatives trader I noticed that people do not like to insure against something abstract; the risk that merits their attention is always something vivid.
Unlike many “hard” sciences, history cannot lend itself to experimentation. But somehow, overall, history is potent enough to deliver, on time, in the medium to long run, most of the possible scenarios, and to eventually bury the bad guy. Bad trades catch up with you, it is frequently said in the markets.
The same methodology can explain why the news (the high scale) is full of noise and why history (the low scale) is largely stripped of it (though fraught with interpretation problems). This explains why I prefer not to read the newspaper (outside of the obituary), why I never chitchat about markets, and, when in a trading room, I frequent the mathematicians and the secretaries, not the traders. It explains why it is better to read The New Yorker on Mondays than The Wall Street Journal every morning (from the standpoint of frequency, aside from the massive gap in intellectual class between the two publications).
True traders, I believe, dress sloppily, are often ugly, and exhibit the intellectual curiosity of someone who would be more interested in the information-revealing contents of the garbage can than the Cézanne painting on the wall.
”This is a symptom of systemic troubles;it shows that there was an entire community of traders who were conducting the exact same activity. Such statements, that other traders had also gotten into trouble, are self-incriminating. A trader’s mental construction should direct him to do precisely what other people do not do.
at any point in time, the richest traders are often the worst traders. This, I will call the cross-sectional problem: At a given time in the market, the most successful traders are likely to be those that are best fit to the latest cycle. This does not happen too often with dentists or pianists—because these professions are more immune to randomness.
an activity called “high-yield” trading, which consisted in acquiring “cheap” bonds that yielded, say, 10%, while the borrowing rate for his institution was 5.5%. It netted a 4.5% revenue, also called interest rate differential—which seemed small except that he could leverage himself and multiply such profit by the leverage factor.
A tendency to get married to positions. There is a saying that bad traders divorce their spouse sooner than abandon their positions. Loyalty to ideas is not a good thing for traders, scientists—or anyone.
The tendency to change their story. They become investors “for the long haul” when they are losing money, switching back and forth between traders and investors to fit recent reversals of fortune. The difference between a trader and an investor lies in the duration of the bet, and the corresponding size. There is absolutely nothing wrong with investing “for the long haul,” provided one does not mix it with short-term trading—it is just that many people become long-term investors after they lose money, postponing their decision to sell as part of their denial.
No precise game plan ahead of time as to what to do in the event of losses. They simply were not aware of such a possibility. Both bought more bonds after the market declined sharply, but not in response to a predetermined plan.
Accordingly, bullish or bearish are terms used by people who do not engage in practicing uncertainty, like the television commentators, or those who have no experience in handling risk. Alas, investors and businesses are not paid in probabilities; they are paid in dollars. Accordingly, it is not how likely an event is to happen that matters, it is how much is made when it happens that should be the consideration. How frequent the profit is irrelevant; it is the magnitude of the outcome that counts.
The best description of my lifelong business in the market is “skewed bets,” that is, I try to benefit from rare events, events that do not tend to repeat themselves frequently, but, accordingly, present a large payoff when they occur. I try to make money infrequently, as infrequently as possible, simply because I believe that rare events are not fairly valued, and that the rarer the event, the more undervalued it will be in price.
I am far more aggressive than Nero and go one step further; I have organized my career and business in such a way as to be able to benefit from them. In other words, I aim at profiting from the rare event, with my asymmetric bets.
The typical case is as follows. You invest in a hedge fund that enjoys stable returns and no volatility, until one day, you receive a letter starting with “An unforeseen and unexpected event, deemed a rare occurrence . . .” (emphasis mine). But rare events exist precisely because they are unexpected. They are generally caused by panics, themselves the results of liquidations (investors rushing to the door simultaneously by dumping anything they can put their hands on as fast as possible). If the fund manager or trader expected it, he and his like-minded peers would not have invested in it, and the rare event would not have taken place.
In the markets, there is a category of traders who have inverse rare events, for whom volatility is often a bearer of good news. These traders lose money frequently, but in small amounts, and make money rarely, but in large amounts. I call them crisis hunters. I am happy to be one of them.
The very same effect takes place in the market. We take past history as a single homogeneous sample and believe that we have considerably increased our knowledge of the future from the observation of the sample of the past. What if vicious children were changing the composition of the urn? In other words, what if things have changed?
