When I studied Organizational Behavior in grad school with Roberto Fernandez (at left), one of the most important concepts he taught was the Fundamental Attribution Error, which he described as:
Ascribing causality to personal characteristics when causality actually lies with the situation.
This bias, named by Stanford psychologist Lee Ross, leads us to award far more credit (or blame) to individuals for successes (or failures) than they deserve. We see it at work most clearly with high-profile, archetypal leaders--presidents, CEOs, coaches, quarterbacks--who are hailed as geniuses when their organizations accomplish their goals and derided as bums when their organizations stumble.
But the bias is at work in ordinary interactions with our peers and colleagues as well. We view those interactions through a lens that overemphasizes others' personal characteristics and underemphasizes the systems within which we operate. As a result, we tend to ascribe positive characteristics to others when those interactions go well, and we tend to ascribe negative characteristics to others when those interactions are unpleasant.
This isn't to say that people are all the same, and different interpersonal experiences are solely the result of systemic factors. Some people truly are wonderful, and others truly are, well, assholes. But awareness of the fundamental attribution error helps us to expand our frame of reference, to question the accuracy of our perceptions and (as a result) to select interpersonal strategies that are likely to be more effective in future interactions.
I've been thinking about the fundamental attribution error recently in the wake of an unpleasant interaction with another person at work. I came away thinking, "Wow, what an asshole" (and perhaps he did as well.) After further reflection I realized that 1) there were a number of things I could have done differently to improve the outcome, and 2) there were a number of systemic factors at work that affected the other person's response to the situation.
But despite these efforts to hold myself accountable and take a broad-minded view of the other person, it's hard not to wonder whether my initial response was right even it if was biased: Maybe he is an asshole. And this line of thought led me back to The No Asshole Rule, one of the most thought-provoking and entertaining books on organizational life I've ever read, by Bob Sutton (pictured on the right above).
Sutton describes two tests he uses to determine "whether a person is acting like an asshole":
Test One: After talking to the alleged asshole, does the "target" feel oppressed, humiliated, de-energized or belittled by the person? In particular, does the target feel worse about him or herself?
Test Two: Does the alleged asshole aim his or her venom at people who are less powerful rather than at those people who are more powerful?
By these measures, my counterpart qualifies. But Sutton goes on to make an important distinction between "temporary" assholes and "certified" ones:
Nearly all of us act like assholes at times... It is far harder to qualify as a certified asshole: a person needs to display a persistent pattern, to have a history of episodes that end with one "target" after another feeling belittled, put down, humiliated, disrespected, oppressed, de-energized and generally worse about themselves. Psychologists make the distinction between states (fleeting feelings, thoughts and actions) and traits (enduring personality characteristics) by looking for consistency across places and times--if someone consistently takes actions that leave a trail of victims in their wake, they deserve to be called certified assholes.
And I just don't have enough data to draw a meaningful conclusion in this case. Maybe the systemic factors I'm aware of are even more influential than I realize. Maybe there are other factors I'm not aware of at all. Maybe my own missteps are to blame. Maybe he's a great guy, and I just caught him on a bad day.
It hasn't been a pleasant experience, but it has been instructive. Reflecting on what I learned from Roberto Fernandez a decade ago, I'm inspired to look beyond my gut-level response and take a larger view of the situation, give the other person the benefit of the doubt, inquire into my own culpability and see the ways in which systemic factors shape our responses to others. And reflecting on what I've learned from Bob Sutton, I realize that an awareness of the fundamental attribution error doesn't mean that my intuitive response is wrong--it may well be right, but only time and more data will tell.
At the very least, I've learned some valuable lessons about myself and my work environment, I have a heightened awareness of issues I should be paying closer attention to, and I'm better prepared to handle future situations like this one. Hey, no one said experiential learning was always going to be fun and games.
