Category Archives: cooperation

The Encounter

Over the last couple of years, Uta & I have been meeting with Simon McBurney, director of Complicite as he prepared for his one-man show, The Encounter. Simon hoped that we might be able to tell him what neuroscience can reveal about the nature of consciousness.

The Encounter dramatizes the experiences of Loren McIntyre, as described in Amazon Beaming by Petru Popescu. When Simon told us about this book it was long out of print, but we managed to find a second hand copy. As a result of Simon’s work it was republished in 2015.

Loren McIntyre was a National Geographic photographer, and this is the story about his experiences when he was lost in the remote Amazon rain forest. His survival depends on the leader of a small group of Mayoruna people who he has followed into the jungle and then become hopelessly lost. But there is no common language through which they can communicate. He feels utterly isolated with ‘a psychological distance of 20,000 years’ between him and the people who are his only hope finding a way back. Eventually he starts to experience ‘communication’ from the leader of the group when he sits near him. He begins to understand some puzzling behaviour, for example, why the group keep destroying their villages and moving on. Remarkably, this communication doesn’t depend on language.

McBurneyIn The Encounter everyone in the audience wears earphones, which helps Simon to recreate and share all the strangeness and terror of McIntyre’s experiences through the wonder of acoustic technology.

When we first talked to Simon about the work he was developing around Amazon Beaming, he asked us whether we thought it was possible for two people to communicate without words. We said, absolutely.

And here is why.

Continue reading The Encounter

Communication is not simply about the transfer of information. You can do that with a cash machine. When we communicate we know that we are communicating, and we know that our partner knows that she is communicating. We have a subjective, conscious experience of communicating. This experience, we hypothesise, predates language.

This is what I would have said in a discussion planned after a performance of The Encounter at the Barbican. Unfortunately I couldn’t be there because I had to have an operation for a detached retina.

What is conscious experience?

When I look out into the audience, I am aware of innumerable faces. I have the subjective experience of seeing many faces. But this is an illusion. I don’t mean that you are all figments of my imagination. I am confident you are all out there, but, even so, some of you at least are figments of my imagination.

The problem is that my contact with you all seems so direct, when it is really very slight. The only clues I have about you come from the sparse signals that my eyes and ears are sending to my brain. From these crude signals, and from years of experience, my brain can make quite a good model of what’s out there.

elephantYou will remember the story of the blind men who come across an elephant. One feels its trunk and thinks it is a snake, another feels its leg and thinks it is a tree.

A single sighted man who comes across an elephant is doing the same thing. The elephant is too big to see with a single fixation of the eye. We have to look all over it. If our eye lands on the trunk, then it’s a good bet that it’s a snake. But, then, as the eye moves along it a head or a tail should appear. When this doesn’t happen, then the model has to be changed. It isn’t a snake. Perhaps it’s an elephant. The more evidence our eyes take in the more plausible it becomes that the thing is an elephant. Our eyes move very fast (4 to 8 fixations per second). Within a few 100 msecs we see the elephant. We are entirely unaware of all the work our brain has done and, of course, what we are seeing is not the elephant, but the model that our brain has constructed. This model is often incomplete with several missing bits that are filled in with guesses. This is why some of you are figments of my imagination. There is a well known youtube video, showing that a gorilla can walk by some basketball players without being noticed, if you are too busy counting the basketball passes.

But what is the point of all this vivid subjective experience?

HuxleyCapTH Huxley believed that our conscious experience has no function: ’Consciousness [is]completely without any power of modifying the working [of the body] as the steam-whistle which accompanies the work of a locomotive engine is without influence upon its machinery.’ I believe that Huxley was wrong and we can see this from the metaphor he chose. This is because the steam-whistle does influence the behaviour of other engines.

