Three of the Hardest Words to Say

“I was wrong.”  These are not most people’s favorite words.  I include myself in “most people.”  I’d much rather say “I’m sorry,”  “Let’s move on” or “You have a point.”  I’m not alone, I know, in struggling to get these three words out.  That’s true even in saying them to myself about a decision I’ve made or a conclusion contradicted by evidence. 

For politicians, avoiding “I was wrong” is an art form.  We’re more likely to hear:  “I was misquoted.”  “I was kidding.” or “I never said that.”  Politicians would rather “flip-flop” because taking a new position is easier than saying the old one was wrong.  Doubling-down or blaming others is another way politicians and, let’s face it, most of us have used to avoid admitting error.

Studies of political pundits have shown their predictions are no better than chance. Similar results have been found for financial “experts” in the public eye, but you won’t hear them say they were wrong either.  As for conspiracy theorists, they can’t admit error because there’s always another part of the conspiracy to explain the disconnect between facts and their beliefs.  

Why is this so hard?  For starters, think about elementary school.  Did it feel good when the teacher said “that’s right!”? Were you embarrassed when told “that’s wrong”?  Those feelings registered in the amygdala, the brain’s emotional center, and they have staying power. 

Egos are fragile.  We’ll do a lot to preserve our self-concept.  Admitting we’re wrong suggests a loss of the control and mastery that help us contain the uncertainty of living.  Acknowledging error is often seen as weakness in a society that values overconfidence.  We may also dread being showered with blame.    

We may fear social ridicule (the “dunce cap” of adult life), isolation and loss of status among peers.  Research shows that social ostracism triggers the pain centers in our brains.  It literally hurts to be wrong if others then distance themselves from you.  Then again, why admit to being wrong when no one else does?  Who wants to be in the rare minority of those who come clean?

Some of us can’t admit we’re wrong because we’re so confident we’re right.  Sometimes our beliefs carry so much value for us that we can’t give them up, what behavioral economists call the endowment effect.  Another psychological bias, loss aversion, makes us willing to take significant risks rather than give up being right. 

For all of us, rationalization keeps saying “I was wrong” at bay.  Believing one thing and being confronted with contrary information is upsetting, so we explain it away.  This contradiction is what psychologist Leon Festinger labeled cognitive dissonance. 

Admitting we’re wrong also means we should to take responsibility to correct our error.  That should  be seen as a good thing – an upside of the downside of “I was wrong.”  When I admit I’m wrong, I acknowledge being human, and humans have cognitive blind spots.  I thus open myself to learning and change.  I also encourage others to do so, hopefully triggering a contagion of helpful interactions.  Admitting I’m wrong can soften the digging-in that prolongs arguments and relieve others of the emotional baggage that comes from being mad at me. 

Saying “I was wrong” is thus a building block of trusting relationships.  Despite what we may think, there’s some research evidence that people who admit they were wrong are not judged harshly.  Indeed, we might all be better off if our culture celebrated people who acknowledge they were wrong.  Forgiveness rather than blame would be a good step toward a more honest and healthy society.

In December 1970, German Chancellor Willy Brandt visited Warsaw to conclude a treaty acknowledging Poland’s post-war borders.  He included in his itinerary the laying of a wreath at the Warsaw Ghetto Monument, the site where so many Polish Jews had been murdered by the Nazis.  Brandt had fled Germany in 1933 and, in exile, worked against Hitler.  He had done nothing wrong, yet Germany had.  After laying the wreath, he stood there briefly and then in silence dropped to his knees.  That gesture, according to many historians, was an essential step in German’s postwar reconciliation with the world.  His work on healing the wounds of war would lead to the Nobel Peace Prize in 1971.  Reflecting on that moment in Warsaw, Brandt acknowledged that he had not planned this gesture in advance. Yet he knew he must do something: “All I could do was give a sign to ask for forgiveness for my people and pray that we might be forgiven.”  Saying “I was wrong” and, for leaders, “We were wrong” invokes three words with immense power.

Photo Credit: displaced.me