In which I mythbust

This was brought up on a forum thread I was perusing, by someone who took both stories as true.

If you've paid any attention to the media lately, you've probably heard of the story of Aron Ralston, the hiker who was forced to amputate his own arm to escape from a boulder that pinned him down during a hiking accident. Before doing the grisly deed (with a pocket knife), he spent several days slowly dying of thirst in the desert, with no way to contact help. Later, he wrote a book about his adventures (Between a Rock and a Hard Place, which I highly recommend), and later was the subject of a major motion picture (which I haven't seen).

But before the book and the movie, and several months after the accident itself, this article appeared describing the eerily similar story of Mark Swinton, the "impatient hiker," who was similarly trapped after a similar fall and used a similar tactic to escape. There were a few glaring differences, though: Mark Swinton had lost his pocket knife, and instead used his keys. And rather than waiting almost a week before resorting to such desperate measures, Swinton only waited ten minutes.

So, which is more likely? That two hikers, within months of each other, suffered nearly-identical accidents and resorted to the same desperate, unbelievably gutsy move to survive, and that one simply went on to be famous while the other ended up the subject of a measley two Google hits? Or that a writer with an eye for the bizarre heard Ralston's story, added a few humorous and exaggerated details, made up a new name and location, and, depending on the relative obscurity of the pre-famous Ralston to protect himself, presented it as true?

Actually, neither, it seems. The source of the Swinton story is The Brushback, a site whose other news stories have headlines like "Indiana Governor Turns Wife Over To Connecticut Governor After Losing March Madness Bet" and "Jets Win After Bengals Forget Helmets". I'd guess The Brushback is basically the sports page's equivalent to The Onion.

In which I pretend to be a food blogger

Today's experimental recipe is an improvised Italian eggplant casserole... thingy. We chopped an eggplant into slices about 1/2 inch thick, then salted it and set aside while combining ricotta cheese with a generous handful of basil and lemon balm (both home-grown) and a few cloves of garlic. Then we coated the bottom of a glass pan with tomato sauce and sliced fresh tomatoes, and layered half the eggplant slices over that, followed by the ricotta mixture, more fresh tomato, and another layer of eggplant slices. More tomato sauce was spread on top, and then a generous sprinkling of parmesan and romano cheese. This concoction is now baking in the oven at 350 degrees; soon we'll find out what it tastes like.

The Definition

“The definition of stupidity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.” I’ve heard a lot of people say that, and it annoys me to no end. The same definition has also frequently been ascribed to the word “insanity.” But it’s really the definition of neither. Stupidity is defined as low intelligence, which is approximated with the Intelligence Quotient, or IQ; someone with an IQ significantly lower than 100, or average, might be crudely called “stupid” (although other terms are considered more polite). Insanity is an outdated term for mental illness; the field of psychology discarded it years ago, and now it’s considered more proper to name the specific type of mental illness. Neither condition has ever been measured by asking the subject whether they expect a different result when repeating the same action.

But this is pedantic; most people fond of using the above “definition” will acknowledge that the behavior it describes can be thought of as stupid or insane, whether it defines these conditions or not. Perhaps, but consider the opposite behavior: doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same result. If expecting a different result is stupid and insane, then is expecting the same result smart and sane?

Think of this example, taken from an old fable: a farmer was taking a break from plowing his field, and happened to be looking at a tree stump nearby. Suddenly, a rabbit bounded out of the brush headlong into the stump, breaking its neck and dying instantly. The farmer enjoyed rabbit stew that day, marveling at how little he had to work for it, and resolved to spend his days staring at that stump, getting easy meals by watching animals kill themselves running into it. As a result, his fields never got plowed, he never planted or harvested his crops, and he soon starved to death - all because he expected the same result (free food) from the same action (watching the stump).

Now, granted, this is a very exaggerated story; nobody is that crazy. But all cautionary tales are exaggerated. They frame a common behavior in rediculous circumstances to highlight the foolishness of the behavior. People accept Red Riding Hood as a warning against trusting strangers, even though an unscrupulous stranger is more likely to cheat you than eat you. And the hapless farmer here isn’t that different from an athlete that always wears the same underwear he wore when he made his first win, or my friend who thinks adoption is a bad idea because he knew an adopted kid who was horrifically maladjusted.

In truth, both behaviors are extreme aversions of the more moderate, sensible option: waiting for sufficient information before drawing a conclusion. As every scientist knows, an experiment must be repeated many times before a reliable conclusion can be drawn. According to the stats class I failed in college, the magic number is thirty: you need at least thirty data points to get an accurate statistical analysis. So, the common phrase shouldn’t be “if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all” but rather, “if you’ve seen thirty, you’ve seen ‘em all.”

Of course, this cautious approach can be taken too far as well. Consider a woman who keeps an abusive boyfriend around after being beaten several times (but not quite thirty), because he could change. While it may be possible for a brutal person to change, most sensible people would agree that the woman would be much better off ditching him.

So, what is correct? How many examples must one see before it is safe to conclude all future examples will be similar? It’s hard to answer this question because to do so, one must already know the answer. Each situation I’ve described in this entry is an example of a person either reaching a conclusion without enough evidence, or not reaching an obvious conclusion despite plenty of evidence. How many such examples do we need before we can reach a conclusion regarding how and when it is appropriate to reach a conclusion? Until we get a definitive answer, it’s probably best to take each situation as unique, and middle through our decisions as well as we can. Most likely, the correct answer depends on several specific factors. For instance, what are the stakes involved? In the case of the abused girlfriend, the cost of staying with an abuser far outweighs the cost of rejecting a reformed one, so it’s best to quickly conclude that things aren’t going to change. Also, is there a logical reason to connect the action to the result? In the case of the superstitious athlete, there is no logical reason to believe his performance depends on what underwear he has on, and he should probably reserve judgment until he’s had overwhelming proof. There are probably many factors which should help deptermine what conclusions you should reach and when and how.

That said, I feel the need to point out that my definition of stupidity is “repeating clever-sounding fake definitions without stopping to check a dictionary.” But that’s just my personal opinion.