Our conscious experience is very vivid, but also very private. There is no way I can have your experiences. It even is possible that the colour experience that I call red is actually the one you would call green if you were to experience it. How could we ever know? But there is a paradox here. Our conscious experience may be private, but it is also the only aspect of our mental life that we can share with others. I can’t tell you anything about what my brain is doing. And I certainly can’t tell you about all those mental processes that never reach my consciousness.

enginesCap

 

What I can tell you about is my model of the world. And, at the same time, you can be telling me about your model of the world. So if we are like steam locomotives, we are certainly hearing each other’s whistles.

 

 

 

Conscious experience is for interacting

And, because we are sharing the same world and because we also have very similar brains, our models are also likely to be very similar. But they will not be entirely similar. Our models will also depend on all our past experiences including our interactions with others. Our models of the world will be strongly influenced by our cultural background.

But what happens when two people interact? Interacting with another person is different from interacting with a rock. Unlike a rock, the person I am interacting with is creating a model of me at the same time as I am making a model of her. The model I create of you helps me to predict what you are going to do, which also helps me to communicate with you. My model of you will have many different aspects. I will try to discover what sort of person you are. But in my view the most important aspect of you that I am trying to model, is your model of the world. That is the model of the world we are currently sharing.

brainsBecause we are sharing the same world, any differences in our models will reflect our different experiences and cultural backgrounds. So, when I know something about your model, I know something about you. But, if I need to communicate with you, then I should try to make my model similar to yours. And, at the same time, you will be trying to make your model similar to mine. Some believe that, if two devices interact while making inferences about each other, then they will eventually converge on the same model.

Language is extremely useful for discovering something about other peoples’ models of the world, but it is not the only way. Simply by watching how someone moves you can learn about how they see and understand the world about them. The more you spend time with someone else, the better you will get at predicting how they are going to move. You won’t know how you do it. It just happens.

To make this prediction you have learned about their model of the world and, inevitably, this has changed your own model. At some point the two models will be in almost perfect synchrony. At this point you will have the conscious experience of what seems like, and, indeed is, wordless communication.

Confidence

Our Danish friend, Dan Bang , is just finishing his DPhil on Confidence.

If you type confidence into Google you will get millions of hits, mostly about self-confidence. You are told that, for a small fee, self-confidence can be learned and will enable you to influence people and earn more money.

This is not the kind of confidence that Dan is interested in.

no-spiral

I associate confidence with psychophysics experiments. You make people look at an endless series of pictures in which there may or may not be moving dots. You ask them, ‘Were the dots moving?’ and then ‘How confident are you that they were moving?’ These experiments are so boring that the only people prepared to take part are the authors of the paper.

CDF: So why is confidence so interesting? Continue reading Confidence

DB: On the one hand, confidence is an objective quantity. We can link confidence to behaviour or real-world events. We can ask, when people are more confident, are they also more likely to give the correct answer? We call this resolution (or metacognitive sensitivity). The more people’s low and high confidence discriminates between their incorrect and correct answers, the higher the resolution.

On the other hand, confidence is also a subjective quantity. You and I might have different ideas about what it means to be “not so sure” – does it mean that the probability that we are correct is 25% or 50%? We call this calibration (or metacognitive bias). So even if our confidence has the same resolution, I might express myself more cautiously than you do. Our low and high confidence need not fall within the same range. I might say “not so sure” when thinking that there is a 75% probability that I am correct. But you might have no problem saying “absolutely certain”.

DBsureFor me, confidence is interesting because, with carefully controlled experiments, we can quantify how people communicate their inner states, and we can ask whether the way in which they communicate this information changes with the social context.

CDF: So it may be interesting for you, but aren’t the experiments still boring?

DB: People don’t get bored doing my experiments. They work together in pairs and discuss what they have seen. We often think that confidence is a private experience, but in my experiments people talk to each other about how confident they feel.

CDF: Why would they talk about their confidence?

DB: If they disagree about what they have seen, they have to decide who is right. A good rule of thumb is that the more confident person is also more likely to be right. Two people working together can do better than the best person working alone, and the more they talk about confidence the greater the advantage for the pair. Simply by going with the more confident person after each presentation you can get an advantage.

CDF: How can people predict whether they are going to be right or not? This is very mysterious to me. Where does the information come from?

