Tis the new year , a time when all things seem possible in the future. Forget the sorrows of the past, the roadblocks to happiness you encountered and prepare for a glorious new future. Really! Yes, really. If you want to be happy, you need to be optimistic about the future. That is what nature wants you to do. And latest research findings support this view.
Somehow, we
can grow pessimistic about life in general while continuing to be upbeat about
our own future. We all like to think of ourselves as rational creatures who
smartly prepare for the worst. We watch our back, weigh the odds and pack an
umbrella when the skies look threatening. But although we take such
precautions, we generally expect things to turn out pretty well — often better
than they actually do.
The belief that the future will probably be much better than the
past and present is known as the optimism bias, and most of us have this
tendency to overestimate the likelihood of good events happening to us and
underestimate the likelihood that bad events will come crashing down. For instance, people hugely underestimate their chances of losing
their job or being diagnosed with cancer. They also envision themselves
achieving more than their peers and overestimate their likely life span,
sometimes by 20 years or more.
In short, we are often more optimistic than realistic. Take
marriage, for example. In the Western world, divorce rates are higher than 40
percent: Two out of five marriages end in divorce. But newlyweds estimate their
own likelihood of divorce at zero. Even divorce lawyers, who should know better, hugely underestimate
their own likelihood of divorce. Although the sunniest optimists are just as
likely to divorce as the next person, they are also more likely to remarry. In
the words of the 18th-century English author Samuel Johnson, “Remarriage is the
triumph of hope over experience.”
Many of us who have children believe that our kids will be
especially talented, even while thinking our neighbor’s kids aren’t all that
promising. A survey conducted in 2007 on behalf of the BBC found that 93
percent of respondents were optimistic about the future of their own family,
while only 17 percent were optimistic about the future of other families.
Collectively, we can grow pessimistic — about the future of our fellow
citizens, about the direction of our country, about the ability of our leaders
to improve education and reduce crime — while we continue to think our own
future is bright.
Why does optimism about our personal future remain incredibly
resilient? It is not that we think things will magically turn out okay for us,
but rather that we believe we have the unique abilities to make it so.
Optimism starts with what may be the most extraordinary of human
talents: mental time travel, the ability to move back and forth through time
and space in one’s mind. To think positively about our prospects, it helps to
be able to imagine ourselves in the future. Our capacity to envision a
different time and place is critical for our survival. It allows us to plan
ahead, to save food and resources for times of scarcity, and to endure hard
work in anticipation of a future reward.
While mental time travel has clear survival advantages, conscious
foresight came to humans at an enormous price — the understanding that death
awaits. The knowledge that old age, sickness, decline of mental power and
oblivion are somewhere around the corner can be devastating.
Ajit Varki, a biologist at the University of California at San
Diego, argues that the awareness of mortality on its own would have led
evolution to a dead end. The despair would have interfered with our daily
function, bringing the daily activities needed for survival to a stop. The only
way that conscious mental time travel could have arisen is if it emerged along
with irrational optimism. The knowledge of death had to emerge in parallel with
the brain's persistent ability to picture a bright future.
But the brain doesn’t travel in time randomly. It tends to engage
in specific types of thoughts: We consider how well our kids will do in life,
how we will obtain that desired job, whether our team will win, and we look
forward to an enjoyable night on the town. We also worry about losing loved
ones, failing at our job or dying in a plane crash. But research shows that
most of us spend less time mulling over negative outcomes than we do over
positive ones. When we do contemplate defeat and heartache, we tend to focus on
how these can be avoided.
Why do we maintain this rosy bias even when information
challenging our upbeat forecasts is so readily available? We experience both
positive and negative events in our lives. We know the economy is unstable, for
example, but still we remain optimistic about our own future. When expectations
are not met, we alter them. This should eventually lead to sober realism, not
blind optimism.
Where do these irrational beliefs come from? This disconnect is
related to something scientists call prediction errors, which describe the
difference between what you expect and what actually happens.
Research findings are striking: When people learn, their neurons
encode desirable information that can enhance optimism, but the neurons fail at
incorporating unexpectedly undesirable information. When we hear a success
story such as that of Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg, our brains take note of
the possibility that we, too, may become immensely successful and rich one day.
But hearing that the odds of divorce are almost one in two tends not to make us
think that our own marriage may be destined to fail.
Does everyone show an optimistic bias?
As it turns out, they do.
It seems that people of all age
groups changed their beliefs more in response to good news, and they discounted
bad news. Even more surprising was the finding that kids and elderly people
both showed more of a bias than college students. On one hand, the young and
the old were quite good at responding to desirable information: Everyone
updated their beliefs similarly when they learned they were less likely to get
cancer or have their credit card stolen than they had initially believed. But
when they learned their chances were worse than expected, kids, teenagers and
older adults seemed to ignore this information more than college students and
middle-aged individuals.
The behavioral economist Andrew Oswald has found that from about
the time we are teenagers, our sense of happiness starts to decline, hitting
rock bottom in our mid-40s. (Middle-age crisis, anyone?) Then our sense of
happiness miraculously starts to go up again rapidly as we grow older. This
finding contradicts the common assumption that people in their 60s, 70s and 80s
are less happy and satisfied than people in their 30s and 40s.
How can we explain this?
The first thing that comes to mind is
that these changes have something to do with raising kids in our 30s and 40s.
Could it be that having children in the household has a negative influence on
our happiness? Oswald ruled out this possibility. It seems that older individuals are happier and more satisfied than middle-aged individuals
even though the health of the former is generally worse.
Oswald tested half a million
people in 72 countries, in both developing and developed nations. He observed
the same pattern across all parts of the globe and across sexes. Happiness
diminishes as we transition from childhood to adulthood and then starts rising
as we grow wrinkles and acquire gray hair. And it’s not only we humans who
slump in the middle and feel sunnier toward the end. Just recently, Oswald and
colleagues demonstrated that even chimpanzees and orangutans appear to
experience a similar pattern of midlife malaise.
Oswald did observe some
interesting differences. For one, the age at which happiness is at its lowest
is different around the world. In Britain, for example, happiness reaches rock
bottom quite early — at 35.8 years of age — before it starts going up again. In
Italy, by contrast, happiness hits its ultimate low much later — at 64.2 years.
And while women reach the bottom of the happiness barrel at 38.6 years on
average, men reach it more than a decade later — at 52.9 years.
What explains the age findings?
One possible answer is that happy people live longer, while pessimistic ones
die earlier, so those elderly individuals who remain for scientists to test are
happier than the average 30- or 40-year-old. Another possibility is that older
individuals have experienced a larger range of adverse events, so they are less
likely to view these events as frightening and consequential; thus, their
psychological coping mechanisms may be better. A third potential explanation is
that the decreased ability in older adults to take bad news into account may be
enhancing their optimism and thus increasing their happiness. The decline may
be connected with age-related changes in frontal lobe function, which is
important for incorporating new information into prior beliefs.
Why would our brains be wired in
a way that makes us prone to optimistic illusions? It is tempting to speculate
that optimism was selected by evolution precisely because, on balance, positive
expectations enhance the odds of survival. Research findings that optimists
live longer and are healthier, along with the fact that most humans display
optimistic biases — and emerging data that optimism is linked to specific genes
— all strongly support this hypothesis.
But the optimism bias also
protects and inspires us: It keeps us moving forward, rather than to the
nearest high-rise ledge. To make progress, we need to be able to imagine
alternative realities, and not just any old reality but a better one; and we
need to believe that we can achieve it. Such faith helps motivate us to pursue
our goals.
No comments:
Post a Comment