How to disrupt misinformation with the “ladder of misinference”

It likely wasn’t long after the first utterances of our ancestors that misinformation was born. It may have been an honest misunderstanding. It may have been a dubious actor trying to get one up on his fellow tribe members. Whatever the case, half-truths and alternative facts are nothing new. Granted, a case can be made that social media and AI have supercharged the spread of misinformation but the age-old, and rather humbling, reason it persists is simple enough: Under the right conditions, everyone is susceptible.

One reason is “decision fatigue.” We often lack the specialized knowledge to thoroughly assess the many ideas, statements, and news stories we encounter daily. Even if we could gain that knowledge, learning takes time and we live busy lives. We can check in on what the experts say, but experts will disagree, so that route means determining whom to listen to.

So what do we do? We google our question, fact-check it against a favorite source, and move on.

But as Alex Edmans, professor of finance at the London Business School and the author of May Contain Lies, warns, simply checking the facts isn’t enough. We need to apply a bit of healthy skepticism to the information we encounter — even if, perhaps especially if, it comes from a source we trust and confirms a cherished belief. 

Thankfully, Edmans has created a handy cognitive mental tool to help. He calls it the “ladder of misinference.” If you ever find yourself climbing it with the statements you’re making or the facts you’re sharing, he recommends pausing to ensure the rung you’re standing on offers solid footing.

Why misinformation prevails

Before discussing the ladder, we need a fuller picture of why we are so susceptible to misinformation because decision fatigue is just one reason. As Edmans explained during an interview with Big Think+, our mental makeup leaves us vulnerable in several ways. Another is the incentive to create or believe misinformation in the first place.

“Even if you have a well-credentialed author, it might be that he or she can sometimes make unintentional mistakes, or maybe he or she might have different incentives and might exaggerate the findings to give you a paper that is more likely to sell. So what this suggests for us as consumers of information is to avoid putting too much weight on one single study,” Edmans says.

Experts and single sources can become stickier for us when they directly feed another of our vulnerabilities: confirmation bias. This bias refers to our tendency to selectively seek out or use information that confirms our pre-existing or desired outcomes. It can lead to habits such as “naïve acceptance” — when we uncritically accept something because we want it to be true — or “biased search” — when we only search for the information that will provide the answer we want. 

“My biggest concern with misinformation is that people will claim something is rigorous because it’s by an authority figure or written in a book. So people might say, ‘Well, there’s a book that shows this,’ but anybody can write a book. There is no quality control,” Edmans says.

Consider, for instance, the most infamous disinformation campaign of the last century: the tobacco industry playbook. For years, big tobacco funded “independent” research and released spurious studies alongside full-page advertisements to claim that smoking was not harmful to people’s health. Even the Flintstones got taken in, publicly praising the difference that Winston’s “filter blend” made in a 1960 commercial (which could explain why they switched to vitamins later).

Were smokers of the day dullards for falling for this disinformation? Absolutely not. Plenty of people with impressive credentials claimed smoking was fine, and addiction provides ample incentive to lean into one’s confirmation bias. Even if a smoker investigated the facts, the tobacco industry had thoroughly muddied the waters, sowing skepticism over the conclusions reached by the science.

“Doubt is our product, since it is the best means of competing with the ‘body of fact’ [linking smoking with disease] that exists in the mind of the general public,” reads a 1969 internal memo from the Brown and Williamson tobacco company.

The ladder of misinference 

The tobacco playbook was eventually revealed to be a scheme; however, its tactics are widely known today and available for individuals, organizations, government bodies, and lobby groups to use freely. This is where Edmans’ ladder of misinference can help us better evaluate the information we are presented, as well as the beliefs we hold.

The framework is constructed of four steps. They are:

1. A statement is not fact. Just because someone said it doesn’t mean it is accurate.
2. A fact is not data. It may be an isolated truth and not representative.
3. Data is not evidence. It may not be conclusive. 
4. Evidence is not proof. It may not be universal but instead limited to a specific context.

For each step, each rung up the ladder, we risk exaggerating our claims when the supporting evidence becomes too flimsy. We may portray a statement as a fact, a fact as data, and so on, even when they aren’t. To prevent this misinference, Edmans notes, we need to contextualize and validate the information we share — as well as the information shared with us — to see which rung best supports the claim.

Consider, for instance, a smoker in the 1950s trying to determine whether smoking is or isn’t healthy. Let’s call him Barney.

Barney starts with the statement, “Smoking is fine.” It’s a strong claim, one seen often in newspaper ads of the day, but it’s not necessarily a fact. After all, any doctor who makes such a statement in an advertisement likely has a vested interest in you buying cigarettes.

Barney acknowledges this, but counters with the fact that his father smoked unfiltered cigarettes every day, lived to be 82, and never developed cancer. This is a fact but also an anecdote. It’s not data. Many causal factors contribute to health, one of which is pure luck. Barney’s dad may be an isolated case.

He then reads a preliminary study on the matter. The study uses data to back up its conclusions, but the scientists admit their results are inconclusive. The research only shows a positive correlation between long-term smoking and lung cancer. It can’t prove a causal relationship. Only later, when many studies have accumulated lots of data and that data is analyzed through meta-analyses and systematic reviews, does the evidence solidify into a more robust scientific consensus.

Even after this, Barney has to concede that such meta-analyses don’t provide universal proof (a la Archimedes and a geometric proof). Some people, like his father, will smoke and never develop cancer. The scientific evidence is still strong enough that he should seriously consider whether his smoking habit will increase the chance of developing a terminal illness later in life.

“Information is never cast-iron proof — and that’s okay; it can still be useful. Perfect shouldn’t be the enemy of good. But when quoting a story, statistic, or study, we should be clear on what it is and what it isn’t, and not climb the ladder of misinference,” Edmans writes.

Thinking critically about misinformation

Even with the ladder of misinference, the answer you find may not be as black and white as you want. Life is nuanced like that. However, with this critical thinking tool, you can better determine what facts, ideas, and beliefs you can place your trust in.

“[The ladder] might not eliminate misinformation because you’re human and you can’t get it right all the time,” Edmans says. “But if you reduce the amount of times that you’re susceptible to misinformation, that can improve your life in many ways.” 

This is the best anyone can do — and the true benefit of critical inquiry is that it gives you the knowledge and flexibility you need to ensure you make the best decision given your goals and the available data. Your future self can always amend them as new goals arise and new data is gathered.