DB: There are a lot of different theories. Some think that our confidence directly reflects the reliability or strength of the information upon which our decisions are based. In my tasks, this information could be sampled from memory or through the senses. In general, the more reliable this information is, the more likely we are to be correct. Others don’t think we have such direct, privileged access to our inner workings. Instead, we infer our confidence.

One way to do this is to monitor the speed with which we reach our decisions. In most situations, decisions that we make quickly are more likely to be right, and fast responses tend to be associated with greater confidence. Observers are quite good at judging other people’s confidence by watching their movements. However, in one of our studies, we showed that simply going with the faster person is not as good as going with the more confident one. So, confidence seems to carry a lot of useful information.

CDF: I guess you mean that confidence is a marker of competence and speed is another marker. We would certainly want to take advice from competent people. But can’t this easily go wrong? Over-confident people think they are giving good advice when they are not. Working with an over-confident person could be disastrous.

DB: Even an over-confident person will be more confident when s/he is right and less confident when s/he is wrong. S/he can be accurate about their confidence (resolution), but have a bias to exaggerate it (calibration). If we want to work successfully with each other we need to calibrate the way we report our confidence to one another. When I say that I am very confident it has to mean the same as when you say you’re very confident.

CDF: You mean that I have to make sure that my subjective experience of confidence corresponds to your subjective experience of confidence. How is this possible? It’s like asking whether my experience of red is the same as your experience of red.

ConfCorrDB: Actually there’s a quick and dirty way of doing it, so to say, which works most of the time. People usually use words, but you can ask them to use numbers from 1 to 6 to indicate their confidence. An under-confident person might mostly use the numbers 1 to 4, while an over-confident person mostly uses the numbers 4 to 6. It ‘s fairly obvious that they are using the scale in a different way. I have found that people align their use of such confidence scales so that they have the same average confidence rating across the experiment. This might not necessarily be the middle of the scale. So, some people might both use the scale in an “under-confident” way, while others might both use it in an “over-confident” way. There are very few mismatches.

Confidence is a subjective experience, but there are still common features that people can agree on. The two ends of the scale might be fixed at guessing and certain. It is obviously more difficult to have agreement about the middle of the scale, but people can still agree on the order of their levels of confidence.

CDF: That’s very interesting. If you used a 3-point scale of confidence, it would be difficult to be sure if we both meant the same thing with a rating of 2, but the more items in the scale the less the problem will be. In an earlier study, your colleagues showed how each pair developed their own verbal descriptions of confidence – sure, almost sure, a little sure, not quite sure, &c. I was very surprised that the mean number of levels for these spontaneously developed scales was about 18. I was surprised because we all learned, as students, that the optimum number for a scale was 7±2. But, of course, the more levels we have, the less the problem of equating subjective experience.

DB: Yes, we actually find that, if you give people a continuous scale (e.g., 1 to 6 in steps of .000001) instead of a discrete one (e.g., 1 to 6 in steps of 1), then they perform better. The problem of agreeing on what exactly each level means disappears.

alignmentCDF: I am very interested in alignment. It seems to be a critical feature of joint action. The Mirror Neuron story is all about alignment. We automatically align our motor movements and our perception of the world. What you are telling me about confidence seems to be an example of automatic, subjective alignment.

DB: That’s much too speculative for me.

CDF: You called this strategy a quick and dirty method. Does this mean it sometimes goes wrong?

DB: Yes, the strategy only works when the people in the group have equal competence. If they have different levels of competence, they should not try to match their confidence. The more competent person should be consistently more confident than the less competent. Otherwise the pair will take the advice of the less competent person too often.

CDF: But presumably we can notice when someone is more or less competent? Could we do this first and then adjust the way we talk about our confidence?

DB: Actually this seems to be more difficult than you might think. We just published a study showing that people take too much advice from an incompetent partner (and take too little advice from a competent partner). This is not a problem of not being able to work out that the partner is less competent (or more competent). It happened even when they had explicit feedback about their relative competence. People seem to forget this information in the situation.

