The unmistakable tones of Lance Corporal Jones would have been familiar to anyone who grew up with British sitcoms in the 1960s. Jones, a leading character in the series Dad’s Army would shout “Don’t panic! Don’t panic!” while running frenetically in every direction. Jones is an expression of the very human instinct to “do something”, even when there is little idea as to what the something is.
John Authers in last weekend’s FT talks about this “bias towards activity” when reflecting on the right reaction to the turbulence in the stock markets. Falling share prices prompt panic selling and, often, further losses when the most sensible thing to do is to sit tight. Authers quotes a study on this sense that we must “do something”.
An example from football, provided by James Montier of Société Générale, tells the story. When a goalkeeper tries to save a penalty, he almost invariably dives either to the right or the left. He will stay in the centre only 6.3 per cent of the time.
However, the penalty taker is just as likely (28.7 per cent of the time) to blast the ball straight in front of him as to hit it to the right or left. Thus goalkeepers, to play the percentages, should stay where they are about a third of the time. They would make more saves. Why don’t they? Because it is more embarrassing to stand there and watch the ball hit the back of the net than to do something (such as dive to the right) and watch the ball hit the back of the net. The results are the same but those who tried to be active feel happier.
This is universal. In baseball, batters often prefer to go down swinging, even when the percentages suggest their best bet is to leave the bat on their shoulders and see if they can force the pitcher into giving them a walk. Again, it is very embarrassing to strike out with the bat on your shoulder.
The church, or at least the one I work for, is affected by this bias. We feel we must be doing something, that unless we have numerous committees and write worthy reports, then people will think that we don’t care. We feel embarrassed to just stand our ground. Even at parish level, there is a tendency to regard frenetic activity as a sign of strength, when, in most other areas of our lives, frenetic activity is a sign of uncertainty.
Completing a report for General Synod (for one of the few committees that achieves something), I wondered if John Authers piece should be sent to each of our clergy, but sure, they’d be too busy to read it.
I couldn’t agree more. I work with a fellow who is constantly huffing and puffing, shuffling papers and lamenting his workload. Bragging about the 125 churchgoers who he barbecued breakfast for last Sunday. Complaining about how busy his social life is. He even walks with urgency, mouths my words while they’re still escaping from my lips because he’s too busy to wait for the end of the sentence. He drives me insane with his flurry of useless activity. Does he achieve any more than anyone else . . well no of course not but he feels validated for having ‘shown’ everyone how busy he is. Meh!