Carl%20Sagan%20-%20The%20Demon%20Haunted%20World

Carl%20Sagan%20-%20The%20Demon%20Haunted%20World Carl%20Sagan%20-%20The%20Demon%20Haunted%20World

giancarlo3000
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04.10.2012 Views

THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD three-point baskets from all over the floor that he shrugged his shoulders in amazement at himself. In contrast, there are times when you're cold, when nothing goes in. When a player is in the groove he seems to be tapping into some mysterious power, and when ice-cold he's under some kind of jinx or spell. But this is magical, not scientific thinking. Streakiness, far from being remarkable, is expected, even for random events. What would be amazing would be no streaks. If I flip a penny ten times in a row, I might get this sequence of heads and tails: HHHTHTHHHH. Eight heads out of ten, and four in a row! Was I exercising some psychokinetic control over my penny? Was I in a heads groove? It looks much too regular to be due to chance. But then I remember that I was flipping before and after I got this run of heads, that it's embedded in a much longer and less interesting sequence: HHTHTTHHHTHTHHHHTHT T H T H T T. If I'm permitted to pay attention to some results and ignore others, I'll always be able to 'prove' there's something exceptional about my streak. This is one of the fallacies in the baloney detection kit, the enumeration of favourable circumstances. We remember the hits and forget the misses. If your ordinary field goal shooting percentage is 50 per cent and you can't improve your statistics by an effort of will, you're exactly as likely to have a hot hand in basketball as I am in coin-flipping. As often as I get eight out of ten heads, you'll get eight out of ten baskets. Basketball can teach something about probability and statistics, as well as critical thinking. An investigation by my colleague Tom Gilovich, professor of psychology at Cornell, shows persuasively that our ordinary understanding of the basketball streak is a misperception. Gilovich studied whether shots made by NBA players tend to cluster more than you'd expect by chance. After making one or two or three baskets, players were no more likely to succeed than after a missed basket. This was true for the great and the near-great, not only for field goals but for free throws - where there's no hand in your face. (Of course some attenuation of shooting streaks can be attributed to increased attention by the defence to the player with the 'hot hand'.) In baseball, there's the 348

Significance Junkies related but contrary myth that someone batting below his average is 'due' to make a hit. This is no more true than that a few heads in a row makes the chance of flipping tails next time anything other than 50 per cent. If there are streaks beyond what you'd expect statistically, they're hard to find. But somehow this doesn't satisfy. It doesn't feel true. Ask the players, or the coaches, or the fans. We seek meaning, even in random numbers. We're significance junkies. When the celebrated coach Red Auerbach heard of Gilovich's study, his response was: 'Who is this guy? So he makes a study. I couldn't care less.' And you know exactly how he feels. But if basketball streaks don't show up more often than sequences of heads or tails, there's nothing magical about them. Does this reduce players to mere marionettes, manipulated by the laws of chance? Certainly not. Their average shooting percentages are a true reflection of their personal skills. This is only about the frequency and duration of streaks. Of course, it's much more fun to think that the gods have touched the player who's on a streak and scorned the one with a cold hand. So what? What's the harm of a little mystification? It sure beats boring statistical analyses. In basketball, in sports, no harm. But as a habitual way of thinking, it gets us into trouble in some of the other games we like to play. 'Scientist, yes; mad, no' giggles the mad scientist on 'Gilligan's Island' as he adjusts the electronic device that permits him to control the minds of others for his own nefarious purpose. 'I'm sorry, Dr Nerdnik, the people of Earth will not appreciate being shrunk to three inches high, even if it will save room and energy . . .' The cartoon superhero is patiently explaining an ethical dilemma to the typical scientist portrayed on Saturdaymorning children's television. Many of these so-called scientists - judging from the programmes I've seen (and plausible inference about ones I haven't, such as the Mad Scientist's 'Toon Club) - are moral cripples driven by a lust for power or endowed with a spectacular insensitivity to the feelings of others. The message conveyed to the moppet audience is that science is dangerous and 349

Significance Junkies<br />

related but contrary myth that someone batting below his average<br />

is 'due' to make a hit. This is no more true than that a few heads in<br />

a row makes the chance of flipping tails next time anything other<br />

than 50 per cent. If there are streaks beyond what you'd expect<br />

statistically, they're hard to find.<br />

But somehow this doesn't satisfy. It doesn't feel true. Ask the<br />

players, or the coaches, or the fans. We seek meaning, even in<br />

random numbers. We're significance junkies. When the celebrated<br />

coach Red Auerbach heard of Gilovich's study, his<br />

response was: 'Who is this guy? So he makes a study. I couldn't<br />

care less.' And you know exactly how he feels. But if basketball<br />

streaks don't show up more often than sequences of heads or tails,<br />

there's nothing magical about them. Does this reduce players to<br />

mere marionettes, manipulated by the laws of chance? Certainly<br />

not. Their average shooting percentages are a true reflection of<br />

their personal skills. This is only about the frequency and duration<br />

of streaks.<br />

Of course, it's much more fun to think that the gods have<br />

touched the player who's on a streak and scorned the one with a<br />

cold hand. So what? What's the harm of a little mystification? It<br />

sure beats boring statistical analyses. In basketball, in sports, no<br />

harm. But as a habitual way of thinking, it gets us into trouble in<br />

some of the other games we like to play.<br />

'Scientist, yes; mad, no' giggles the mad scientist on 'Gilligan's<br />

Island' as he adjusts the electronic device that permits him to<br />

control the minds of others for his own nefarious purpose.<br />

'I'm sorry, Dr Nerdnik, the people of Earth will not appreciate<br />

being shrunk to three inches high, even if it will save room and<br />

energy . . .' The cartoon superhero is patiently explaining an<br />

ethical dilemma to the typical scientist portrayed on Saturdaymorning<br />

children's television.<br />

Many of these so-called scientists - judging from the programmes<br />

I've seen (and plausible inference about ones I<br />

haven't, such as the Mad Scientist's 'Toon Club) - are moral<br />

cripples driven by a lust for power or endowed with a spectacular<br />

insensitivity to the feelings of others. The message conveyed<br />

to the moppet audience is that science is dangerous and<br />

349

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