CDF: But you were using Danish students and every one knows how modest and trusting they are.

DB: That can’t be the explanation. We observed just the same behaviour in Iran where people are supposed to be less trusting of each other.

CDF: I wonder why there should be this universal equality bias, when it reduces successful group decisions?

DB: Perhaps people are more interested in smooth social interactions than in accurate decisions?

CDF: That’s too speculative for me.

What’s so good about being rational?

We are still planning THE BOOK, but we always turn to ideas for the graphic novel first and are constantly distracted by the wonderful artists that we are inspired by. That is, if we are not distracted by cooking and eating.

CDF (neatly cutting celery, chilli and chives):

The trolley problem has to feature.

choppingboardIt is not only visually striking but it will be useful to illustrate some facts about the notorious clash between emotion and reason in our social minds.

UF: Isn’t it strangely related to that other clash we are always struggling with? Between our egotistical and prosocial motives. Are we more rational when we are being prosocial?

Continue reading What’s so good about being rational?

So to recap: An out-of-control trolley is speeding down the line towards 5 railway workers who will all be killed. You can save them by diverting the trolley down a branch line, but this will result in one person being killed. Should you divert the trolley?

Most people answer, Yes. It’s the rational, utilitarian answer, and also pro-social, since it avoids killing 5 people.

CDF sharpens his knife with the consequence of such excruciating noise that UF has to temporarily leave the kitchen. When she returns, Chris is flattening a tiny chicken that’s almost split in half, and rubs it with herbs.

You can make a slight change of wording of the trolley problem: You can save the 5 workers by pushing the large man, standing next to you, onto the track, thus stopping the trolley, but also killing the large man. Should you push the large man?

Now, most people answer, No.

UF: So, what is going on?

CDF (carefully placing a layer of cut Brussels sprouts into butter foaming in a small heavy saucepan): Fortunately, there’s a brain imaging study to help us out. Volunteers in the scanner were asked to reflect on the suggestion that they should push the large man onto the track. They showed much higher activity in ‘emotional areas’ of the brain. It seems, if you don’t reflect you can more readily make the utilitarian choice – ‘utilitarian’ meaning ‘for the greater good’. Just do the arithmetic: the lives of 5 people add up to more than the life of 1. However, the emotional response to the thought of pushing a person onto the track is hard to ignore. It interferes with processes by which we might reach a utilitarian decision.

UF (turning up the gas flame while stirring vanilla custard): The emotions are brought to a boil by the extreme nature of the decision you have to make. They tell you that you can’t kill the large person next to you. But they also make you forget the five others. What happens if the outcome of the decision is less fraught?

CDF: There is the ultimatum game: Bob is given a pot of money to share with Liz. Bob offers a proportion to Liz. If Liz accepts, then both can keep their share. If Liz rejects the offer, then neither gets any money. The rational decision for Liz is to accept anything, since some money is better than none.

UF: In practice, Liz will get angry and reject offers when she feels they are insultingly low.

CDF: Rejection happens if Bob offers less than about a third of the pot. And now if you could get out of my way…

UF (taking her custard to the side and getting out sherry to dribble on some sponge fingers in dessert glasses): Just a moment…

CDF (drying his hands): Once again brain imaging comes to our rescue. As you suspected, rejection of offers is associated with activity in emotional regions of the brain.

UF: Even with these more trivial decisions, emotion is the enemy of reason. But wait, it’s not necessarily an irrational action. If we ignored emotion then we wouldn’t know what is good or bad for us. We make decisions by choosing the good and avoiding the bad. What is so good about being rational?

CDF (putting the chicken now covered in herbs into the oven): Talking of frontal lobes – the origin of reason in the brain: When the frontal lobes are damaged, decisions should become less rational.

UF (pouring the vanilla custard over morello cherries in the desert glasses): Don’t they?

