Are you looking for the truth, or evidence that you're right?
A few years ago I was working on a project when a chap I was working with told me he thought I was apathetic about the work we were doing.
Apathetic.
Of all the things you might accuse me of being, apathetic isn't one I'd expect. If anything, I would say I have the opposite problem.
A little bemused, I was keen to understand the thinking behind his belief.
He explained that he'd made three observations which had led him to that conclusion.
I didn't dispute the observations. The things he'd described had happened.
What I disputed was what he thought those observations meant.
I thought he'd misread the situation. After all, if anyone ought to know whether I'm apathetic, surely it's me?
His response?
"Nope, I've got three bits of data".
And apparently, that settled it.
I've been thinking about that conversation ever since.
I am always banging on about the importance of using facts and data in drawing conclusions and making decisions, and he had done exactly that.
So why do I still think about it?
Not particularly because somebody thought I was apathetic; I've been called far worse. I think it stays with me because of what it revealed about the way we use evidence to reach conclusions.
Or, perhaps more accurately, the way we use evidence to justify conclusions we've already reached.
Three data points
Let's get something straight.
Three observations might be more than enough to reach a reasonable conclusion.
Sometimes a single observation is enough.
It's not simply about the quantity of evidence. It's about its quality, relevance and significance. It's also about weighing all of the evidence.
Imagine you have a hundred observations available to you.
Three appear to support a particular conclusion and 97 don't. If you focus on those three and ignore the rest, are you really drawing a conclusion from the evidence, or are you selecting evidence to support your conclusion?
There's a big difference.
And it's a distinction we don't always recognise, particularly when we're convinced we're right.
Confirmation bias: observations aren't explanations
Psychologists have a name for our tendency to favour information that supports what we already believe.
Confirmation bias.
Once we've formed an opinion, we become more likely to notice, interpret and remember information that reinforces it, while giving less consideration to information that challenges it.
Think about someone you've decided has a poor attitude.
They sit quietly through a meeting.
Disengaged.
They challenge a decision you've made.
Difficult.
They don't volunteer to take on some additional work.
Not a team player.
There it is again.
Three observations. Three bits of data. Case closed.
Except perhaps they're quiet because they're listening and thinking.
Perhaps they're challenging your decision because they've spotted something you've missed.
Perhaps they're already stretched and taking on more work would mean letting somebody else down.
The observations might be entirely accurate.
It's the meaning you've attached to them that could be wrong.
We can see what somebody does. We can't necessarily see why they do it.
Disengagement, difficulty and apathy aren't observations. They're interpretations.
That doesn't mean our interpretations are always wrong. It means we ought to recognise them for what they are.
Interpretations, not facts.
And once you've decided somebody has a poor attitude, every subsequent interaction becomes another opportunity to prove yourself right.
The danger of being right
There's another problem with confirmation bias.
The more evidence we collect in support of our position, the more confident we become.
And the more confident we become, the less inclined we may be to question ourselves.
Eventually, we stop asking whether our interpretation is correct and start protecting it instead.
And perhaps the biggest warning sign is how we respond when somebody challenges our interpretation.
Do we welcome the opportunity to test our thinking?
Or do we double down, searching for more evidence to prove we're right?
Because if we're genuinely interested in understanding what's happening, somebody disagreeing with our interpretation should make us curious.
- What have I misunderstood?
- What other explanations might there be?
- What evidence contradicts my conclusion?
- What would it take to change my mind?
Those questions are much more useful than finding a fourth bit of data to reinforce what we already believe.
The cost of getting it wrong
This matters because the conclusions leaders reach about people influence how they lead them.
Decide somebody is disengaged and you might stop involving them.
Decide somebody is difficult and you might stop listening to their concerns.
Decide somebody is incapable and you might stop giving them opportunities.
Ironically, your behaviour towards them can eventually contribute to the very behaviour you thought you'd identified:
The person you decided was disengaged becomes disengaged because you've stopped involving them.
The person you labelled difficult stops offering constructive challenge because nobody listens anyway.
The operator you've decided can't be trusted to make decisions stops taking initiative because you insist on making every decision for them.
And now you've got even more evidence.
You were right all along.
Or were you?
Curiosity before certainty
I don't think the answer is to stop forming opinions.
We couldn't function without making judgements based on what we observe.
And leaders need to make decisions, often with incomplete information.
But we can be more deliberate about separating what we know from what we think we know.
We can ask whether we've considered the available evidence, including the bits that don't support our preferred explanation.
And we can recognise that having evidence to support a conclusion isn't the same as having reached an evidence-based conclusion.
Perhaps most importantly, we can approach people with curiosity rather than certainty.
Instead of telling somebody they're disengaged, explain what you've noticed and ask what's happening.
Instead of deciding somebody is resistant, try to understand their concerns.
Instead of defending your interpretation, be prepared to challenge it.
Because the objective shouldn't be to prove that we're right.
It should be to understand what's actually true.
Stay curious, folks.