The great counseling psychologist Carl Rogers once objected to the religious doctrine that humanity’s problems arise from excessive self-love—a.k.a. pride, the foundation of the seven deadly sins. In his experience, most people instead “despise themselves, regard themselves as worthless and unlovable.” As the comedian Groucho Marx once jested, “I wouldn’t want to belong to any club that would accept me as a member.”
Actually, most of us have a good reputation with ourselves. In studies of self-esteem, even those who score relatively low will fall in the midrange of possible scores. Responding to statements such as “I have good ideas” or “I am fun to be with” with a middling “somewhat” or “sometimes” will mark you as having low self-esteem. In every one of fifty-three countries studied, the average self-esteem score was above the midpoint of the scale’s range of possible scores.
High self-esteem scores are but the first pointer to one of psychology’s most provocative, life-relevant, and oft-replicated findings: we humans commonly exhibit self-serving bias. We perceive ourselves as better than most and explain events in self-enhancing ways. If that doesn’t surprise you (Rogers’s belief notwithstanding), consider how this phenomenon lurks in the human psyche, starting with the better-than-average phenomenon.
The sixth-century B.C. Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu said that someone “who is sane [will never] over-reach himself, over-spend himself, over-rate himself.” If so, then nearly all of us are a little insane.
Name any subjective and socially desirable dimension—intelligence, looks, health, tolerance, insightfulness, job competence, morality, and so on—and I will guarantee you that most people will see themselves as better than the average person.
The humorist Dave Barry had that idea: “The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status, or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we all believe that we are above-average drivers.” Indeed, drivers—even most drivers who have been hospitalized in accidents—believe themselves to be safer and more skilled than the average driver.
A sampling of other research findings:
Competence: In surveys, 90 percent of business managers have rated their performance as superior to that of their average peer. The same is true of college instructors, more than 90 percent of whom have rated their teaching as better than average. Eighty-six percent of Australians rated their job performance as above average; only 1 percent rated their performance as below average. And most surgeons believed their patients’ mortality is lower than average. When merit raises are distributed, many workers will surely feel mistreated with an average or even below-average reward. And when most people in a group believe they are underpaid and underappreciated, given their “better-than-average” contributions, disharmony and envy will surely result.
Ethics and virtues: “How would you rate your own morals and values on a scale from 1 to 100 (100 being perfect)?” In a national survey, 50 percent of respondents rated themselves 90 or higher; only 11 percent said 74 or below. Thus, most American businesspeople saw themselves as more ethical than the average businessperson. Most Dutch high school students rated themselves as more honest, persistent, reliable, and friendly than their average peer. And most folks saw themselves as more likely than others to give to charity, give up their bus seat to a pregnant woman, or donate blood. University students reported they are more likely (90 percent) than their peers (75 percent) to vote in an upcoming election, although only 69 percent actually did. (Their predictions of others’ behavior were more accurate than their self-predictions.)
Health: Most people viewed themselves as healthier than most of their neighbors. And most college students believed they would outlive the actuarial prediction of their age of death by ten years—a finding that Freud foresaw in his reputed joke about the husband who told his wife, “If one of us dies, I shall move to Paris.”
Attractiveness: Is it your experience, as it is mine, that most photographs of you don’t quite do you justice? One clever experiment showed people several faces—one their own, the others being their face morphed with those of less and more attractive faces. Asked which was their own real face, most folks identified an attractively enhanced version of their actual face.
Effort: As a general rule, group members’ estimates of what fraction of the effort they contribute to a joint task will usually sum to more than 100 percent. In a survey of heterosexual married partners, 49 percent of husbands estimated that they did half to most of the childcare, while only 31 percent of their wives agreed. And while 56 percent of the husbands said they do most of the cooking, 70 percent of the wives said they did.
My wife and I used to pitch our dirty laundry each night on the floor next to our clothes hamper. The next morning, one of us would move the clothes into the hamper. When she suggested I not leave this mundane task to her, I thought, “What? I already do it 75 percent of the time!” So I asked how often she thought she picked up the clothes. “Oh,” she replied, “about 75 percent of the time.” And we wonder why some happy honeymooners mature into aggrieved spouses?
Social skills: I first stumbled across the better-than-average phenomenon when noting a peculiar result buried in a College Board survey of 829,000 high school seniors. Asked to rate themselves in “ability to get along with others,” almost none (less than one-half of 1 percent) rated themselves below average. Sixty percent rated themselves in the top 10 percent. And 25 percent put themselves in the top 1 percent.