CDF: When people with damage to prefrontal cortex play the ultimatum game they do become more irrational in their responses. They are strongly inclined to reject poor offers. But, here’s the rub: when they are presented with moral dilemmas, they select the more utilitarian scenarios, and they act more rationally than people with intact frontal lobes.

UF (sprinkling almond flakes on top of the custard): Well that’s a bit difficult to explain. How can frontal lobe damage cause people to be less rational in one situation and more rational in another?

CDF (opening a bottle of St Aubin, 2009): First, there’s a problem with the trolley problem: What people say they would do doesn’t necessarily relate to what they would actually do! In the ultimatum game people have to make real choices. But, as typically presented, the trolley problem is hypothetical.

UF: Let’s sit down and see what this wine tastes like.

CDF: And I can tell you about one problem with the trolley problem. It’s hypothetical.

The trolley problem in real life

 Attempts to explore the trolley problem in real life have proved controversial.

trolley1The latest activity from lawmakers comes just two weeks after a Senate bill introducing new trolley safety regulations died in committee. The bill encountered stiff opposition from industry lobby groups such as the National Railroad Association. “Trolleys don’t kill people,” said NRA spokesman Lane Stone, “moral philosophers kill people.”

(taken from here and here)

UF: (laying cutlery and large white napkins on the table): Didn’t our friend, Dean Mobbs compare hypothetical dilemmas with the same problem in real life?

CDF (opening the oven and springing away as his glasses get steamed up): Yes. This is the Pain vs Gain paradigm, which you can study in the lab. Participants get a pot of money and can either use this to prevent a companion from receiving painful electric shocks or keep the money for themselves.

UF: Surely, it’s clear what to do: You use all the money to prevent the shock to the companion.

CDF: Well, yes. In the hypothetical scenario 93% of the people said that’s what they’d do. But in real life this didn’t happen. All the participants kept some of the money for themselves, and all their companions suffered some shocks.

UF: So what trick are the emotions playing here? Where is our deeply prosocial nature; our predisposition to help others?

CDF serving up the chicken by cutting it neatly in half: People felt just that little bit more emotionally attached to their own benefit.

UF: Ah, this chicken is delicious. And it goes amazingly well with the blackened sprouts.

CDF: This version of cooking sprouts makes them almost edible.

UF: Lets face it. We are all moral hypocrites. We do things even though we say we wouldn’t. It’s tough following one’s moral principles.

CDF pouring more wine: Actually it’s also tough being a moral hypocrite. We have to justify our behaviour when we don’t follow our moral principles. One of the people in the Pain vs Gain experiment said, “I struggled with what to do. I wanted the money but I didn’t want to hurt him. I decided that he could take a little pain and I could make a little money.” We can always come up with hypocritical justifications.

UF (feeling benevolent after having been indulged in her inexplicable liking for sprouts): Sadly, looking after “Number One” often gets in the way of looking after your nearest and dearest others, let alone the greatest number of people.

Utilitarian judgements and the greater good

CDF: This brings us to the study by Guy Kahane at the Oxford Centre for Neuroethics.

UF (clearing the dishes away): I remember you saying what an excellent paper it was.

CDF: Yes indeed. Kahane and colleagues have explored what we have been talking about. They asked what kind of person endorses the utilitarian decision to kill the fat man next to him to save five lives. Was this a fine person thinking of the greater good? Not a bit of it. They found that this person is also likely to endorse behaviours such as tax evasion, doesn’t give money to charity and feels less of an identity with the group. This is a rational egotist.

UF: This brings me back to Liz rejecting low offers in the ultimatum game. She may actually have done a noble act serving the greater good. Maybe Bob will be taught a lesson and behave more fairly in the future.

CDF: Yes, people who reject low offers, are typically prosocial in other situations. Here being prosocial is linked to behaving irrationally, just as in Kahane’s study being egotistical is linked to behaving rationally.

UF (fetching the dessert glasses): I am interested in how the emotions feature in both types of people. Presumably emotions can be self-oriented or other-oriented.

CDF: I am interested in how making a rational choice doesn’t mean concern for the greater good. Rational means I can justify my behaviour to myself and to others, by showing that I have made the best choice.

