One of Phillips’s largest studies investigated whether date of birth influenced date of death.
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Analyzing almost 3 million California death certificates between 1969 and 1990, Phillips reported that a woman is more likely to die during the week after her birthday than at any other time of the year. In contrast, a man is more likely to die during the week
before
his birthday. Phillips argued that this may be because women look forward to birthdays as times of celebration, whereas men are more likely to use birthdays to take stock of their lives; in doing so, they realize how little they have achieved in life, become stressed, and therefore increase their chances of dying. According to Phillips, these findings are not a result of seasonal fluctuations, of people misreporting the information on their relatives’ death certificates, of putting off life-threatening surgery, or of committing suicide. Instead, he argues that the data supports the notion that some people are capable of “willing” themselves to live longer, or of cutting short their lives.
The idea is highly controversial, and it has attracted a great deal of debate.
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Some researchers have been able to replicate the types of patterns found by Phillips and his team; others have failed to find such results or have attacked the methods used to conduct the work. Nevertheless, the idea that psychological factors influence physical well-being is supported by work showing a relationship between people’s optimism and their health. For instance, in 1996, a team of researchers investigated the link between healthy thinking and longevity among 2,000 Finnish men. The team classified participants into three groups: a “pessimistic” group, whose members expected the future to be bleak; an “optimistic” group, whose members had much higher expectations about the future; and a “neutral” group, whose members held expectations that were neither especially positive nor especially negative. They then monitored the groups over six years and found that the men in the “pessimistic” group were far more likely to die from cancer, cardiovascular disease, and accidents than those in the “neutral” group. In contrast, those in the “optimistic” group exhibited a far lower mortality rate than those in the other two groups.
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Phillips is not the only researcher to investigate the strange factors that may influence the precise moment people meet the grim reaper. A paper published in the
Review of Economics and Statistics
in 2003 explored whether tax liability influenced a person’s date of death,
39
combining Phillips’s groundbreaking approach to death with the possibility that parents might manipulate their children’s birth dates to obtain tax incentives. In this paper, Wojciech Kopczuk, from the University of British Columbia, and Joel Slemrod, from the University of Michigan, wondered whether people might die at a moment that is financially most beneficial to those left behind.
To discover whether this was the case, they analyzed the pattern in reported deaths around the time of significant changes to the U.S. tax system. There had been thirteen major changes to the tax laws since the introduction of the tax system in 1916, eight of them resulting in increases in the rate of tax and five resulting in decreases. The changes came into effect approximately a week after they were announced in the media. Analyzing the reported number of deaths in the two weeks before and after each change, the researchers found evidence of an
increase
in the death rate just
before
a rise in the tax rate came into effect, and a
decrease
in the death rate just
after
a drop in the tax rate. This suggests, as indicated in the title of their paper, that some people may indeed be “Dying to Save Taxes.”
This is not, however, the only interpretation of their data. Deaths are often reported by relatives who are likely to inherit the deceased’s estate, and thus have a vested interest in reducing their tax liability. Consequently, the effect may be evidence that people have misreported the day their wealthy loved one actually died or, in the worst-case scenario, was murdered.
2
TRUST EVERYONE, BUT ALWAYS CUT THE CARDS
The Psychology of Lying and Deception
W
hen I was eight years old, I saw something that changed my life.
My grandfather handed me a marker pen and asked me to write my initials on a coin. He carefully placed the coin on his palm and closed his hand. After gently blowing on his fingers, he opened his hand. The coin had mysteriously vanished. Next, he reached into his pocket and took out a small tin box that was sealed with several rubber bands. My grandfather handed me this strange-looking package and asked me to remove the bands and open the box. The box contained a small red-velvet bag. I carefully removed it, peeked inside, and couldn’t believe my eyes. The bag contained the initialled coin.
My grandfather’s magic trick spawned a fascination with conjuring that has lasted all my life. In my teens, I became one of the youngest members of a world-famous magic club, The Magic Circle. In my twenties, I worked as a professional magician, performing card tricks at some of London’s most fashionable West End restaurants. Once in a while, I even made an initialled coin disappear and reappear in a little cloth bag sealed in a small tin box. Deceiving people twice a night sparked a strong sense of curiosity about why people are fooled. That interest was the catalyst for a psychology degree and, some twenty years later, I still haven’t shaken my fascination with the psychology of deception.
Over the years, I have investigated the telltale signs that give away a liar, examined how fake smiles differ from genuine grins, and discovered how people can be fooled into believing that they have experienced events that didn’t actually happen. I have unraveled the truth about deception.
We begin our journey into the shady world of skullduggery by examining an unusual body of work concerned with the evolutionary origins of deceit. It is a strange story involving a group of trunk-swinging elephants, talking apes, and children taking prohibited peeks at their favorite toys.
JUMBO DECEPTION, TALKING APES, AND LYING CHILDREN
A few years ago, the animal researcher Maxine Morris spotted some curious behavior while observing a group of Asian elephants at Washington Park Zoo in Indiana.
