October 16, 2007
Findings
Facts Prove No Match for Gossip, It Seems
By JOHN TIERNEY
Until now, I was firmly pro-gossip. I welcomed the theory that
gossip was the reason language developed. I cheered on researchers who believed
gossip was the great evolutionary leap that enabled human apes to live
peacefully in large groups, develop moral codes, build civilizations and,
eventually, sell supermarket tabloids.
But now I wonder if weÕve leaped too far, and itÕs not because
IÕve been watching ÒGossip Girl.Ó In a paper on gossip published yesterday,
evolutionary biologists in Germany and Austria have identified a vulnerability
that might be called the Chico Marx Paradox, for reasons that will be clear
once you hear about this experiment.
The researchers set out to test the power of gossip, which has
been exalted by theorists in recent decades. Language, according to the
anthropologist Robin Dunbar, evolved because gossip is a more efficient version
of the Òsocial groomingÓ essential for animals to live in groups.
Apes and other creatures solidify their social bonds by cleaning
and stroking one another, but the size of the group is limited because thereÕs
not enough time in the day to groom a large number of animals.
Speech enabled humans to bond with lots of people while going
about their hunting and gathering. Instead of spending hours untangling hair,
they could bond with friendly conversation (ÒYour hair looks so unmatted
today!Ó) or by picking apart someone elseÕs behavior (ÒYeah, he was supposed to
share the wildebeest, but I heard he kept both haunchesÓ).
Gossip also told people whom to trust, and the prospect of a bad
reputation discouraged them from acting selfishly, so large groups could
peacefully cooperate. At least, that was the theory: gossip promoted the
Òindirect reciprocityÓ that made human society possible.
To test it, researchers at the Max Planck Institute for
Evolutionary Biology and the University of Vienna gave 10 Euros apiece to 126
students and had them play a game that put them in a dilemma. On each turn, the
players would be paired off, and one of them was offered a chance to give 1.25
Euros to the other. If he agreed, the researchers added a bonus of .75 Euro so
that the recipient ended up gaining 2 Euros.
If the first player refused to give the money, heÕd save 1.25
Euros, but if others found out about his miserliness they might later withhold
money from him. As the game progressed, with the players changing partners
frequently and alternating between the donor and recipient roles, the players
were given information about their partnersÕ past decisions.
Sometimes the donor was shown a record of what the partner had
done previously while playing the donor role. The more generous this partner
had earlier been toward other players, the more likely the donor was to give
him something.
Sometimes the donor was shown gossip about the partner from
another player. When the partner was paid a compliment like Òspendabler
spieler!Ó — generous player! — the donor was more likely to give
money. But the donor turned stingy when he saw gossip like ÒŸbler geizkragenÓ
— nasty miser.
So far, so good. As predicted, gossip promoted indirect
reciprocity. The research, published in the Proceedings of the National Academy
of Sciences, showed that most people passed on accurate gossip and used it for
the common good. They rewarded cooperative behavior even when they themselves
werenÕt directly affected by the behavior.
If a cooperation game like this was played without consequences
for the playersÕ reputations — as has been done in other experiments
— most players would be miserly, and cooperation would collapse. In this
experiment they were generous most of the time, and on average ended up with
twice as much money as they had at the beginning of the game.
But hereÕs the disconcerting news from the experiment. In a couple
of rounds, each donor was given both hard facts and gossip. He was given a
record of how his partner had behaved previously as well as some gossip —
positive gossip in one round, negative in another.
The donor was told that the source of the gossip didnÕt have any
extra information beyond what the donor could already see for himself. Yet the
gossip, whether positive or negative, still had a big influence on the donorsÕ
decisions, and it didnÕt even matter if the source of the gossip had a good
reputation himself. On average, cooperation increased by about 20 percent if
the gossip was good, and fell by 20 percent if the gossip was negative.
Now, you might think the gossip mattered just in borderline cases
— when the partner had a mixed record of generosity, and the donor
welcomed outside guidance in making a tough decision. But the gossip had an
impact in other situations, too. Even when a player saw that his partner had a
record of consistent meanness, he could be swayed by positive gossip to reward
the partner anyway. Or withhold help from a perfectly nice partner just on the
basis of malicious buzz.
This result may come as no shock to fans of ÒGossip Girl,Ó or to
publicists trying to plant items in Page Six about the charitable works of
despicable clients. But it seemed surprising to the researchers, according to
the lead author, Ralf D. Sommerfeld of the Max Planck Institute.
ÒIf you know you already have the full information about someone,Ó
he said, Òrationally you shouldnÕt care so much what someone else says.Ó
So why do we? ÒIt could be,Ó he suggested, Òthat we are just more
adapted to listen to other information than to observe people, because most of
the time weÕre not able to observe how other people are behaving. Thus we might
believe we have missed something.Ó
This makes a certain sense, but I still wonder if evolution has
taken a Chico Marxist turn here. In ÒDuck Soup,Ó Chico tries to pass himself
off as GrouchoÕs character, complete with moustache and cigar, but encounters a
skeptical Margaret Dumont, who protests that she just saw Groucho leave the
room.
ÒWell, who you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?Ó Chico asks.
Now, at last, we know the answer.