Social Influence Bias, first-mover advantage, and authorial success

From Whither Cultural Critics? by Adam Waytz.

In a now-famous experiment, Matt Salganik, Peter Dodds, and Duncan Watts empirically demonstrated this effect in an artificial music market. They allowed people to download various songs and randomly assigned people to see the opinions of others who had downloaded these songs. Sometimes a particular song was shown to be well-liked by the masses, and in other versions of the study, that same song was shown to be disliked. Regardless of quality, people evaluated the songs they believed to be well-liked positively and the songs they believed to be disliked negatively.

In more recent work, Lev Muchnik, Sinan Aral, and Sean Taylor have documented this “social influence bias” on a news aggregation website where users can up-vote or down-vote comments posted on various articles. The experimenters initially up-voted some comments and down-voted others at random, and showed that an initial up-vote led to increased subsequent up-voting whereas an initial down-vote increased down-voting. Interestingly, people also “corrected” the down-voted comments by up-voting them more than baseline levels, but even this correction never spurred them to the level of positivity that artificially up-voted comments attained. This experiment again suggests that our evaluations of anything are inevitably influenced by others’ evaluations, and the increasingly public nature of opinion, objectivity is increasingly hard to find.

This is analogous to, and indeed might be the same thing as, the first-movers advantage in business. When circumstances change (consumer preferences, regulation, technology, etc.), the first company in to the new market has a presumed advantage over latecomers in terms of shaping consumer expectations, establishing a position of cost competitiveness, etc. While the occasional reality of first-mover advantage is well documented, it is not necessarily a useful predictor, i.e. there are many first-movers who fail to capitalize on the first-mover advantage and fall prey to second movers.

I wonder if anyone has done any similar study in publishing/literature. I think there is an indisputable feature of the publishing industry in which it is immensely difficult to get published the first time. Once published though, it is several degrees easier to get a second book published than if one were to start all over again. If, for whatever reason, Author A is able to garner kudos from both the public and critics on the publication of their first book, then they are far more likely to succeed in getting a second book published than Author B publishing an equal quality book which did not catch attention the first time.

Part of this is, of course, simple commerce. A publisher is much more likely to chance a second title from an author who was favorably received the first time (to some degree independent of whether their first book was a significant financial success). I do suspect that social influence bias does play a role though in future success. As I approach an unknown book by an unknown author, I am at significant risk of wasting my time and money in discovering that there is a poor match between what I as a reader am seeking and what the author is providing. On the other hand, if I select a title and/or author based on reviews from publications I respect or from word of mouth recommendations from friends and family, then I approach the book with a pre-established expectation that I will enjoy the book. As long as expectations aren't too elevated, I suspect that my post reading assessment of the book will likely be more positive than it otherwise would have been, simply because of social influence bias.

What that suggests to me is that the author/publisher really has two goals when releasing a debut book - 1) financial success via sales, and 2) strong and positive engagement with the reading public. I am guessing those are already well established objectives but the concept of social influence bias suggests that there is a longer term value to the second goal that might not be fully weighted as might warrant.

He was found alive, trying to load his musket to fight again.

From Ages of Revolution: How Old Were They on July 4, 1776? by Todd Andrlik. Ages of some of the Founding Fathers at the time of the Declaration of Independence. As Andrik points out, a couple of them might have been better called Founding Teenagers. You can look at the list and see a divine hand, or wonder at the circumstances that led to such a concentration of talent and ability at such a time. Alternatively, you can look at the list and think, "What a bunch of curve busters".

In particular, look at the ages of the three authors of The Federalist Papers, Alexander Hamilton, James Madison and John Jay, 21, 25, and 30 at the time of the Declaration of Independence (The Federalist Papers were penned in 1787-88 in support of the ratification of the Constitution). The education system might not have existed at that time but there was a phenomenal degree of self-education going on.

