Super Thinking summary

How we look at something determines the way we think about it. Take it from nineteenth-century German mathematician Carl Jacobi. His motto? “Invert, always invert,” which means that it’s often easier to solve a problem when you approach it from the opposite or “inverse” point of view. 

Investors, for instance, usually assume their aim is to make money. But Jacobi would say that it’s actually to avoid losing money. That goes for decision-making, too. Common sense says that making better calls is about being right more often; inversion tells us it’s actually about being wrong less often.

We’ve just seen that solid reasoning is built on fundamental truths, but how do you know those are correct? It’s an age-old question. The second-century Roman astronomer Ptolemy, for example, argued that it was a “good principle to explain phenomena by the simplest hypothesis possible.”

Twelve hundred years later, the English philosopher William of Ockham reached the same conclusion: when confronted with equally plausible and competing assumptions, the simpler is more likely to be true. Call it Ockham’s razor. The idea is to “shave off” unnecessarily intricate explanations. In other words, think horses, not zebras, when you hear hoofbeats. 

Working out other people’s motivations is tricky, especially when they’re strangers. The upshot? We jump to unfair conclusions. If a colleague sends us a curt one-line email, we think he’s being dismissive and discount the idea that he might just be in a rush. 

Psychologists call that a fundamental attribution error: While we explain our own behavior by looking to our intentions and external circumstances, we ascribe other people’s actions to essential characteristics. If you run a red light, it’s because you need to get to the hospital; if another driver does it, it’s because she’s inherently reckless. 

The peppered moth is a night-active species native to temperate climates, and a familiar sight across Britain. Before the Industrial Revolution, most peppered moths in northwestern England were light-colored, a trait that helped them camouflage themselves on light tree bark. But between 1811 and 1895, the percentage of dark peppered moths rose from 0.01 percent to 98 percent. What happened? 

It’s a classic example of Darwin’s theory of the “survival of the fittest.” Pollution from coal mines covered trees in a thick layer of soot. Lighter moths then became easy prey for predators, while their darker counterparts remained hidden – and thrived. 

We live in a data-driven world. Quantification, once the preserve of scientists and engineers, shapes the way we understand everything from climate change to our personal lives. You might even be using apps that tally up your daily movements and tell you how much sleep you’re getting. 

That’s good, right? Well, yes and no. As the American writer Mark Twain liked to point out, there are “Lies, damned lies and statistics.” Numbers, in other words, can mislead as easily as they can inform. And that’s why it’s so important to avoid statistical stumbles.

Let’s face it: life is full of conflict. In economics, these adversarial situations are sometimes described as “social games” pitting self-interested “players” against one another. Most conventional games are zero-sum: if you win, I lose. Unlike chess, however, real life isn’t black-and-white. Sometimes everyone can win. 

Take a study of tipping discussed in American psychologist Robert Cialdini’s 1984 book Influence. It found that waiters who give their customers small gifts increase their tips. An after-dinner mint equalled a three percent rise. Two mints took that to 14 percent, while two mints and a line like, “And for you nice folks, an extra mint” pushed it to 23 percent.