Success is simply a matter of luck
Years ago I asked economist Robert Shiller, who won the Nobel Prize in economics, “What do you want to know about investing
that we can’t know?” “The exact role of luck in successful outcomes,” he answered. I love that response, because no one actually thinks luck doesn’t play a role in financial success. But since it’s hard to quantify luck and rude to suggest people’s success is owed to it, the default stance is often to implicitly ignore luck as a factor of success. If I say, “There are a billion investors in the world. By sheer chance, would you expect 10 of them to become billionaires predominantly off luck?” You would reply, “Of course.” But then if I ask you to name those investors—to their face—you will likely back down. When judging others, attributing success to luck makes you look jealous and mean, even if we know it exists. And when judging yourself, attributing success to luck can be too demoralizing to accept. Economist Bhashkar Mazumder has shown that incomes among brothers are more correlated than height or weight. If you are rich and tall, your brother is more likely to also be rich than he is tall. I think most of us intuitively know this is true—the quality of your education and the doors that open for you are heavily linked to your parents’ socioeconomic status. But find me two rich brothers and I’ll show you two men who do not think this study’s findings apply to them. Failure—which can be anything from bankruptcy to not meeting a personal goal—is equally abused. Did failed businesses not try hard enough? Were bad investments not thought through well enough? Are wayward careers due to laziness? Sometimes, yes. Of course. But how much? It’s so hard to know. Everything worth pursuing has less than 100% odds of succeeding, and risk is just what happens when you end up on the unfortunate side of that equation. Just as with luck, the story gets too hard, too messy, too complex if we try to pick apart how much of an outcome was a conscious decision versus a risk. Say I buy a stock, and five years later it’s gone nowhere. It’s possible that I made a bad decision by buying it in the first place. It’s also possible that I made a good decision that had an 80% chance of making money, and I just happened to end up on the side of the unfortunate 20%. How do I know which is which? Did I make a mistake, or did I just experience the reality of risk? It’s possible to statistically measure whether some decisions were wise. But in the real world, day to day, we simply don’t. It’s too hard. We prefer simple stories, which are easy but often devilishly misleading.
After spending years around investors and business leaders I’ve come to realize that someone else’s failure is usually attributed to bad decisions, while your own failures are usually chalked up to the dark side of risk. When judging your failures I’m likely to prefer a clean and simple story of cause and effect, because I don’t know what’s going on inside your head. “You had a bad outcome so it must have been caused by a bad decision” is the story that makes the most sense to me. But when judging myself I can make up a wild narrative justifying my past decisions and attributing bad outcomes to risk. The cover of Forbes magazine does not celebrate poor investors who made good decisions but happened to experience the unfortunate side of risk. But it almost certainly celebrates rich investors who made OK or even reckless decisions and happened to get lucky. Both flipped the same coin that happened to land on a different side. The dangerous part of this is that we’re all trying to learn about what works and what doesn’t with money. What investing strategies work? Which ones don’t?
What business strategies work? Which ones don’t?
How do you get rich? How do you avoid being poor?
We tend to seek out these lessons by observing successes and failures and saying, “Do what she did, avoid what he did.” If we had a magic wand we would find out exactly what proportion of these outcomes were caused by actions that are repeatable, versus the role of random risk and luck that swayed those actions one way or the other. But we don’t have a magic wand. We have brains that prefer easy answers without much appetite for nuance. So identifying the traits we should emulate or avoid can be agonizingly hard.
