Our lives are governed by both fast and slow – by quick, intuitive decisions based on our gut feelings; and by deliberate, ponderous ones based on careful reflection. How do these varying speeds affect our choices? Consider the many situations when we must put our own self-interest against the public good, from giving to charity to paying out taxes. Are we naturally prone to selfishness, behaving altruistically only through slow acts of self-control? Or do we intuitively reveal our better angels, giving way to self-interest as we take time to think?
According to David Rand from Harvard University, it’s the latter. Through a series of experiments, he has found that, on average, people behave more selflessly if they make decisions quickly and intuitively. If they take time to weigh things up, cooperation gives way to selfishness. The title of his paper – “Spontaneous giving and calculated greed” – says it all.
Here’s the fourth piece from my new BBC column
In The Truth Machine, a science-fiction novel published in 1996, scientists invent a device that can detect lies with perfect accuracy. It abolishes crime, changes the world, and generally saves humanity from self-destruction. Which is nice.
Could such a machine ever be a reality? Not if our current technology is anything to go by. The polygraph has been around for almost a century, with wired-up offenders and twitching needles becoming a staple of criminal investigations. But there is no solid evidence that the signs it looks for – faster heart rates, shallower breaths and moist skin – can accurately indicate whether someone is telling a lie. Underpinned by fluffy theory and backed by a weak and stagnant evidence base, this lie-detection device is unlikely to get any better.
Inside the brain
Abandoning the polygraph, some scientists have turned to brain scanners. Two technologies have dominated the field. The first uses electronic sensors on a person’s scalp to measure an electrical signal, or “brainwave”, called the P300, which appears when we recognise something. By looking for this signal, you could potentially tell if someone is hiding knowledge about something they are already familiar with, like a murder weapon. This is certainly useful, but it is a long way from an all-purpose lie-detection method, and two of the key figures in the field have been arguing about how effective this is for many years.
The second technique is functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), affectionately known as blobology for the colourful pictures it produces. It shows the location of firing neurons in an indirect manner, by tracking the blood flow that supplies them with nutrients and oxygen. Several fMRI studies have shown that some parts of the brain are consistently more active when people tell untruths rather than truths, particularly areas at the very front that help us to suppress unwanted actions. Successful lying, it seems, is mainly about repressing the urge to be honest.
Yesterday, I watched as hundreds of Londoners took to the streets in a heroic attempt to clean up the mess caused by rioters and looters the night before. Looking at pictures of large crowds getting off trains with cleaning equipment in hand and marching down streets with brooms held aloft, I’ve rarely felt so proud of my city.
The clean-up operation was a great move – a positive note in an otherwise depressing week and a chance for a beleagured capital to come together and reclaim its sense of community. But the act of cleaning away the preceding day’s damage was also important. To explain why, I’m reposting this piece from a few years back about a Dutch study which showed that signs of disorder only breed more disorder. To clarify, this is in no way an attempt to explain the psychology of the riots themselves; it simply suggests another reason why the clean-up operation was a smart move.
Imagine walking through a neighbourhood and seeing graffiti, litter, and shopping trolleys strewn about the place. Are these problems to be solved, or petty annoyances that can be ignored in the light of more serious offences? A new study suggests that the former is right – even the most trivial of transgressions can spread and spiral because their very presence stimulates more of the same behaviour. Through a series of stunning real-world experiments, Kees Keizer and colleagues from the University of Groningen have shown that disorder breeds more disorder. The mere presence of graffiti, for example, can double the number of people who litter and steal.
Their study provides strong support for the controversial Broken Windows Theory, which suggests that signs of petty crimes, like broken windows, serve as a trigger for yet more criminal behaviour. It follows that fixing small problems can prevent the build-up of bigger ones and the gradual decay of a neighbourhood. The idea was first proposed in a magazine article published in 1982, but soon became the basis of many a social policy.
It inspired Rudy Guiliani’s Quality of Life Campaign in New York, which focused attention on seemingly trivial fixes such as removing graffiti, clearing signs of vandalism and sweeping the streets. The campaign seemed to work, which motivated other cities to try the same tactics. But despite its popularity, the Broken Windows Theory still divides opinion, for it lacks the backing of hard evidence, it’s plagued by woolly definitions of “disorder” and critics have questioned its role in New York’s drop in crime. These are fairly hefty shortcomings for a concept that is so central to anti-crime measures and Keiser wanted to address them once and for all.
To do so, he took to the streets of Groningen and watched unknowing passers-by in real-life situations as they reacted to signs of disorder. The recurring question was this: would people exposed to inappropriate behaviour behave in a similar way themselves?