Note that the economist Robert Lucas dealt a blow to econometrics by arguing that if people were rational then their rationality would cause them to figure out predictable patterns from the past and adapt, so that past information would be completely useless for predicting the future (the argument, phrased in a very mathematical form, earned him the Swedish Central Bank Prize in honor of Alfred Nobel). We are human and act according to our knowledge, which integrates past data. I can translate his point with the following analogy. If rational traders detect a pattern of stocks rising on Mondays, then, immediately such a pattern becomes detectable, it would be ironed out by people buying on Friday in anticipation of such an effect. There is no point searching for patterns that are available to everyone with a brokerage account; once detected, they would be self-canceling.
If the science of statistics can benefit me in anything, I will use it. If it poses a threat, then I will not. I want to take the best of what the past can give me without its dangers. Accordingly, I will use statistics and inductive methods to make aggressive bets, but I will not use them to manage my risks and exposure. Surprisingly, all the surviving traders I know seem to have done the same. They trade on ideas based on some observation (that includes past history) but, like the Popperian scientists, they make sure that the costs of being wrong are limited (and their probability is not derived from past data). Unlike Carlos and John, they know before getting involved in the trading strategy which events would prove their conjecture wrong and allow for it (recall that Carlos and John used past history both to make their bets and to measure their risk). They would then terminate their trade. This is called a stop loss, a predetermined exit point, a protection from the black swan. I find it rarely practiced.
The moral of the book is that the wealthiest are to be found among those less suspected to be wealthy. On the other hand, those who act and look wealthy subject their net worth to such a drain that they inflict considerable and irreversible damage to their brokerage account.
Remember that nobody accepts randomness in his own success, only his failure. His ego was pumped up as he was heading up a department of “great traders” who were then temporarily making a fortune in the markets and attributing the idea to the soundness of their business, their insights, or their intelligence. They subsequently blew up during the harsh New York winter of 1994 (it was the bond market crash that followed the surprise interest rate hike by Alan Greenspan). The interesting part is that several years later I can hardly find any of them still trading (ergodicity).
What happened? The trick is as follows. The con operator pulls 10,000 names out of a phone book. He mails a bullish letter to one half of the sample, and a bearish one to the other half. The following month he selects the names of the persons to whom he mailed the letter whose prediction turned out to be right, that is, 5,000 names. The next month he does the same with the remaining 2,500 names, until the list narrows down to 500 people. Of these there will be 200 victims. An investment in a few thousand dollars’ worth of postage stamps will turn into several million.
The Backtester A programmer helped me build a backtester. It is a software program connected to a database of historical prices, which allows me to check the hypothetical past performance of any trading rule of average complexity. I can just apply a mechanical trading rule, like buy NASDAQ stocks if they close more than 1.83% above their average of the previous week, and immediately get an idea of its past performance. The screen will flash my hypothetical track record associated with the trading rule. If I do not like the results, I can change the percentage to, say, 1.2%. I can also make the rule more complex. I will keep trying until I find something that works well.
He worked for a trading house and was obsessed with the anecdotal aspects of the markets. He once asked me doggedly what I thought the stock market would do that day. Clearly I gave him a social answer of the kind “I don’t know, perhaps lower”—quite possibly the opposite answer to what I would have given him had he asked me an hour earlier. The next day he showed great alarm upon seeing me. He went on and on discussing my credibility and wondering how I could be so wrong in my “predictions,” since the market went up subsequently. The man was able to derive conclusions about my ability to predict and my “credibility” with a single observation.
As I am writing these lines I see the following headlines on my Bloomberg: →Dow is up 1.03 on lower interest rates. →Dollar down 0.12 yen on higher Japanese surplus. and so on for an entire page. If I translate it well, the journalist claims to provide an explanation for something that amounts to perfect noise.
When academics blow up trading, one would expect them to integrate such information in their theories and make some heroic statement to the effect that they were wrong, but that now they have learned something about the real world. Nothing of the sort. Instead they complain about the behavior of their counterparts in the market who pounced on them like vultures, thus exacerbating their downfall.
Emotions and Rationality
Somehow words and reason became ineffectual in front of an oversized diamond, a monstrous house, and a sports car collection.
Schadenfreude, the joy humans can experience upon their rivals’ misfortunes.
Behavioral scientists believe that one of the main reasons why people become leaders is not from what skills they seem to possess, but rather from what extremely superficial impression they make on others through hardly perceptible physical signals—what we call today “charisma,” for example. The biology of the phenomenon is now well studied under the subject heading “social emotions.” Meanwhile some historian will “explain” the success in terms of, perhaps, tactical skills, the right education, or some other theoretical reason seen in hindsight.
