The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable

Investors were no problem for him—they needed his trading as insurance and paid him well. He just had to exhibit a mild degree of contempt toward those he wanted to shed, which did not take much effort on his part. This effort was not contrived: Nero did not think much of them and let his body language express it freely, all the while maintaining an unfashionably high level of courtesy. He made sure, after a long string of losses, that they did not think he was apologetic—indeed, paradoxically, they became more supportive that way. Humans will believe anything you say provided you do not exhibit the smallest shadow of diffidence; like animals, they can detect the smallest crack in your confidence before you express it. The trick is to be as smooth as possible in personal manners. It is much easier to signal self-confidence if you are exceedingly polite and friendly; you can control people without having to offend their sensitivity. The problem with business people, Nero realized, is that if you act like a loser they will treat you as a loser—you set the yardstick yourself. There is no absolute measure of good or bad. It is not what you are telling people, it is how you are saying it.

But you need to remain understated and maintain an Olympian calm in front of others.

When he worked as a trader for an investment bank, Nero had to face the typical employee-evaluation form. The form was supposed to keep track of “performance,” supposedly as a check against employees slacking off. Nero found the evaluation absurd because it did not so much judge the quality of a trader’s performance as encourage him to game the system by working for short-term profits at the expense of possible blowups—like banks that give foolish loans that have a small probability of blowing up, because the loan officer is shooting for his next quarterly evaluation. So one day early in his career, Nero sat down and listened very calmly to the evaluation of his “supervisor.” When Nero was handed the evaluation form he tore it into small pieces in front of him. He did this very slowly, accentuating the contrast between the nature of the act and the tranquillity with which he tore the paper. The boss watched him blank with fear, eyes popping out of his head. Nero focused on his undramatic, slow-motion act, elated by both the feeling of standing up for his beliefs and the aesthetics of its execution. The combination of elegance and dignity was exhilarating. He knew that he would either be fired or left alone. He was left alone.

Chapter Eight: GIACOMO CASANOVA’S UNFAILING LUCK: THE PROBLEM OF SILENT EVIDENCE

The Diagoras problem—How Black Swans make their way out of history books—Methods to help you avoid drowning—The drowned do not usually vote—We should all be stockbrokers—Do silent witnesses count?—Casanova’s étoile—New York is “so invincible”

Another fallacy in the way we understand events is that of silent evidence. History hides both Black Swans and its Black Swan-generating ability from us.

THE STORY OF THE DROWNED WORSHIPPERS

More than two thousand years ago, the Roman orator, belletrist, thinker, Stoic, manipulator-politician, and (usually) virtuous gentleman, Marcus Tullius Cicero, presented the following story. One Diagoras, a nonbeliever in the gods, was shown painted tablets bearing the portraits of some worshippers who prayed, then survived a subsequent shipwreck. The implication was that praying protects you from drowning. Diagoras asked, “Where were the pictures of those who prayed, then drowned?”

The drowned worshippers, being dead, would have a lot of trouble advertising their experiences from the bottom of the sea. This can fool the casual observer into believing in miracles.

We call this the problem of silent evidence. The idea is simple, yet potent and universal. While most thinkers try to put to shame those who came before them, Cicero puts to shame almost all empirical thinkers who came after him, until very recently.

Later on, both my hero of heroes, the essayist Michel de Montaigne and the empirical Francis Bacon, mentioned the point in their works, applying it to the formation of false beliefs. “And such is the way of all superstition, whether in astrology, dreams, omens, divine judgments, or the like,” wrote Bacon in his Novum Organum. The problem, of course, is that unless they are drilled into us systematically, or integrated into our way of thinking, these great observations are rapidly forgotten.