Positive thinking in the face of adversity can pay dividends, but so, too, can a dash of realism (Schneider, 2001). Realistic anxiety over possible future failures can fuel energetic efforts to avoid the dreaded fate (Goodhart, 1986; Norem, 2001; Showers, 1992). Concerned about failing an upcoming test, students may study thoroughly and outperform their equally able but more confident peers. Asian-American students have expressed somewhat greater pessimism than their European-American counterparts, which may help explain their often impressive academic achievements (Chang, 2001). Success requires enough optimism to provide hope and enough pessimism to prevent complacency. We want our airline pilots to be mindful of worst-possible outcomes.
Excessive optimism can blind us to real risks (Tenney et al., 2015). More than 1000 studies have shown how our natural positive thinking bias can promote “an unrealistic optimism about future life events” (Shepperd et al., 2015; Weinstein, 1980). When 56 percent of twelfth graders believed they would earn a graduate degree—though only 9 percent were likely to do so—that was unrealistic optimism (Reynolds et al., 2006). When most students perceived themselves as more likely than their classmates to get a high-paying job and own a nice home, and less likely to have a heart attack or get cancer, that, too, was unrealistic optimism (Waters et al., 2011). If overconfident of our ability to control an impulse such as the urge to smoke, we are more likely to expose ourselves to temptations—and to fail (Nordgren et al., 2009). Blind optimism can be self-defeating, as we can see in those who optimistically deny the addictive toxicity of smoking or venture into ill-fated relationships.
Our natural positive thinking bias does seem to vanish, however, when we are bracing ourselves for feedback, such as test results (Carroll et al., 2006). In one analysis of 71 studies, optimism morphed toward pessimism shortly before the moment of truth (Sweeny & Krizan, 2013). Positive illusions also vanish after a traumatic personal experience—as they did for victims of a catastrophic California earthquake, who had to give up their illusions of being less vulnerable than others to earthquakes (Helweg-Larsen, 1999).
Ironically, people often are most overconfident when most incompetent. That, said Justin Kruger and David Dunning (1999), is because it often takes competence to recognize competence. They found that most students scoring at the low end of grammar and logic tests believed they had scored in the top half. If you do not know what is logical, you may be unaware of your illogic. This “ignorance of one’s own incompetence” phenomenon—now called the Dunning-Kruger effect—can produce overconfidence among political leaders. It also has a parallel among those of us with hearing loss, as I [DM] can confirm. Because we are unaware of what we don’t hear, we may overestimate our hearing. If I fail to hear my friend calling my name, the friend notices my inattention. But for me it’s a nonevent. I hear what I hear—which, to me, seems pretty normal.
The difficulty in recognizing one’s own incompetence helps explain why so many low-scoring students are dumbfounded after blowing a big test. If you don’t know all the Scrabble word possibilities you’ve overlooked, you may feel pretty smart—until they are pointed out. Our ignorance of what we don’t know sustains our self-confidence, leading us to make the same mistakes (Williams et al., 2013).
To judge one’s competence and predict one’s future performance, it pays to invite others’ assessments (Dunning, 2006; Grossmann & Kross, 2014). Based on studies in which both individuals and their acquaintances predict their future, we can hazard some advice: Ask your peers for their candid prediction. If you’re in love and want to predict whether it will last, don’t listen to your heart—ask your friends.
Imagine dashing to class, hoping not to miss the first few minutes. But you arrive five minutes late, huffing and puffing. As you sink into your seat, what sorts of thoughts go through your mind? Do you go through a negative door, thinking “I’m such a loser”? Or do you go through a positive door, telling yourself “I really tried to get here on time”?
Personality psychologists have found that most people choose the second door, which leads to positive self-thoughts. We have a good reputation with ourselves. We show a self-serving bias—a readiness to perceive ourselves favorably (Myers, 2010). Consider:
People accept more responsibility for good deeds than for bad, and for successes than for failures. Athletes often privately credit their victories to their own prowess, and their losses to bad breaks, lousy officiating, or the other team’s exceptional performance. Most students who receive poor test grades criticize the test or the teacher, not themselves. Drivers filling out insurance forms have explained their accidents in such words as “A pedestrian hit me and went under my car.” The question “What have I done to deserve this?” is one we usually ask of our troubles, not our successes. Although a self-serving bias can lead us to avoid uncomfortable truths, it can also motivate us to approach difficult tasks with confidence instead of despair (Tomaka et al., 1992; von Hippel & Trivers, 2011).
“ I never blame myself when I’m not hitting. I just blame the bat and if it keeps up, I change bats.”
Baseball great Yogi Berra
Most people see themselves as better than average. Compared with most other people, how moral are you? How easy to get along with? Where would you rank yourself, from the 1st to the 99th percentile? Most people put themselves well above the 50th percentile. This better-than-average effect appears for nearly any subjectively assessed and socially desirable behavior. Some examples:
Self-serving bias reflects both an overestimation of the self and a desire to maintain a positive self-view (Brown, 2012; Epley & Dunning, 2000). This motivation to see ourselves positively is weaker in Asia, where people tend to value modesty (Church et al., 2014; Falk, C. F. et al., 2009). Yet self-serving biases have been observed worldwide: In every one of 53 countries surveyed, people expressed self-esteem above the midpoint of the most widely used scale (Schmitt & Allik, 2005). The world, it seems, is Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon writ large—a place where “all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.”