CDF: This trifle is not bad. To continue: Being rational is about winning arguments, not about being good. The non-egotistical choice can also be considered rational, but it is a bit harder to justify to yourself: you have to believe that you or your friends will benefit later on. This is probably best in the long run, while the egotistical choice seems best in the short run.

What’s so good about being utilitarian?

UF: So, utilitarian judgments are just what we need when it comes to justifying our behaviour. Obviously it is better to save 5 at the expense of 1.

CDF: But emotional involvement is difficult to keep away. Consider the original dilemma proposed by William Godwin. If only one person can be saved from the fire, should we save Archbishop Fenelon or the chambermaid? Godwin –clearly ignoring the emotional component – concluded that we should save the Archbishop since he would contribute more to the greater good.

This is a utilitarian judgment, but is it a good judgment? Unfortunately all sorts of terrible things have been justified on the basis that the life of one kind of person is more valuable than the life of another kind of person. Here our strong emotional inhibitions may prevent us from entering into a nightmare scenario. I would not like to live in a society where less valuable people were routinely sacrificed for the greater good.

UF: Unfortunately people can get trapped in nightmare scenarios. Hurricane Katrina created Godwin’s dilemma in real life. Sheri Fink wrote about the terrible story of Memorial Hospital in New Orleans, when hospital staff were confronted with the need to evacuate the patients under most difficult circumstances. Imagine being surrounded by five feet of water, with no electricity, little in the way of food and medical supplies and temperatures indoors of 400C. And seven patients had died while being moved. Which patients should be given priority in the evacuation? The sickest and most vulnerable? Or should they be left behind, since they have ‘the least to lose’? The consequence of making the latter choice was arrest for second degree murder. Interestingly, amidst great public controversy, the case was rejected by a grand jury. They recognised the impossible dilemma that the staff faced.

CDF: I don’t know what decision I would make in such terrible circumstances, but I know I would want my rational attempts at self-justification to be tempered by emotion.

Trust and regret – guardians of our decisions. What can go wrong?

Vaccination has been in the news again. Amongst others, science writer Virginia Hughes has given thoughtful comments on why ordinary people mistrust scientists on this issue.

I take this as a lesson in how science communication and public engagement can go wrong. As a scientist I feel hurt not to be trusted. As a mother I can imagine what it’s like when you are told you should vaccinate your child. I have been there and I have learned from the episode when the use of the triple MMR vaccine was blamed for the increase in autism, when Andrew Wakefield was celebrated as a hero speaking out for parents. The pharma industry, government and scientists were all accused of bias. What basic cognitive processes are involved in the way we make the decision to vaccinate or not to vaccinate? How can these processes undermine scientifically based advice?science-megaphone-300x226 Continue reading Trust and regret – guardians of our decisions. What can go wrong?

Why doesn’t rational explanation as provided by scientific evidence speak for itself? Here’s where our social minds play tricks with us. We basically prefer the inaccurate message given out by a trusted person over the accurate message given by a possibly untrustworthy person. But perhaps these are not tricks. Although it pains me to say this, trust can be more important than scientific truth. Here’s why. Evolution has endowed social creatures, including human beings, with the predisposition to cooperate. And for cooperation to work we need to trust each other. Many animals show reciprocal altruism: ‘I scratch your back and you scratch mine’, and human beings go one step further by showing indirect altruism: ‘I scratch your back, and one of your kin will scratch the back of one of mine. Thus, people help each other without the explicit idea to get something in return, but perhaps with the implicit belief that someone else will give help at another time. Because this belief is unspoken, and because helpers are often anonymous, free riding becomes very tempting. And as we know, if there are too many free riders, trust and cooperation will collapse.

Evolutionary theorists suggest that cycles of cooperation and trust alternate with lack of cooperation and distrust. To reinstate trust both forgiveness and punishment are needed. For instance, if people are prepared to punish free riders, then this eventually reinstates trust in the group. This is called altruistic punishment because it actually costs the person who does the punishment. At the very least, he attracts the dislike of the person he punishes.