He began in an alleyway in a local shopping district, where bicycles are commonly parked and where a conspicuous red sign warned against graffiti. He attached a flyer from a fictional sportswear shop to the handlebars of parked bicycles and watched what people did as they returned to their rides. Under normal circumstances (picture on the left), most people took the flyer with them and just 33% littered by throwing it on the ground. But that all changed when Keiser covered the wall with graffiti (picture on the right). With this innocuous difference, the proportion of litterers doubled and 69% discarded their flyers on the street.
Keiser explains this behaviour in terms of “social norms” – the rules that separate appropriate behaviours from inappropriate ones. Problems arise when our view of what is common (in this case, graffiti) fails to mesh with our understanding of what society expects (as epitomised by the “No Graffiti” sign). Graffiti is frowned upon, but the covered walls send a message that it is common and therefore, more acceptable. Keizer calls this the Cialdini effect.
To see how far its influence would extend, he set up a temporary fence in front of a car park. He attached two signs to the fence, one banning people from locking their bicycles to it, and another saying that entry was forbidden and asking people to use a detour some distance away. When he placed four bicycles a metre away, just 27% of people disobeyed the detour sign and squeezed through the gap in the fence. But when the bikes were locked to the fence, in blatant disregard of the first sign, 82% of people ignored the detour sign too. With one rule broken, the other followed suit.
A third related study took place in a supermarket car park, where prominent stickers asked shoppers to return their carts to the main building. Keizer plastered various cars with the same flyer from the first study. If the garage was clear of carts, just 30% of shoppers littered with the flyer, but if four unreturned shopping carts were left lying about, 58% did so. Again, when people saw that one rule was broken, they felt less strongly about following another.
Together, these three experiments show that signs of disregarded rules can spread to affect commonly held behaviours (“don’t litter”) as well as specific requests from third parties (“don’t enter” or “return trolleys”).
Signs of disorder don’t even need to be seen to have such influences – they can be heard too. In the Netherlands, most people know that setting off fireworks in the weeks before New Year’s Eve is illegal and carries a small fine. Keiser found that he could trigger people to litter more frequently by giving them audible evidence that this law had been flouted. Again, he attached a flyer to bicycles parked near a train station. Under normal circumstances, 52% of cyclists littered but if they heard the sound of fireworks let off by Keiser at a nearby location, that figure grew to 80%.
For his final and most dramatic demonstration, Keiser showed that the mere presence of graffiti can even turn people into thieves. He wedged an envelope into the slot of a mailbox, with a 5 Euro note showing in the transparent window. If the mailbox and the ground around it were clean, just 13% of passers-by stole the envelope. If the mailbox was covered in graffiti, or if the ground around it was covered in litter, the proportion of thieves doubled to 27% and 25% respectively.
Keiser thinks that it’s unlikely that people inferred a reduced police presence by the presence of litter or graffiti – certainly, litter is generally tolerated by the police in Groningen. Instead, he thinks that one transgression was actually fostering another. This isn’t a simple case of imitation – littering doesn’t just beget littering. Keiser’s idea is that seeing the breakdown of one social norm makes it easier to ignore others, by weakening our general resolve to act appropriately and strengthening our temptations to act in our own self-interest.
All in all, the suite of experiments, all in a realistic setting, provide powerful evidence that the Broken Windows Theory is valid and all of Keiser’s results were statistically significant. Small, petty signs of disorder can indeed turn people away from the straight and narrow. His message to police and policy-makers is stark – it is worth spending time on small and seemingly trivial interventions, to prevent disorder from spreading and escalating.
Reference: Keizer, K., Lindenberg, S., & Steg, L. (2008). The Spreading of Disorder Science, 322 (5908), 1681-1685 DOI: 10.1126/science.1161405
Last year, the UK press was abuzz with the so-called “expenses scandal”. In a time when the county was gripped by recession, we were told that Members of Parliament (MPs) were claiming for all sorts of ridiculous luxuries, all at the taxpayer’s expense. The revelations dominated the news, but the idea that people in positions of power often behave hypocritically isn’t new. It is said, after all, that power corrupts. Now, Joris Lammers from Tilburg University has found solid evidence for this.
Through five compelling experiments, Lammers has shown that powerful people are more likely to behave immorally but paradoxically less likely to tolerate immorality in other people. Even thinking about the feeling of power can trigger these double standards.