1
At feeding time, each elephant was given a big bundle of hay. Morris noticed that a couple of the elephants tended to eat their own hay quickly, sidle up to their slower-eating companions, and then start swinging their trunks from side to side in a seemingly aimless way. To the uninformed, it appeared that these elephants were just passing the time of day. However, Morris’s repeated observations suggested that this apparently innocent behavior masked a duplicitous intent. Once the trunk-swinging elephants were sufficiently close to another elephant, they would suddenly grab some of the uneaten hay and quickly gobble it up. Elephants are notoriously nearsighted, and so the slow-eating elephants were often completely unaware of the theft.
It is tempting to view these “trunk-swinging—hay-stealing” episodes as evidence of a carefully planned and executed deception. A kind of jumbo version of
Ocean’s Eleven.
But that may be little more than wishful thinking. In the same way that we talk to our computers and cars as if they were people, so we have a tendency to humanize the behavior of our four-legged friends. The seemingly deceitful elephants may simply have carried out the “trunk-swinging—hay-stealing” combination once by chance, found that they liked the resulting excess of hay, and repeated the pattern without really thinking about it. The only way to know for certain would be to discover what was actually going on inside an elephant’s head. The bad news is that elephants are in no position to describe their innermost thoughts and feelings. The good news is that some researchers believe that this type of research has been successful not with elephants but with one of our closest evolutionary ancestors.
In the 1970s, talking gorillas were all the rage. As part of a large-scale research program exploring interspecies communication, Francine Patterson, a developmental psychologist from Stanford University, attempted to teach two lowland gorillas called Michael and Koko a simplified version of American Sign Language.
2
According to Patterson, the great apes were capable of holding meaningful conversations and could even reflect upon profound topics, such as love and death. Many aspects of the gorillas’ inner lives appeared remarkably similar to our own. Michael, for instance, liked watching
Sesame Street;
Koko preferred
Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.
In 1998, Koko made a guest appearance on her favorite show, helping teach children that “there is more to a person than what you see on the outside.” Michael likes painting and has produced many artworks, including self-portraits and several still-life representations. His work has proved remarkably popular with humans and has been shown at various exhibitions.
Koko is also no stranger to public attention. She has appeared in several films, and was the inspiration behind Amy, the talking ape in Michael Crichton’s best-seller
Congo.
Koko also features in a promotional video on her Web site (using her communicative skills to appeal for donations) and, in 1998, took part in the first interspecies Web chat. The opening lines of the conversation between the interviewer, Koko, and Patterson illustrate some of the difficulties associated with trying to understand gorilla small talk:
3
Interviewer: I’ll start taking questions from the audience now, our first question is: “Koko, are you going to have a baby in the future?”
Koko: Pink.
Patterson: We’ve had earlier discussion about colors today.
Koko: Listen, Koko loves eat.
Interviewer: Me too!
Patterson: What about a baby? She’s thinking . . .
Koko:
(Unattention)
Patterson: She covered her face with her hands . . . which means it’s not happening, basically, or it hasn’t happened yet.
Despite difficulties, Michael and Koko’s trainers believe they have uncovered instances wherein their two hairy colleagues were a tad economical with the truth.
4
In one example, Koko broke a toy cat and then signed to indicate that the breakage had been caused by one of her trainers. In another episode, Michael ripped a jacket belonging to a trainer and, when asked who was responsible for the incident, signed “Koko.” When the trainer expressed skepticism about his answer, Michael appeared to change his mind and indicated that Patterson was actually to blame. When the trainer pressed the issue again, Michael finally looked sheepish (which isn’t easy for a gorilla) and then confessed all. Whereas the instances of alleged deception among elephants were based purely upon observation, the apes’ apparent linguistic skills seem to provide much more compelling evidence of intentional deceit.
The possibility of talking and lying apes has generated fierce debate among researchers. Proponents claim that Michael and Koko are clearly able to express their innermost thoughts and emotions, and that the behavior portrayed during the “Who ripped the jacket?”/“It was her” episodes are clear evidence of deception. In response, critics argue that the trainers are too eager to read meaning into the gorillas’ random actions, and that when it comes to lying the great apes might simply be repeating behaviors that had got them out of trouble before. As with the hay-stealing elephants, it is almost impossible to know for certain.
Because of the difficulties of trying to decide whether elephants and gorillas really are capable of lying, other researchers have explored the development of deception in the next best thing: children. Some of the most interesting studies of children who cheat have involved asking youngsters not to take a peek at their favorite toys.
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During these experiments a child is led into a laboratory and asked to face one of the walls. The experimenter then explains that he is going to set up an elaborate toy a few feet behind the child. After setting up the toy, the experimenter explains that he has to leave the laboratory and asks the child
not
to turn around and peek at the toy. The child is secretly filmed by hidden cameras for a few minutes, and then the experimenter returns and asks the child whether he or she peeked. Almost all three-year-olds do, and then half of them lie about it to the experimenter. By the time the children have reached the age of five, all of them peek and all of them lie. The results provide compelling evidence that lying starts to emerge the moment we learn to speak. Perhaps surprisingly, when parents watch the films of their children denying that they peeked at the toy, they are unable to detect whether their darling offspring are lying or telling the truth.
Adhering to the old theatrical adage of never working with children or animals, my own research into lying has focused on adult deceit.