Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error

These early chapters’ ideas are a necessary preface to Being Wrong because they situate Schulz’s work in a long philosophical, scientific, literary tradition. The author reviews historical attempts to define and delineate wrongness, showing how centuries-long Western thought has sought an accurate definition of error (Locke and Heidegger exemplify such thinkers). The field of error studies is a modern-day means of categorizing wrongness, and the Pessimistic Meta-Induction from the History of Science is a major scientific and philosophical theory of error. However, Schulz details these theories not only to contextualize her own study but to contrast herself against the traditional discourse: Rather than trying to neatly define the multifaceted complexity of human error, the author will focus on how we feel and think about being wrong. This distinct approach is crucial to her ultimate intention; rather than theoretical clarity, she seeks actual transformation in individual lives, hoping that we can learn to view our fallibility as a path toward insight into others, ourselves, and the world around us.

The author’s distinct approach, in this regard, also becomes a theme that emerges in these chapters: how we view and feel about erring—chiefly, our tremendous (and counterproductive) aversion to it, and what that aversion costs us. Although fallibility is intrinsic to humanity, being wrong can evoke a range of unpleasant feelings, primarily shame-based. When we do make a mistake, we often ignore it or react defensively. The author asserts that Western culture has not mastered the ability to admit personal error, due to such distasteful associations with the experience. People will therefore categorize such instances of personal error under the umbrella of “embarrassing moments” and “lessons learned”—but these interpretations of personal error function to mitigate our discomfort, and they prevent us from using our wrongness more constructively. Moreover, we are limited in our very perception of error; humans have a tendency toward “error-blindness,” in which our error exists entirely because we are oblivious to it. This presents a kind of paradox whereby once we know we are wrong, we cease to be wrong, and we thus can never simply sit with being wrong. Our experience of erring—in addition to being distasteful—is highly elusive. Finally, Schulz demonstrates how being wrong causes an internal conflict as we find ourselves at odds with what we thought we knew about ourselves, resulting in a kind of identity crisis. This discomfort is yet another of our negative reactions to the experience of being wrong.

These chapters also present two contrasting models of wrongness. The author includes these models not for the mere sake of contrast, but to illuminate an entire, unexplored paradigm shift. There is the pessimistic model of wrongness and the optimistic model. The pessimistic model is in keeping with our general feelings about being wrong, such as humiliation and defeat. The author argues, however, that this is our “meta-mistake” (5)—we are wrong about what it means to be wrong. On the other hand, the optimistic model of error not only enables us to experience other emotions in the face of mistakes, such as surprise and delight, but it can also help us rethink how we relate to ourselves, others, and the world in general. Furthermore, through this model, we can come to view erring—seeing the world as it is not—as the essence of imagination and creativity. Error is also framed as a springboard for insight in its ability to bring us closer to the truth. Through this perspective, the author sheds a whole new light on the nature of erring, revealing its potential beyond the traditionally dysphoric associations.