Sure Enough

There is a black coat I wore for most of last winter.

A colleague told me she liked it. I told her I did too. I said I had looked forever for a coat that sat properly at the shoulders. I liked the weight of it. I liked that it kept its shape instead of going soft after a few wears.

This week I was looking for something else in my photos and went past the Christmas party. My friend Elise was in the foreground, laughing at something. I was behind her, wearing a black coat.

The coat in the photograph had no vent at the back. The one in my closet has one. The buttons are different too.

That night the coats had been piled on a bed in the spare room. I took one on my way out and did not look at it twice.

For almost eight months I had believed I owned someone else's coat. I had reasons for liking the weight, the shoulders, the way it held its shape. Reasons that belonged to a purchase I had made, attached to a coat I had not.

What have you explained without checking?

Choice blindness is the failure to notice when the outcome of a choice has been swapped. Stranger still, we can usually explain why we chose the thing we did not choose.

The first version of the experiment used photographs. People were shown two faces and asked which one they found more attractive. They pointed. The chosen photograph was handed over, and they were asked to say why.

Except sometimes, through a simple card trick, the researchers handed them the face they had rejected.

Around three quarters of the swaps went unnoticed.

People still gave reasons. They explained why they preferred a face they had turned down moments earlier. Some even praised features that existed only in the rejected photograph.

***

The same thing happens with choices that seem harder to confuse.

At a supermarket tasting counter, shoppers tried two jams and chose a favourite. Then they tasted it again and explained the choice. Between those steps, the containers were switched.

Fewer than a third of the switches were caught. That held for cinnamon apple against bitter grapefruit, which are not subtle flavours.

Some shoppers were told they could take their chosen jar home. Having to live with the decision did not make them any more likely to catch the switch. And when researchers revealed the trick afterward, fewer than half said they had suspected anything.

Similarity is what governs the effect. In another experiment, people chose between everyday objects using touch alone. When the objects were similar, only about a fifth noticed a swap. When they were obviously different, detection rose to around seventy percent.

Choice blindness works best when either answer could plausibly have been ours.

***

The explanations are the part that unsettles the researchers.

Analysis of what people said found almost no difference between the two kinds of report. Same length. Same confidence, whether the choice was real or handed over by a magician.

And this is not limited to faces and jam.

In one study, people filled out a survey about moral issues. Some of their answers were then reversed before they were asked to explain them.

Sixty-nine percent missed at least one reversal. Some went on to argue for the opposite of what they had written only minutes earlier.

There is still a question about how blind we really are. In a later study, researchers measured pupil size during the switch and found dilation even when participants said nothing. Some part of them may have noticed that something was wrong.

But nobody here was deliberately lying. They were simply asked a question we answer all the time: Why did you choose that?

And a reason came.

There is a sentence you have said about yourself more than once. Something about what you are like, what you want, or what you will never do again.

Try to find the first time you said it out loud. The first time it left your mouth, in front of another person, in words. It may be later than you think. Maybe it was an answer to a question you had never considered before.

That is where a leaning became a position.

And positions are harder to move from. Once you have explained yourself to someone, the explanation is there. You have heard it. They have heard it. The next time the question comes up, you already have an answer.

So there may be value in leaving some things unexplained for a while. You can say you have not decided. You can want something without knowing why yet. Not every preference needs a reason the moment someone asks for one.

And there may be things you have explained so many times that the explanation now feels inseparable from you.

The reason you give for a choice can become the reason you make it again.

What have you said about yourself so often that you no longer remember deciding it?

^{This is a space for exploration and reflection, not medical, psychological, or therapeutic advice. Each reader’s situation is unique and deserves the right kind of support. If you are struggling or in crisis, please contact a licensed mental health professional. This edition contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, we may earn from qualifying purchases at no additional cost to you.}