I'm a professional fool. A research project that was definitely going to work. A paper that would, for sure, be published in that prestigious journal. A promise to my kids that we wouldn't get lost again on a hiking trip. Looking back, my life is a graveyard of these magnificent, and sometimes necessary, delusions. And honestly, I’m not sure I would be here today without them. Deception, and self deception in particular, is a common feature of life.
In nature, deception is abundant and evolutionarily important. It is common in species relationships with competitors, predators and pollinators. One third of all orchid species, the most diverse family of flowering plants, deceive bees into pollination while providing no reward. I don't have the space here to give this topic its much deserved attention, but the details of sexual deception in orchids is mind-blowing. Animals do it too, playing possum, curling up and pretending to be dead — one of the oldest tricks in an animal’s anti-predator playbook. And what about us? After all, we are animals just like the rest of them.
Of course humans are excellent deceivers, but what about self-deception? Yes, indeed, it is a prominent feature of human life. How many of us would be where we are today without fooling ourselves? On that note, a hearty welcome to the Class of 2029! And a surprising piece of advice: embrace your inner fool. We all fool ourselves. We do it when we look at democracy as rock solid. We do it when we look in the mirror and think, "These bags under my eyes are just from too much sun this summer.” And we definitely do it when we reach for that third scoop of ice cream and tell ourselves, "I really need this.”
But how does deceiving others lead to self-deception? Some evolutionary psychologists argue that our ability to fool ourselves is a byproduct of the benefits of fooling others. By creating a compelling story about ourselves — one where we are smarter, faster or more capable than we really are — we're not just preparing to deceive the world, we are deceiving them more effectively because we believe it ourselves. And sometimes, we are giving ourselves the fortitude to face challenges.
Fooling myself that I can do it — teach a class, raise children, spend years studying an unsolved problem, get on a bike without crashing — has been a critical secret to my success. But where to draw the line? And how much uncertainty and delusion are we comfortable with? Self-deception allowed me to underprepare for the most important toast at my brother’s wedding. It led to over-confidence, which although sometimes beneficial, in this case led to embarrassment. I would prefer that my surgeon, were I to be in that bike crash, not indulge in self-deceiving their readiness for the operation.
The fine line sits between a productive delusion and a dangerous one. Believing you can swim across Lake Cayuga might push you to train harder and achieve something. It’s a calculated risk, grounded in the possibility of success. A dangerous delusion is believing you can fly just by flapping your arms. That's not self-deception; it's a denial of reality and yet another way to embarrass yourself at a family wedding. The challenge for all of us is to find that sweet spot: the belief that allows you to push past fear and doubt without ignoring the undeniable, physics-defying facts of life. In this battle, awareness can help until it holds you back.
My message is this: don't be afraid to fool yourself. Embrace the delusion that you can change the world, that you can solve the impossible problem and that you have what it takes to get through the next five years. Acknowledge your fears, but don't let them stop you. A little self-deception might just be the most honest, and most powerful, tool you have. Or, it might get you in some deep doo-doo.
Deception of others sometimes helps us get the job done. Deception of ourselves, the same. The dangers of both are well-known, politically and personally. Yet, being aware that these are aspects of our nature, opens possibilities for getting it right. It’s about being smart enough to know you're fooling yourself, and brave enough to do it anyway.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some life-saving research to do, and it is definitely going to work.
Anurag Agrawal is the James A. Perkins Professor of Environmental Studies in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. He is a field biologist and studies the Ecology and Evolution of Botany and Entomology.His column Candor and Chlorophyll runs periodically this semester, and was introduced here in 2024. He can be reached at profaagrawal@cornellsun.com. He also posts his pieces on bluesky.