To begin with, Lammers asked 61 students to remember a time when they either felt powerful or powerless. Those that reminded themselves of power were more likely to frown on cheating; compared to the powerless group, they thought that overclaiming on travel expenses was less acceptable. However, they were also more likely to cheat. Lammers gave the recruits the chance to decide how many lottery tickets they would receive by privately rolling two dice. Those who were primed with power were more likely to lie about their scores to wangle extra tickets.
To explore this hypocrisy further, Lammers did three further experiments where he manipulated a volunteer’s feelings of power and then gave them a common moral dilemma. All of these involved acts that are technically illegal but that many people take part in, such as speeding or tax-dodging. Their job was to say either whether they would be okay with doing it themselves, or whether they would think it acceptable if someone else did it.
Adorning yourself in fake goods, be it a replica Gucci handbag or knock-off Armani sunglasses, makes a statement. It says that you want to feel, or be seen as, wealthier than you actually are. It signals an aspiration towards a richer lifestyle. Of course, such products can’t actually change a person’s status, but a new study suggests that they can change people’s behaviour, and for the worse.
Francesca Gino from the University of North Carolina has shown that counterfeit products actually make people behave more dishonestly. They cheat more in tests and they judge others as unethical with greater abandon. Even worse, they’re completely unaware of this impact. This effect is heavily ironic. People often buy fake goods to look good to other people. But Gino’s study shows that these products can affect our moral choices precisely because they make us look worse to ourselves. As she writes, “Feeling like a fraud makes people more likely to commit fraud.”
In her first experiment, Gino told volunteers that they were going to wear a pair of real of fake designer sunglasses while doing certain tasks. Their job was to test out the glasses. In reality, all the eyewear on offer was real and each cost a princely $300. But even though everyone had the same shades, the volunteers who thought they were wearing the fake ones were more likely to cheat in the tests.
Dan, a scientist working on dangerous viruses, is giving a visitor a tour of his lab. Before this happens, all test tubes containing disease-causing agents must be sealed in a chamber with a flick of a switch. Unfortunately, the switch broke recently and it hasn’t been repaired yet. Entering the room means certain death. Dan knows this but still, he bids the visitor to enter. The inevitable happens; they become sick and they die.
Would you consider Dan’s actions to be immoral? What if, in a parallel universe, the visitor miraculously survived? Does that change your views of Dan’s deeds? What if Dan didn’t know about the broken switch? For most of us, the answers are clear. If Dan knew about the broken switch, he was wrong to send in the visitor to potential death, regardless of whether they actually perished. But bizarrely, not everyone would see it that way.
Liane Young from MIT found that people with brain damage in an area called the ventromedial prefrontal cortex (VMPC) are unusually likely to brush off failed attempts at harming other people. They frowned upon actual murder with the usual severity but compared to normal people, they were twice as likely to think that attempted murder was morally permissible. Young thinks that the VMPC is vital for our ability to deduce respond emotionally to the intentions of other people, an important skill when it comes to making moral judgments.
The English language is full of metaphors linking moral purity to both physical cleanliness and brightness. We speak of “clean consciences”, “pure thoughts” and “dirty thieves”. We’re suspicious of “shady behaviour” and we use light and darkness to symbolise good and evil. But there is more to these metaphors than we might imagine. The mere scent of a clean-smelling room can take people down a virtuous road, compelling them to choose generosity over greed and charity over apathy. Meanwhile, the darkness of a dimmed room or a pair of sunglasses can compel people towards selfishness and cheating.
These new results are the latest from psychologist Chen-Bo Zhong. Back in 2006, he showed that people who brought back memories of past wrong-doings were more likely to think of words related to cleaning, or to physically crave cleaning products. He called this the “Lady Macbeth effect”. Subsequently, another group found that it works the other way too. People judge moral transgressions more leniently if they had previously washed their hands or if they had been primed with words related to cleanliness, like ‘pure’ or ‘immaculate’.
Now, Zhong, together with Katie Liljenquist and Adam Galinsky, have expanded on these studies by showing that clean smells can make people behave more virtuously. They ushered 28 volunteers into a room that was either unscented or that had been lightly sprayed with a citrus air freshener. In either case, they had to play a trust game, where a “sender” has a pot of money and chooses how much they want to invest with a “receiver”. The investment is tripled and the receiver decides how much to give back.
The volunteers were all told that they had been randomly chosen as receivers. Their anonymous partner had invested their entire $4 pot with them, which had been tripled to $12. Their job was to decide how much to give back. On average, they returned a measly $2.81in the unscented rooms but a more equitable $5.33 in the scented ones. The single spray of citrus nearly doubled their tendency to reciprocate.
