A series of a seemingly growing bacterial population (or of sales records, or of any variable observed through time—such as the total feeding of the turkey in Chapter 4).
FIGURE 4
Easy to fit the trend—there is one and only one linear model that fits the data. You can project a continuation into the future
FIGURE 5
We look at a broader scale. Hey, other models also fit it rather well.
FIGURE 6
And the real “generating process” is extremely simple but it had nothing to do with a linear model! Some parts of it appear to be linear and we are fooled by extrapolating in a direct line.[38]
So not only can the past be misleading, but there are also many degrees of freedom in our interpretation of past events.
For the technical version of this idea, consider a series of dots on a page representing a number through time—the graph would resemble Figure 1 showing the first thousand days in Chapter 4. Let’s say your high school teacher asks you to extend the series of dots. With a linear model, that is, using a ruler, you can run only a straight line, a
This is what the philosopher Nelson Goodman called the riddle of induction: We project a straight line only because we have a linear model in our head—the fact that a number has risen for 1,000 days straight should make you more confident that it will rise in the future. But if you have a nonlinear model in your head, it might confirm that the number should decline on day 1,001.
Let’s say that you observe an emerald. It was green yesterday and the day before yesterday. It is green again today. Normally this would confirm the “green” property: we can assume that the emerald will be green tomorrow. But to Goodman, the emerald’s color history could equally confirm the “grue” property. What is this grue property? The emerald’s grue property is to be green until some specified date, say, December 31, 2006, and then blue thereafter.
The riddle of induction is another version of the narrative fallacy—you face an infinity of “stories” that explain what you have seen. The severity of Goodman’s riddle of induction is as follows: if there is no longer even a single unique way to “generalize” from what you see, to make an inference about the unknown, then how should you operate? The answer, clearly, will be that you should employ “common sense,” but your common sense may not be so well developed with respect to some Extremistan variables.
THAT GREAT ANTICIPATION MACHINE
The reader is entitled to wonder, So, NNT, why on earth do we plan? Some people do it for monetary gain, others because it’s “their job.” But we also do it without such intentions—spontaneously.
Why? The answer has to do with human nature. Planning may come with the package of what makes us human, namely, our consciousness.
There is supposed to be an evolutionary dimension to our need to project matters into the future, which I will rapidly summarize here, since it can be an excellent candidate explanation, an excellent conjecture, though, since it is linked to evolution, I would be cautious.
The idea, as promoted by the philosopher Daniel Dennett, is as follows: What is the most potent use of our brain? It is precisely the ability to project conjectures into the future and play the counterfactual game—“If I punch him in the nose, then he will punch me back right away, or, worse, call his lawyer in New York.” One of the advantages of doing so is that we can let our conjectures die in our stead. Used correctly and in place of more visceral reactions, the ability to project effectively frees us from immediate, first-order natural selection—as opposed to more primitive organisms that were vulnerable to death and only grew by the improvement in the gene pool through the selection of the best. In a way, projecting allows us to cheat evolution: it now takes place in our head, as a series of projections and counterfactual scenarios.