Pulling an all-nighter won't help with decision-making the morning after. Photo: Thomas Dworzak/Magnum Photos
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Asleep at the wheel: what makes us human is our irrationality

We are drawn to some types of information over others, our past experiences shape our present-day judgements and our emotional and physical states affect the choices we make.

I am 14 years old, sitting in my first economics class. We are taught that we make decisions as rational men, Homo economicus. That we objectively weigh up pros and cons and coolly evaluate information.

Rational men. Hmmm. Not only does economics in one swoop ignore my entire sex, it also assumes that we are robotic, dispassionate creatures.

We are not.

What makes us human is our irrationality – the way we are drawn to some types of information over others, the way our past experiences shape our present-day judgements, the way our emotional and physical states affect the choices we make.

Take colour. It plays a surprisingly signi­ficant role in the way we evaluate situations. Men rate women as more attractive if they see their photographs set against red backgrounds rather than white, grey, blue or green. Waitresses are tipped more when they wear red. Football referees are more likely to give penalties to teams wearing black strips than to those in other colours.

Language – the choice of words, images and metaphors used – also has a huge impact on the judgement calls we make. I may not fall for politicians’ fear-mongering, but beauty companies have at times caught me out. In my bathroom cabinet are products that “correct” dark spots, “fight” ageing and can infuse my eyes with “youth”. Really, though?

And how about the British study which revealed that when two groups of psychiatrists were told the same story of a young man who had attacked a train conductor, the only difference being the attacker’s name, they provided different diagnoses depending on what they believed him to be called? When the psychiatrists thought the attacker was called Matthew, they were more likely to diagnose him with schizophrenia. When they thought he was called Wayne, they were more likely to diagnose him with a drug problem.

Time and time again we are affected by factors of which we are not even aware. Time and time again we behave irrationally. It’s not just the way information is presented to us of which we need to be mindful. We need to be aware, too, of the impact of our physiological and psychological state on the choices we make.

If we’re anxious, we are more risk-averse. Stress makes us prone to tunnel vision, less likely to take in all the information we need. When we’re happy we take more risks, are more trusting, more generous. It’s why a country’s stock market tends to rise off the back of a national team’s win at football. (Not something England needed to worry about this year, sadly.)

If we’re tired, that messes with our decision-making. If you’ve ever pulled an all-nighter you will know the symptoms of sleep deprivation all too well: difficulty concentrating, brain like cotton wool, memory lapses. But did you know that if you go 24 hours without sleep or spend a week sleeping only four or five hours a night, it’s as if you’re making decisions drunk?

Are you the type who skips breakfast? If so you might want to rethink that. Fascinating research in Israel on why judges decided to grant prisoners parole showed that the main determinant wasn’t the applicant’s gender or ethnicity, nor even the type of crime, but whether the judge had recently eaten.

If you went before the judge just before they’d had their mid-morning snack . . . disaster. Zero per cent chance of getting parole. Immediately after that snack: 65 per cent. Just before lunch . . . disaster again. Only a 10 per cent chance of getting parole. Immediately after lunch: 65 per cent.

And if you’re feeling horny, well, you probably want to wait before you make that important call. When Canadian male undergraduates were given one of two images to look at – either a Victoria’s Secret model or a neutral object, a rock – and then asked to make a financial decision, the guys who’d been looking at the Victoria’s Secret model made significantly worse financial decisions than those who’d been looking at a rock.

What makes us human is our irrationality – and that the choices we make are influenced by a whole host of factors that have nothing to do with the decision at hand.

What makes us smart is our ability to acknowledge this, and then actively challenge ourselves and our immediate impulse. 

The “What Makes Us Human?” series is published in partnership with the Jeremy Vine show (BBC Radio 2)

Noreena Hertz’s “Eyes Wide Open: How to Make Smart Decisions in a Confusing World” is out in paperback (William Collins, £8.99)

Noreena Hertz is an academic and an author. Her most recent book is Eyes Wide Open. Other books include The Silent Takeover and I.O.U.: The Debt Threat and Why We Must Defuse It".

This article first appeared in the 13 August 2014 issue of the New Statesman, A century of meddling in the Middle East

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One Day Without Us reveals the spectre of Britain without immigration

Imagine a country without its NHS workers, its artists and even its consumers. That's why immigrants are striking today. 

What’s the best way of making yourself heard in politics? Protesting in the street, or contacting the media? Writing to politicians? A badge?

One option, of course, is to walk out - and give people a chance to recognise what they’d be missing if you weren’t there. In the labour movement, that’s long been an option – a last-case option, but an option nevertheless – when your contribution isn't being recognised.