In a second experiment, the trio again ushered 99 students into either a scented or unscented room. They were given a pack of miscellaneous tasks, including a flyer requesting volunteers for a charity called Habitat for Humanity. Those in the citrus-scented rooms were more likely to be interested in volunteering, and almost four times more willing to donate money to the cause.
In a world where the temptation to lie, deceive and cheat is both strong and profitable, what compels some people to choose the straight and narrow path? According to a new brain-scanning study, honest moral decisions depend more on the absence of temptation in the first place than on people wilfully resisting these lures.
Joshua Greene and Joseph Paxton and Harvard University came to this conclusion by using a technique called functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) to study the brain activity of people who were given a chance to lie. The volunteers were trying to predict the outcomes of coin-flips for money and they could walk away with more cash by lying about their accuracy.
The task allowed Greene and Paxton to test two competing (and wonderfully named) explanations for honest behaviour. The first -the “Will” hypothesis – suggests that we behave morally by exerting control over the desire to cheat. The second – the “Grace” hypothesis – says that honesty is more a passive process than an active one, fuelled by an absence of temptation rather than the presence of willpower. It follows on from a growing body of psychological studies, which suggest that much of our behaviour is governed by unconscious, automatic processes.
Many studies (and several awful popular science articles) have tried to place brain-scanning technology in the role of fancy lie detectors but in almost all of these cases, people are told to lie rather than doing so spontaneously. Greene and Paxton were much more interested in what happens in a person’s brain when they make the choice to lie.
They recruited 35 people and asked them to predict the result of computerised coin-flips while sitting in an fMRI scanner. They were paid in proportion to their accuracy. In some ‘No-Opportunity trials’, they had to make their predictions beforehand, giving them no room for cheating. In other ‘Opportunity trials’, they simply had say whether they had guessed correctly after the fact, opening the door to dishonesty.
To cover up the somewhat transparent nature of the experiment, Greene and Paxton fibbed themselves. They told the recruits that they were taking part in a study of psychic ability, where the idea was that people were more clairvoyant if their predictions were private and motivated by money. Under this ruse, the very nature of the “study” meant that people had the opportunity to lie, but were expected not to.
What happens when you remember a good deed, or think of yourself as a stand-up citizen? You might think that your shining self-image would reinforce the value of selflessness and make you more likely to behave morally in the future. But a new study disagrees.
Through three psychological experiments, Sonya Sachdeva from Northwestern University found that people who are primed to think well of themselves behave less altruistically than those whose moral identity is threatened. They donate less to charity and they become less likely to make decisions for the good of the environment.
Sachdeva suggests that the choice to behave morally is a balancing act between the desire to do good and the costs of doing so – be they time, effort or (in the case of giving to charities) actual financial costs. The point at which these balance is set by our own sense of self-worth. Tip the scales by threatening our saintly personas and we become more likely to behave selflessly to cleanse our tarnished perception. Do the opposite, and our bolstered moral identity slackens our commitment, giving us a license to act immorally. Having established our persona as a do-gooder, we feel less impetus to bear the costs of future moral actions.
It’s a fascinating idea. It implies both that we have a sort of moral thermostat, and that it’s possible for us to feel “too moral”. Rather than a black-and-white world of heroes and villains, Sachdeva paints a picture of a world full of “saintly sinners and sinning saints”.
Both objects and behaviour can be described as disgusting. The term could equally apply to someone who cheats other people out of money as it could to the sight of rancid food or the taste of sour milk. That’s not just a linguistic quirk. Some scientists believe that the revulsion we feel towards immoral behaviour isn’t based on our vaunted mental abilities, but on ancient impulses that evolved to put us off toxic or infectious foods.
It seems that your facial muscles agree. Hanah Chapman from the University of Toronto has found that both physical and moral disgust cause the levator labii muscles, which run from your eyes to your mouth, to contract. The result: you wrinkle your nose and you purse your lips. Nasty tastes, gross photos and foul play all cause the same physical reaction and the same subjective emotions. When people say that moral transgressions “leave a bad taste in your mouth”, it’s more than just a pretty metaphor.
Chapman began by studying disgust in its more primitive forms – reactions to foul tastes. She recruited 27 volunteers and recorded the electrical activity in their levator labii muscles as they drank small vials of various liquids. If the concoctions were unpleasantly salty, sour or bitter, this group of muscles contracted more strongly than if the liquids were sweet or flavourless. These reactions were a good measure of their subjective opinions – the more distasteful they found the drinks, the more strongly their muscles contracted.