Being Wrong by Kathryn Schultz begins with some very good, and intriguing, questions. Why is it so fun to be right? Why do we say that we value humility and openness, yet argue so tenaciously that we have the right answers? If, as we say, “To err is human,” why do we go to such great lengths to avoid being perceived, even by ourselves, to have made a mistake? Why is it so difficult to say, “I was wrong?”
Being Wrong is an excellent place to set out to understand those questions, to begin the pursuit of “wrongology.” It is full of humor and good nature. It also introduces an amazing cast of characters, including John Ross, who, in 1818, determined that Lancaster Sound was blocked by mountains which were an arctic mirage; Hannah, a forty-six-year-old stroke survivor who did not know that she was blind; the followers of William Miller, a preacher who discerned that the world would end on October 22, 1844; and Penny Beerntsen and Steven Avery, whose lives became connected through an eye-witness misidentification.
Some of the people with whom I work have very personal and intimate struggles with right and wrong. They believe that they are responsible for having the right answer, no matter what the question. They hold fast to the perception that they were right, in the face of very strong evidence that they may have made mistakes. They are personally invested in beliefs that do not appear to stand up to close scrutiny. Their understanding of themselves, their families, their work, and their faith can be deeply shaken by the idea that they may have been wrong about an aspect of their lives.
Being Wrong helps me understand why I can be so committed to being right about things I do not know, or even care, very much about. In addition, it is reassuring, confirming that we learn by doing, that we grow, that we gain from our mistakes. There is value in being wrong; each time we take a step, we become more experienced at walking.