Marquis de Lafayette, 18
James Monroe, 18
Henry Lee III, 20
Aaron Burr, 20
John Marshall, 20
Nathan Hale, 21
Alexander Hamilton, 21
Gouveneur Morris, 24
Betsy Ross, 24 ad
James Madison, 25
Henry Knox, 25
Edward Rutledge, 26
John Paul Jones, 28
John Jay, 30
Abigail Adams, 31
Casimir Pulaski, 31
Nathanael Greene, 33
Thomas Jefferson, 33
Benedict Arnold, 35
Thomas Knowlton, 35
Ethan Allen, 38
Thomas Paine, 39
Patrick Henry, 40
John Adams, 40
Daniel Boone, 41
Francis Lightfoot Lee, 41
Paul Revere, 41
Charles Lee, 44
Francis Marion, 44
George Washington, 44
Friedrich von Steuben, 45
Martha Washington, 45
Benjamin Harrison, 50
Samuel Adams, 53
Thomas Gage, 56
Israel Putnam, 58
Benjamin Franklin, 70
Samuel Whittemore, 81

Samuel Whittemore might not be widely remembered, but he is well worth remembering for his example of determined staunchness as recounted in Wikipedia.

On April 19, 1775, British forces were returning to Boston from the Battles of Lexington and Concord, the opening engagements of the war. On their march they were continually shot at by colonial militiamen.

Whittemore was in his fields when he spotted an approaching British relief brigade under Earl Percy, sent to assist the retreat. Whittemore loaded his musket and ambushed the British from behind a nearby stone wall, killing one soldier. He then drew his dueling pistols and killed a grenadier and mortally wounded a second. By the time Whittemore had fired his third shot, a British detachment reached his position; Whittemore drew his sword and attacked. He was shot in the face, bayoneted thirteen times, and left for dead in a pool of blood. He was found alive, trying to load his musket to fight again. He was taken to Dr. Cotton Tufts of Medford, who perceived no hope for his survival. However, Whittemore lived another 18 years until dying of natural causes at the age of 98.

But when it beholdeth the chain of them, confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity

An Essay on Criticism by Alexander Pope.

A little Learning is a dang'rous Thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian Spring:
There shallow Draughts intoxicate the Brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.
Fir'd at first Sight with what the Muse imparts,
In fearless Youth we tempt the Heights of Arts,
While from the bounded Level of our Mind,
Short Views we take, nor see the lengths behind,
But more advanc'd, behold with strange Surprize
New, distant Scenes of endless Science rise!
So pleas'd at first, the towring Alps we try,
Mount o'er the Vales, and seem to tread the Sky;
Th' Eternal Snows appear already past,
And the first Clouds and Mountains seem the last:
But those attain'd, we tremble to survey
The growing Labours of the lengthen'd Way,
Th' increasing Prospect tires our wandering Eyes,
Hills peep o'er Hills, and Alps on Alps arise!

That's in 1709.

But Francis Bacon had a similar but distinct observation in The Essays: of Atheism published in 1601.

I had rather believe all the fables in the Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a mind. And therefore, God never wrought miracle, to convince atheism, because his ordinary works convince it. It is true, that a little philosophy inclineth man’s mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men’s minds about to religion. For while the mind of man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no further; but when it beholdeth the chain of them, confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity.

In both instances (highlighted in bold), the advice is not to dabble but to plunge. That dabbling leads you astray and only by embracing (learning or philosophy as the case might be) can you hope to sober up and comprehend.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions

Presaging The Structure of Scientific Revolutions by Thomas Kuhn. Francis Bacon in The New Organon in 1620.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

He forcefully argues that no single known gene is sufficient to ensure athletic success

From Talent Lies Within. But Where? by Christie Aschwanden.

But what exactly differentiated the two runners? Was Scott endowed with some gene for speed? Could David’s grit and determination overcome his apparent lack of innate ability? Where does the intersection between talent and practice lie?

These are the questions Mr. Epstein seeks to answer in this captivating book, which began as a feature in Sports Illustrated, where he is a senior writer. The book’s title misleads, since he forcefully argues that no single known gene is sufficient to ensure athletic success. His answer to the question “Nature or nurture?” is both.