Their face will seldom reveal much, as people consciously attempt to gain control of their facial expressions. But the way they walk, the way they hold the telephone, and the hesitation in their behavior will not fail to reveal their true disposition.
Having never been impressed by people with money (and I have met plenty of those throughout my life), I did not look at any of them as remotely a role model for me. Perhaps the opposite effect holds, as I am generally repelled by the wealthy, generally because of the attitude of epic heroism that usually accompanies rapid enrichment.
Aside from the misperception of one’s performance, there is a social treadmill effect: You get rich, move to rich neighborhoods, then become poor again. To that add the psychological treadmill effect; you get used to wealth and revert to a set point of satisfaction. This problem of some people never really getting to feel satisfied by wealth (beyond a given point) has been the subject of technical discussions on happiness.
Someone would rationally say to Janet: “Go read this book Fooled by Randomness by one mathematical trader on the deformations of chance in life; it would give you a statistical sense of perspective and would accordingly make you feel better.” As an author, I would like to offer a panacea for $14.95, but I would rather say that in my best hopes it may provide an hour or so of solace. Janet may need something more drastic for relief. I have repeated that becoming more rational, or not feeling emotions of social slights, is not part of the human race, at least not with our current biology. There is no solace to be found from reasoning—as a trader I have learned something about these unfruitful efforts to reason against the grain.
I will present the theses of two watershed works presented in readable books, Damasio’s Descartes’ Error and LeDoux’s Emotional Brain. Descartes’ Error presents a very simple thesis: You perform a surgical ablation on a piece of someone’s brain (say, to remove a tumor and tissue around it) with the sole resulting effect of an inability to register emotions, nothing else (the IQ and every other faculty remain the same). What you have done is a controlled experiment to separate someone’s intelligence from his emotions. Now you have a purely rational human being unencumbered with feelings and emotions. Let’s watch: Damasio reported that the purely unemotional man was incapable of making the simplest decision. He could not get out of bed in the morning, and frittered away his days fruitlessly weighing decisions. Shock! This flies in the face of everything one would have expected: One cannot make a decision without emotion.
Joseph LeDoux’s theory about the role of emotions in behavior is even more potent: Emotions affect one’s thinking. He figured out that much of the connections from the emotional systems to the cognitive systems are stronger than connections from the cognitive systems to the emotional systems. The implication is that we feel emotions (limbic brain) then find an explanation (neocortex). As we saw with Claparède’s discovery, much of the opinions and assessments that we have concerning risks may be the simple result of emotions.
How could professionals seemingly aware of the (simple) mathematics be put in such a position? As previously discussed, our actions are not quite guided by the parts of our brain that dictate rationality. We think with our emotions and there is no way around it.
The epiphany I had in my career in randomness came when I understood that I was not intelligent enough, nor strong enough, to even try to fight my emotions. Besides, I believe that I need my emotions to formulate my ideas and get the energy to execute them. I am just intelligent enough to understand that I have a predisposition to be fooled by randomness—and to accept the fact that I am rather emotional.
The difference between me and those I ridicule is that I try to be aware of it. No matter how long I study and try to understand probability, my emotions will respond to a different set of calculations, those that my unintelligent genes want me to handle. If my brain can tell the difference between noise and signal, my heart cannot.
Such unintelligent behavior does not just cover probability and randomness. I do not think I am reasonable enough to avoid getting angry when a discourteous driver blows his horn at me for being one nanosecond late after a traffic light turns green. I am fully aware that such anger is self-destructive and offers no benefit, and that if I were to develop anger for every idiot around me doing something of the sort, I would be long dead. These small daily emotions are not rational. But we need them to function properly.
The good news is that there are tricks. One such trick is to avoid eye contact (through the rearview mirror) with other persons in such traffic encounters. Why? Because when you gaze into someone’s eyes, a different part of your brain, the more emotional one, is activated and engaged as the result of the interaction.
The Greek philosopher Pyrrho, who advocated a life of equanimity and indifference, was criticized for failing to keep his composure during a critical circumstance (he was chased by an ox). His answer was that he found it sometimes difficult to rid himself of his humanity. If Pyrrho cannot stop being human, I do not see why the rest of us should resemble the rational man who acts perfectly under uncertainty as propounded by economic theory. I discovered that much of the rationally obtained results using my computations of the various probabilities do not register deeply enough to impact my own conduct.