So, we all live in Garrison Keillor’s fictional Lake Wobegon—where “all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.” The Lake Wobegon effect, as I have called it, is strongest for traits that are not just socially desirable but also subjective: for social skill more than for math ability; for honesty more than running speed; for leadership skill more than singing ability.
We not only tend to see ourselves as better than most; we also explain good and bad events in ways that protect or enhance our self-regard. “Victory finds a hundred fathers but defeat is an orphan,” wrote the Italian diplomat Count Galeazzo Ciano, words later echoed by John F. Kennedy. That’s an apt summary of many dozens of experiments. In each, people have accepted credit when informed they’ve succeeded, attributing their success to their effort and ability. But when told they’ve failed, they attribute the result to something external—perhaps bad luck or the “impossible” task.
In real-life settings, athletes credit themselves for victories and more often attribute losses to bad breaks, bad refereeing, or the other team’s exceptional performance or dirty play. And those better-than-average drivers? On insurance forms, they have explained accidents as “An invisible car came out of nowhere, struck my car, and vanished,” or “As I reached an intersection, a hedge sprang up, obscuring my vision, and I did not see the other car,” or even “A pedestrian hit me and went under my car.”
Students similarly sustain their positive self-understanding by accepting responsibility for successes and verbally distancing themselves from failures. “I got an A on my psych test,” but “The professor gave me a C on my lit essay.”
Situations that blend chance and skill are made-to-order conditions for these self-serving attributions. When I win at Scrabble, it’s confirmation of my vast verbal reservoir. When I lose, it’s because “Who could do anything with a Q but no U?”
So, when business profits soar, CEOs welcome large bonuses for leading their companies to success. And when their companies lose money, well, “It’s what one would expect in a down market.”
Self-serving attributions feed bargaining impasses, worker-management disputes, and marital disagreements. While managers often blame disappointing results on workers’ inability or indolence, the workers will more often attribute the underperformance to poor management or an excessive workload. And it likely will not surprise you to know that divorced people usually attribute most of their marital problems to their partner.
To some extent, self-serving bias is a natural result of how we observe and process information. I could more easily picture myself putting the dirty clothes in the hamper than all the times I didn’t. And my wife, too, was surely more likely to notice and recall her own actions than mine. But our biased perceptions also reflect our self-enhancing emotions. As much research shows, we’re not just cool information-processing computers; we’re motivated to find self-affirmation—to boost our self-image. Given a generic description of our personality based on a test or even our astrological sign, we’re likely to find it credible—when it is favorable. Flattery feels factual.
Ironically, this bias is so potent that, as the Princeton social psychologist Emily Pronin observed, people’s “bias blind spot” even leads them to think themselves less vulnerable thanaverage to self-serving bias, which they more readily see in others. In politics as in relationships, others, we agree, are biased, but we are more objective. We are not so different from the Pharisee who prayed, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people.”
I hear you objecting, “But I often hear people putting themselves down, and I sometimes feel inferior myself.” Indeed, all of us some of the time feel inferior when comparing ourselves with those a step or two higher on the ladder of looks, grades, or income. And some of us much of the time—notably those suffering from depression—do not exhibit self-serving bias. In experiments, depressed folks do not see themselves as better than average or shirk responsibility for failure. They are, in the words of one prominent researcher, “sadder but wiser”—a phenomenon that clinical researchers call “depressive realism.”
Self-serving bias is social psychology’s modern story of pride. Although pride often goes before a fall, there’s adaptive wisdom in moderate self-serving bias. Some self-disparagement can be subtly self-serving. Putting ourselves down can elicit reassuring words from friends: “I wish I weren’t so ugly” may elicit “Oh, come now, you’re so cute.”
Believing in our relative superiority also emboldens us to venture and potentially succeed where others fear to go. The opposite—doubting our relative competence and social skill, and blaming setbacks on ourselves—undercuts our potential for leadership or success.
Even so, self-serving pride is often perilous. In a debate with Carl Rogers, the theologian Reinhold Niebuhr argued that humanity’s original sin—its fundamental flaw—is excessive self-love, pretension, and pride. Self-serving pride leads us to disparage one another. The flip side of assuming credit for our individual and group achievements is blaming the seemingly less deserving poor for their poverty and the oppressed for their oppression. (...)
In one of his eighteenth-century sermons, Samuel Johnson recognized the phenomenon: “He that overvalues himself will undervalue others, and he that undervalues others will oppress them.”
How Do We Know Ourselves
David G. Myers