A strike is a tit-for-tat negotiation and a warning shot. “I’ll work properly when you employ me properly”, it says, but simultaneously: “Here’s what you’d lose if I stopped”. Done right, the worker’s absence can shift the power balance in their favour.

Normally, people strike according to their role, in pursuit of certain conditions – the tube strikes, or last year’s teacher's strike.

Yet there is also a long and rich history of walk-outs whose terms are broader and boundaries hazier. One of the most famous is surely the 1975 Women's Strike, in Iceland, during which 90 per cent of the country's women refused to participate in either paid or unpaid work.

In 2016, the formula was repeated in Poland, where women went on strike to protest against a draconian change being proposed to the country's already-strict abortion laws. (It worked.)

Immigrant strikes, too, have a history. In 2006, for instance, a coalition of Los Angeles Catholic groups, unions and immigration reform groups proposed a boycott in opposition to a bill which, among other things, called for new border security fences to be built between America and Mexico. (Ahem.)

The action grew to become a national event, and on May 1, the “Great American Boycott” took place, with immigrants from Latin America and elsewhere leaving work, skipping school and refusing to buy or sell goods.

Now, with Donald Trump in the White House and Brexit looming, some have decided it’s time for another strike. Enter “One Day Without Us”.

Today, immigrants here in Britain will strike not for pay conditions or holiday allowances, but for basic recognition and respect. Across the country, businesses will close and immigrants will leave work, many of them to take place in alternative actions like rallies or letter-writing campaigns.

The name of the protest pulls no punches. This, it says, is what it would be like if we all went away. (Subtext: “like some of you want”.)

Because – and let’s be honest here – it’d be bad. In hospital this summer, I was treated by migrants. After 24 hours in NHS, I took a count, and found that only about one in five of the staff who had treated me were identifiably English. Around 4.6 per cent of NHS staff nationally are from the EU, including 9 per cent of doctors. Immigrants clean buildings, make our food, and provide a whole host of other vital services.

One Day Without Us, then, could do Britain a huge favour - it provides us with a quick preview function before anyone ups and leaves for good, taking the heart of our health service, or our food supplies, with them.

In recognition of this, some businesses are actively giving their workers the day off. One 36-year-old owner of a support services company, for instance, is giving her staff a paid holiday.

“Not all my colleagues are taking up the offer not to come in”, she explained. “Some, both British and foreign-born, would prefer to work. That’s fine, I wanted to give colleagues the freedom to choose.

 “It will cause some inconvenience and I’ve had to explain to clients why we aren’t offering all our services for one day, but I feel doing this is the only way to show how much this country relies on migrants. I may be a businesswoman, but I’m a human being first, and it hurts my heart to see how foreign-born colleagues are being treated by some people in the current political climate."

The woman, whose staff is 65 per cent foreign born, has asked her company not to be identified. She’s heard her staff being abused for speaking Polish.

Of course, not everyone is able to walk out of work. I write this from Chicago, Illinois, where last week activists participated in an American predecessor to One Day Without Us called “Day Without Immigrants”. Type “Day Without Immigrants" into Google followed by the word "Chicago" and you will find reports of restaurants closing down and citizens marching together through the city.

But search for just "Day Without Immigrants", and the top stories are all about participants being fired.

One Day Without Us, then, encourages any form of engagement. From human chains to sessions during which participants can write to their MP, these events allow immigrants, and supporters, to make themselves known across the country.

Businesses and museums, too, are involved. The Tate, for instance, is offering free tours showing visitors artworks created or influenced by migrants, showing Londoners which of the paintings that they’ve seen a dozen times only exist because of immigration.

Because paintings, like people, come from everywhere, whether or not you remember. Britain is a mongrel country, and so its art and culture are as mongrel as its workforce: a persistent thread through the country’s history.

We risk a lot forgetting this. At its best, assimilation provides a way of integrating without forgetting one’s own unique identity. In a world where immigrants risk threats or violence, however, invisibility can be the best option. For some, it is better not to be recognized as an immigrant than be abused as one.

Those of us who don’t risk threats have a duty to recognise this. I dislike the glibness of “we are all migrants” – maybe, technically, but we’re not all getting slurs shouted at us in the high street, are we? Still, I also don’t like anyone forgetting the fact that their existence, in all probably, is contingent on someone once being given clemency in a place that was their own. The movement of people is woven into the fabric of society.

Of course, it is impossible to say how successful One Day Without Us will be, or how many people’s lives will be directly affected. But I hope that, even as a gesture, it works: that people think of what would be missing from their lives without immigration.

We ignore it at our peril.

You can view all the One Day Without Us events on the organisers’ website, or contribute to a fund to support businesses which are closing for the day here.

Stephanie Boland is digital assistant at the New Statesman. She tweets at @stephanieboland