“ If you are like most people, then like most people, you don’t know you’re like most people. Science has given us a lot of facts about the average person, and one of the most reliable of these facts is the average person doesn’t see herself as average.”
Daniel Gilbert, Stumbling on Happiness, 2006
Finding their self-esteem threatened, people with large egos may react violently. Researchers Brad Bushman and Roy Baumeister (1998; Bushman et al., 2009) had undergraduate volunteers write a brief essay, in response to which another supposed student gave them either praise (“Great essay!”) or stinging criticism (“One of the worst essays I have read!”). The essay writers were then allowed to lash out at their evaluators by blasting them with unpleasant noise. Can you anticipate the result?
After criticism, those with inflated self-esteem were “exceptionally aggressive.” They delivered a three times greater noise blast than did those with normal self-esteem. Over 80 follow-up studies have replicated the dangerous effect of narcissism (excessive self-love and self-focus) on aggression (Rasmussen, 2016). Researchers have concluded that “conceited, self-important individuals turn nasty toward those who puncture their bubbles of self-love” (Baumeister, 2001).
After tracking self-importance across several decades, psychologist Jean Twenge (2014; Twenge & Foster, 2010) reported that what she called Generation Me—born in the 1980s and early 1990s—expressed more narcissism (by agreeing more often with statements such as, “If I ruled the world, it would be a better place,” or “I think I am a special person”). Why does a rise in narcissism matter? Narcissists tend to be materialistic, desire fame, have inflated expectations, hook up more often without commitment, and gamble and cheat more—all of which have been increasing as narcissism has increased. Narcissistic people (more often men) forgive others less, take a game-playing approach to their romantic relationships, and engage in sexually forceful behavior (Blinkhorn et al., 2015; Bushman et al., 2003; Grijalva et al., 2015). They crave adulation, are active on social media, and often become enraged when criticized (Geukes et al., 2016; Krizan & Johar, 2015; McCain & Campbell, 2017). Many had parents who told them they were superior to others (Brummelman et al., 2015). They typically make good first impressions, which wane over time as their arrogance and bragging gets old (Czarna et al., 2016; Leckelt et al., 2015). Reality television stars are especially narcissistic (Rubinstein, 2016; Young & Pinsky, 2006).
“ The enthusiastic claims of the self-esteem movement mostly range from fantasy to hogwash. The effects of self-esteem are small, limited, and not all good.”
Despite the demonstrated perils of pride, many people object that the idea of self-serving bias overlooks those who feel worthless and unlovable. If self-serving bias prevails, why do so many people disparage themselves? For four reasons: (1) Sometimes self-directed put-downs are subtly strategic—they elicit reassuring strokes. Saying “No one likes me” may at least elicit “But not everyone has met you!” (2) Other times, such as before a game or a test, self-disparaging comments prepare us for possible failure. The coach who extols the superior strength of the upcoming opponent makes a loss understandable, a victory noteworthy. (3) A self-disparaging “How could I have been so stupid!” also helps us learn from our mistakes. (4) Self-disparagement frequently pertains to one’s old self. Asked to remember their really bad behaviors, people recall things from long ago; good behaviors more easily come to mind from their recent past (Escobedo & Adolphs, 2010). Even when they have not changed, people are much more critical of their distant past selves than of their current selves (Wilson & Ross, 2001). “At 14, I was a jerk; today I’m more sensitive.” In their own eyes, chumps yesterday, champs today.
“ If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.”
Max Ehrmann, “Desiderata,” 1927
Even so, all of us some of the time (and some of us much of the time) do feel inferior. This is especially true when we compare ourselves with those who are a step or two higher on the ladder of status, looks, income, or ability. Olympians who win silver medals, barely missing gold, show greater sadness on the awards podium compared with the bronze medal winners (Medvec et al., 1995). The deeper and more frequently we have such feelings, the more unhappy or even depressed we become. But for most people, thinking has a naturally positive bias.
While recognizing the dark side of excessive self-esteem, some researchers identify two types of self-esteem—defensive and secure (Kernis, 2003; Lambird & Mann, 2006; Ryan & Deci, 2004). Defensive self-esteem is fragile. It focuses on sustaining itself, which makes failure and criticism feel threatening. Defensive people may respond to such perceived threats with anger or aggression (Crocker & Park, 2004; Donnellan et al., 2005).
Secure self-esteem is less fragile, because it is less contingent on external evaluations. To feel accepted for who we are, and not for our looks, wealth, or acclaim, relieves pressures to succeed and enables us to focus beyond ourselves. By losing ourselves in relationships and purposes larger than ourselves, we may achieve a more secure self-esteem, satisfying relationships, and greater quality of life (Crocker & Park, 2004). Authentic pride, rooted in actual achievement, supports self-confidence and leadership (Tracy et al., 2009; Weidman et al., 2016; Williams & DeSteno, 2009).
“ True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less.”
C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, 1952