Survivorship bias helps us understand why success stories are not what
actually help us succeed
Former Secretary
of Defense Donald Rumsfeld is famous for uttering a koan-like description of
the epistomological ambiguity of human experience:
There are known knowns; there are things we know that we know.
There are known unknowns; that is to say, there are things that we now know we don't know.
But there are also unknown unknowns – there are things we do not know we don’t know.
(Interestingly,
it appears Rumsfeld did not pen the koan himself; correspondent J.S.S. noted
that the original source may be Landmark Education of Seattle, Washington.)
I recently read
two fascinating accounts of why we have such a difficult time knowing what we
don't know: it's called survivor bias, and what that
means is we only get information from the survivors, not those who perished and
vanished from the records.
A mid-list
author recently explained how listening to the handful of authors who make it
big financially is completely misleading: Survivorship
bias: why 90% of the advice about writing is BS right now.
Here's how this
works: big-bucks Author Z says, here are the 10 steps you need to take to
become as successful as me. The list always mentions perseverance, being nice
to your readers, writing 1,000 words a day and so on.
The 99.9% of
writers/authors who make less than $10,000 a year from their writing (and the
99% who make less than $1,000) take this list as a script or program that if
followed, will yield great success. But the 99% follow the script and do the 10
things and discover they are still unknown and not making any money.
The point is
that nobody asks the 99% who fail to make it big what they did, or try to
analyze what they did that prevented their success.
The numbers of
people who become successful in these sorts of high-competition careers is
vanishingly small--hedge fund managers are an example, along with musical acts,
artists and writers. A handful at the top make most of the money, a relative
few make some money (let's say a middle-class income) and then 99% make
near-zero.
Longtime
correspondent B.C. recently sent me an analysis of how many mutual fund
managers outperformed a "dumb" low-cost index fund. B.C. found that
66 managers out of 26,507 outperformed the SPX over 5 years. That mirrors the
distribution of outsized success among hedge fund managers, a few of whom net
$500 million each annually while the rest underperform a plain old index fund.
The conclusion
is that luck is the ultimate factor in these signal-noise levels of success, and being in
the right place at the right time with the right product/idea can't be
replicated by following a script or list of tips.
This essay is
longer and well worth a read: Survivorship
Bias The Misconception: You should study the
successful if you wish to become successful.
The basic idea
here is that studying the aircraft that come back riddled with holes from
bombing missions leads us astray when we try to analyze the damage: what would
really help us is studying the planes that were shot down, but they are
unavailable for study.
The same
principle applies to restaurants: the few that become roaring successes are
endlessly studied, but the causes of success and failure are actually buried in
the stories of all those that failed and close their doors. But nobody collects
that data, for a number of reasons, including the study of failure isn't sexy
and won't sell magazines.
We know that we
learn from mistakes and failures, yet the study of failure is never recorded or
saved unless the company or individual "came back from the dead," for
example, Apple after Steve Jobs returned to lead the company from the abyss in
1996.
Survivorship
bias is a profound insight into how we confuse the known unknowns and the
unknown unknowns.
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