As educated people, we take pride in being logical. We like to think that we make our decisions – political, professional and personal – by weighing the alternatives and choosing the most justifiable option. Those of us with quick minds assume that we do this rational reflection intuitively. We think that our brains are so wired that our instinctual reactions will be innately logical and would stand up to rigorous analysis. It would be great if this were true, but often it’s just not.
Take my friend, Kane, for instance. For the last three years, Kane has pursued two things: a postgraduate degree in mathematics and a romantic relationship with Christy. He’s approached each with roughly equal enthusiasm, though distinctly unequal success. While writing out his equations, Kane’s also been writing sonnets. He’s bought flowers, he’s asked Christy out (numerous times), he’s dreamed about how good they’d be together, he’s sent her love letters, he’s cried over her continued rejection of him and suffered shame as his friends have called him crazy. For everyone could see that the situation was hopeless – perhaps even Kane himself in his more honest moments. But despite the realities, Kane was unable to give up his infatuation. He’d say that he has invested too much in Christy to just let it go and so every week he’d find another way of humiliating himself over her.
Kane’s extensive training in mathematical logic did nothing to protect him from illogic in his personal life. Kane, like so many others, had fallen for the . My mother alerted me to this irrationality when I was young. We were at the shops and I had used my own money to buy an ice-cream. I was complaining that I didn’t like the flavor I had chosen.
“Well don’t eat it then,” Mum had said. “Throw it away.”
“But I paid for it,” I complained. “I have to eat it or it was a waste of money.”
“It’s a sunk cost,” she replied. “You’ve already paid for it. You’re not getting your money back whether you eat it or not, so if it’s as bad as you say, just put it in the bin.”
I ate the ice cream and didn’t enjoy it at all, but the concept of sunk costs stayed with me.
* * *
Technically speaking, a sunk cost is any cost that has already been paid and cannot be recovered. The $3 that I spent on my ice-cream and the three years that Kane spent pursuing Christy are sunk. We are not getting them back. So my decision about what to do with the ice-cream and Kane’s decision about whether or not to continue to pursue Christy ought not take the $3 and 3 years into account. Instead we should look only at the future costs and benefits. But that’s hard to do.
Right now I’m in an argument with myself over whether or not I should continue to work on this piece. I’ve no idea if it will go anywhere but I feel that I should keep writing because I’ve already invested a couple of hours in the preceding paragraphs. To stop writing will mean that those hours were wasted. But I’m not getting that time back, whatever I do, and if I keep writing and the piece doesn’t amount to anything (which, at this point, looks likely) not only will I have wasted those hours yesterday, but I’m also going to waste more time today. Perhaps I should cut my losses and start working on something else. Something more likely to have a future.
I weigh things up and then keep writing. I tell myself that I’m continuing with it because the topic is enjoyable and not because I’m loss averse. That might be true.
But as humans, our judgement is clouded. We find it so difficult to disentangle ourselves from the past and the more money or time or passion that we’ve invested in something, the harder it becomes for us to abandon it – even when it is clear that no good will come of our investment.
As I reflect on past personal illogics (there have been many), with the clarity of hindsight I can see that the underlying issue has often been my pride. I’ve gone on investing in opinions and ideas and dreams and plans and theological convictions and teaching methods and ministries and clothes and pantry items because to let them go would mean that I’d have to admit that I wasn’t as clever as I thought, not as insightful, not as omniscient. I’ve been unwilling to accept that the time or passion or money I’ve spent in the past is indeed sunk, so I’ve gone on ‘throwing good money after bad’. I’ve not been willing to let go of the past.
But as Christians we can freely let go of the past. We serve the God who makes all things work together for good (Romans 8:28). He takes our successes and our failures, our wisdoms and our mistakes and uses them all to achieve his purposes. We are freer than anyone else to leave past ill-judgements behind and look ahead. Because for us, the future is all gain. Our pride might take a hit when we abandon old ideas but what does that matter? Glory awaits, so we can look rationally at the decisions in front of us. We can “forget what lies behind and reach forward to what lies ahead; pressing on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13-14)
Image: Managementboy