If that sounds like a hedge, it isn’t: instead, it’s a testament to the author’s close attention to nuance. He approaches his subject like a scientist, stopping to examine the uncertainties and taking care not to overgeneralize.

[snip]

Whether (and how fast) chumps can become champs depends on their baseline ability and how rapidly they improve — factors highly influenced by genetics. After months of identical training, some exercisers make almost no fitness gains, while others increase their aerobic capacities by 50 percent or more. Scientists have identified more than 20 gene variants that can separate high responders from low ones.

Mr. Epstein argues that we often confuse innate talent with spirit or effort. Even traits like desire may arise from DNA (see the Iditarod dogs selectively bred for enthusiastic pulling), but that does not mean they come down to any single gene. Whether it’s running faster, standing taller or jumping higher, multiple genetic pathways may lead there.

In a particularly fascinating chapter, Mr. Epstein investigates an old theory that purports to explain why one small country, Jamaica, produces so many Olympic sprinters. The notion is that strong Africans were selected as slaves, that the strongest of them survived the voyage to Jamaica, and that the strongest survivors eventually escaped slavery and cloistered themselves in a remote region to form an isolated “warrior” gene stock that now produces world-class athletes.

It makes a convenient story. But it is belied by the DNA research of Yannis Pitsiladis, a biologist at the University of Glasgow, who finds no genetically distinct subgroup of Jamaican sprinters. It appears that Jamaica churns out sprinters because almost everyone on the island tries the sport.

For as they have been successful in inducing belief, so they have been effective in quenching and stopping inquiry

The New Organon (or True Directions Concerning the Interpretation of Nature) by Francis Bacon. From his preface.

Those who have taken upon them to lay down the law of nature as a thing already searched out and understood, whether they have spoken in simple assurance or professional affectation, have therein done philosophy and the sciences great injury. For as they have been successful in inducing belief, so they have been effective in quenching and stopping inquiry; and have done more harm by spoiling and putting an end to other men's efforts than good by their own. Those on the other hand who have taken a contrary course, and asserted that absolutely nothing can be known — whether it were from hatred of the ancient sophists, or from uncertainty and fluctuation of mind, or even from a kind of fullness of learning, that they fell upon this opinion — have certainly advanced reasons for it that are not to be despised; but yet they have neither started from true principles nor rested in the just conclusion, zeal and affectation having carried them much too far. The more ancient of the Greeks (whose writings are lost) took up with better judgment a position between these two extremes — between the presumption of pronouncing on everything, and the despair of comprehending anything; and though frequently and bitterly complaining of the difficulty of inquiry and the obscurity of things, and like impatient horses champing at the bit, they did not the less follow up their object and engage with nature, thinking (it seems) that this very question — viz., whether or not anything can be known — was to be settled not by arguing, but by trying. And yet they too, trusting entirely to the force of their understanding, applied no rule, but made everything turn upon hard thinking and perpetual working and exercise of the mind.

The science is never settled, regardless of what politicians and advocates say.

The accidental limitations which it is our duty to outgrow and the necessary limitations of our nature

The Dyer's Hand by W.H. Auden.

A child's reading is guided by pleasure, but his pleasure is undifferentiated; he cannot distinguish, for example, between aesthetic pleasure and the pleasures of learning or daydreaming. In adolescence we realize that there are different kinds of pleasure, some of which cannot be enjoyed simultaneously, but we need help from others in defining them. Whether it be a matter of taste in food or taste in literature, the adolescent looks for a mentor in whose authority he can believe. He eats or reads what his mentor recommends and, inevitably, there are occasions when he has to deceive himself a little; he has to pretend that he enjoys olives or War and Peace a little more than he actually does. Between the ages of twenty and forty we are engaged in the process of discovering who we are, which involves learning the difference between accidental limitations which it is our duty to outgrow and the necessary limitations of our nature beyond which we cannot trespass with impunity. Few of us can learn this without making mistakes, without trying to become a little more of a universal man than we are permitted to be. It is during this period that a writer can most easily be led astray by another writer or by some ideology. When someone between twenty and forty says, apropos of a work of art, 'I know what I like,'he is really saying 'I have no taste of my own but accept the taste of my cultural milieu', because, between twenty and forty, the surest sign that a man has a genuine taste of his own is that he is uncertain of it. After forty, if we have not lost our authentic selves altogether, pleasure can again become what it was when we were children, the proper guide to what we should read.”