Trust weighs heavily in the decision to vaccinate or not. We remember vividly the old family doctor who once mentioned that vaccination was not a good thing. But why is our memory so good for messages that tell us not to vaccinate?

When our social mind makes a choice then trust and the person making a recommendation, are not the only factors. The big players are our emotions. Our brain is particularly responsive to any kind of threat. But even more important may be an emotion known as anticipated regret.

Imagine you are bidding in an auction, and you do not get the item you bid for. You will show disappointment. Now imagine you are told that your bid was only very slightly less than that of the successful buyer. You will show regret. You regret that you did not offer a slightly higher bid. It has been shown that in auctions where the final price is revealed, buyers offer higher bids, than when it is not. This is a sign of anticipated regret. We feel this emotion automatically as a result of internal computations, of which we are not aware. Now it has also been shown that you are more likely to feel regret when you commit an act and something bad happens. You won’t feel so regretful when you omitted to do something. This is the case when you decide not to vaccinate. You didn’t commit something that might turn out to be wrong. You just omitted something.

The MMR story is a story of lack of trust, and a story of the wrong kind of anticipated regret. It is wrong because it disregards the consequences of not vaccinating. Several factors contributed to the lack of trust. To begin with, there may be a predisposition to distrust scientists who are often portrayed as callous and more interested in abstract generalisations rather than the fate of individual people. The decision to vaccinate means you are allowing a temporary hurt to your child, while your overarching inclination is to protect your child from hurt. Why should you allow this hurt, when you have no personal memory of the severity of illnesses such as mumps, measles and rubella. Protecting your child from these almost mythical illnesses seems somehow less pressing than protecting your child from an immediate danger. So, when Dr. Andrew Wakefield, came forward as taking a stand against vaccination, his opinion fell on fertile ground. Further, the possibility that the package of a triple vaccination – a triple injury – might cause a brain disorder, such as autism, seemed plausible.

As so often correlation turned into causation: autism had increased recently; the triple vaccination was introduced recently; ergo, the triple vaccination caused the increase. In the UK the Medical Research Council immediately set up projects designed to answer the question whether indeed there was a causal connection. The answer was no, and the scientific advice was that the triple vaccination is safe.

In spite of this advice, nobody believed it. This was strange and needs further explanation. Why was the trust in Wakefield continuing, when there was at the same time a lack of trust in scientific advice? Here is where the concept of anticipated regret comes in. Parents were ‘playing safe’, or so they thought, by not giving their children a single triple short vaccine. In fact, playing safe was an act of omission, and this is less linked to regret than commission. However, if you choose not to vaccinate your child, then you are a free rider, because the protection remains as long as everyone else (or the vast majority) does vaccinate their child. In order to be effective 90% of the population has to be vaccinated. Many middle class people thought they were justified in becoming free riders for the sake of their child. In consequence there have been outbreaks of measles.

Here is the gist of an interview that illustrates the role of anticipated regret in the MMR story. Interviewer: “Would you let your child get the controversial MMR vaccine?” Father: “Certainly not. If I let my child get the MMR vaccine and he later becomes autistic, I will never forgive myself.” Interviewer: “What, if your child then contracted the measles and died?” Father: “This would be an act of God. I would be very sad, but not feel guilty.”

We all know the end of the story. Remarkably, the reason that MMR vaccination became acceptable again for parents had nothing to do with the restoration of trust in scientists. Quite the opposite. It became known that Andrew Wakefield had a commercial stake in the development of single vaccines. Now, people who previously believed him to be a brave hero who spoke against powerful lobbies, such as big pharma, lost their trust in him. Another reason in favour of vaccination is the increase in measles, mumps and rubella outbreaks. This reminded people that these diseases are very dangerous. There are still people who firmly believe that their child’s autism was caused by vaccination and nothing will weaken them in this belief. However, our social nature strongly inclines us to do what others do, and to value what others value.

Image credit New Media Science Communication