A rational person would act accordingly in the selection of strategies, and set his emotions in accordance with his results. Yet I have experienced leaps of joy over results that I knew were mere noise, and bouts of unhappiness over results that did not carry the slightest degree of statistical significance. I cannot help it, but I am emotional and derive most of my energy from my emotions. So the solution does not reside in taming my heart.
Professional Ethics and Personal Conduct
Most journalists do not take things too seriously: After all, this business of journalism is about pure entertainment, not a search for truth, particularly when it comes to radio and television.
Almost all the book editors who read the draft recommended changes at the sentence level (to make my style “better”) and in the structure of the text (in the organization of chapters); I ignored almost all of them and found out that none of the readers thought them necessary—as a matter of fact, I find that injecting the personality of the author (imperfections included) enlivens the text. Does the book industry suffer from the classical “expert problem” with the buildup of rules of thumb that do not have empirical validity? More than half a million readers later I am discovering that books are not written for book editors.
This is one of the many reasons that journalism may be the greatest plague we face today—as the world becomes more and more complicated and our minds are trained for more and more simplification.
You select randomly five phrases below, then connect them by adding the minimum required to construct a grammatically sound speech. We look after our customer’s interests / the road ahead / our assets are our people / creation of shareholder value / our vision / our expertise lies in / we provide interactive solutions / we position ourselves in this market / how to serve our customers better / short-term pain for long-term gain / we will be rewarded in the long run / we play from our strength and improve our weaknesses / courage and determination will prevail / we are committed to innovation and technology / a happy employee is a productive employee / commitment to excellence / strategic plan / our work ethics. If this bears too close a resemblance to the speech you just heard from the boss of your company, then I suggest looking for a new job.
Let us remember that economists are evaluated on how intelligent they sound, not on a scientific measure of their knowledge of reality.
Sadly, I learned quite a bit from Niederhoffer, mostly by contrast, and particularly from the last example: not to approach anything as a game to win, except, of course, if it is a game. Even then, I do not like the asphyxiating structure of competitive games and the diminishing aspect of deriving pride from a numerical performance. I also learned to stay away from people of a competitive nature, as they have a tendency to commoditize and reduce the world to categories, like how many papers they publish in a given year, or how they rank in the league tables. There is something nonphilosophical about investing one’s pride and ego into a “my house/library/car is bigger than that of others in my category”—it is downright foolish to claim to be first in one’s category all the while sitting on a time bomb.
I have no large desire to sacrifice much of my personal habits, intellectual pleasures, and personal standards in order to become a billionaire like Warren Buffett, and I certainly do not see the point of becoming one if I were to adopt Spartan (even miserly) habits and live in my starter house. Something about the praise lavished upon him for living in austerity while being so rich escapes me; if austerity is the end, he should become a monk or a social worker—we should remember that becoming rich is a purely selfish act, not a social one. The virtue of capitalism is that society can take advantage of people’s greed rather than their benevolence, but there is no need to, in addition, extol such greed as a moral (or intellectual) accomplishment
the fund manager can expect to be heckled by me during the presentation, particularly if he does not exhibit the minimum of humility and self-doubt that I would expect from someone practicing randomness.
I conclude with the following saddening remark about scientists in the soft sciences. People confuse science and scientists. Science is great, but individual scientists are dangerous. They are human; they are marred by the biases humans have.
Dress at your best on your execution day (shave carefully); try to leave a good impression on the death squad by standing erect and proud. Try not to play victim when diagnosed with cancer (hide it from others and only share the information with the doctor—it will avert the platitudes and nobody will treat you like a victim worthy of their pity; in addition, the dignified attitude will make both defeat and victory feel equally heroic). Be extremely courteous to your assistant when you lose money (instead of taking it out on him as many of the traders whom I scorn routinely do). Try not to blame others for your fate, even if they deserve blame. Never exhibit any self-pity, even if your significant other bolts with the handsome ski instructor or the younger aspiring model. Do not complain. If you suffer from a benign version of the “attitude problem,” like one of my childhood friends, do not start playing nice guy if your business dries up (he sent a heroic e-mail to his colleagues informing them “less business, but same attitude”). The only article Lady Fortuna has no control over is your behavior. Good luck.
Author
Mauro Sicard
CEO & Creative Director at BRIX Agency. My main interests are tech, science and philosophy.