The formulae fall victim of a form of civil war: they predict that there are things which they cannot predict, observations which cannot be made, statements whose truth they can neither affirm nor deny.

From Impossibility: The Limits of Science and the Science of Limits by John D. Barrow, page 2. An interesting observation about the tendency to take a known truth and use it to go beyond its known limitations to make what are essentially forecasts about a desired rather than proven world.

There is an intriguing pattern to many areas of deep human inquiry. Observations of the world are made; patterns are discerned and described by mathematical formulae. The formulae predict more and more of what is seen, and our confidence in their explanatory and predictive power grows. Over a long period of time the formulae seem to be infallible: everything they predict is seen. Users of the magic formulae begin to argue that they will allow us to understand everything. The end of some branch of human inquiry seems to be in sight. Books start to be written, prizes begin to be awarded, and of the giving of popular expositions there is no end. But then something unexpected happens. It's not that the formulae are contradicted by Nature. It's not that something is seen which takes the formulae by surprise. Something much more unusual happens. The formulae fall victim of a form of civil war: they predict that there are things which they cannot predict, observations which cannot be made, statements whose truth they can neither affirm nor deny. The theory proves to be limited, not merely in its sphere of applicability, but to be self-limiting. Without ever revealing an internal inconsistency, or failing to account for something we have seen in the world, the theory produces a `no-go' statement. We shall see that only unrealistically simple scientific theories avoid this fate. Logical descriptions of complex worlds contain within themselves the seeds of their own limitation. A world that was simple enough to be fully known would be too simple to contain conscious observers who might know it.

It will be entirely a work of explanation; there will be no predictions, no tests of its correctness

From Impossibility: The Limits of Science and the Science of Limits by John D. Barrow, page 3.

Complete knowledge is a tempting pie in the sky. Although it appears in some commentator's minds as the obvious goal of science, it is a concept largely unknown within the writings of contemporary science. It is the hallmark of many varieties of pseudo-science, just as it pervades countless ancient myths and legends about the origin and nature of the world. These stories leave nothing out: they have an answer for everything. They aim to banish the insecurity of ignorance and provide a complete interlinked picture of the world in which human beings play a meaningful role. They remove the worrying idea of the unknown. If you are at the mercy of the wind and the rain it helps to personify those unpredictable elements as the character traits of a storm god. Even today, many spurious attempts to explain the world around us still bear this hallmark. Horoscopes seek to create a spurious determinism that links our personalities to the orientations of the stars. Uncertainties about tomorrow can be hidden behind vague generalities about the future course of events. It is strange how many inhabitants of modern democracies feel no qualms about living under an astral dictatorship that would plan their every thought and action.

This desire for complete seamless explanation infests most examples of crank science. When somebody mails me their explanation of the architecture of the Universe derived from the geometry of the Great Pyramid, or the cipher of the Kabbalah, it will usually display a number of features: it will be entirely a work of explanation; there will be no predictions, no tests of its correctness; and nothing lies beyond its encompass. It is not the beginning of any research programme. Beyond refutation, it is always the last word.

In every chain of reasoning, the evidence of the last conclusion can be no greater than that of the weakest link of the chain, whatever may be the strength of the rest.

Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man by Thomas Reid, 1786.

In every chain of reasoning, the evidence of the last conclusion can be no greater than that of the weakest link of the chain, whatever may be the strength of the rest.