We all do it. In a moment of excitement, we exaggerate a story. Embellish just a bit. Sometimes, we are fully aware and consciously choose to change the memory. Sometimes, it is more unconscious, but then we notice, perhaps surprising ourselves and wondering why we did it. Sometimes, we don’t notice at all. Because in our brains, that is the memory that exists.
Scientists have long demonstrated the ambiguous nature of memories. Long thought of as reliable, concrete recordings of actual events, our memories actually appear more as mosaics, stored as tiny fragments, which can be manipulated over time. The memory center of the brain is in the lymbic system, which is also responsible for dealing with emotions, such as anger and fear. Those memories that are associated with strong emotions are more deeply remembered, though also just as susceptible to change (perhaps more so) than memories that are not as emotionally driven. The more that we revisit and retell those memories, the more they are likely to be edited. Similar to a game of telephone, the details are subject to modification with each recitation.
When it comes to “lies,” there is a wide spectrum. First, there is the lie that is told completely innocently. Our memories change things. Sometimes, we just get it wrong. On the other end of the spectrum, we have the lie that is told completely intentionally–usually to cover up something that we are hiding. In between, there are a lot of exaggerations and embellishments–some intentional, some not.
Brian Williams tells a great story. Personable and handsome, he has a talent for timing and structure, drawing in his audience quickly and effectively. One of his favorites to recount seems to be about the time that he was traveling in a helicopter with his NBC news team in the midst of the war, facing dangerous enemy fire. Over the past 12 years, he recounted the story on a number of occasions. But last week, that story telling backfired, and he found himself suddenly as the topic of the major headlines.
Let’s take a look at how this happened and some lessons that we can take away.
*** This analysis is part of a series using the lens of the Resilient Mindset Model. For background information about the model, please see http://centerforresilientleadership.com/uncategorized/the-resilient-mindset-model-overview/
The lymbic system is tucked in the center of the brain and serves as a switching station between the ant (long term thinking/ executive functions) and the grasshopper (short-term thinking). When our brain is forming memories it stores those memories within the lymbic system. Those memories that are particularly tied to emotions (say, being afraid of getting shot down in a helicopter) are particularly strong. That is because our brain hopes that we will remember what happened and learn not to do it again. Those types of memories also trigger the grasshopper because the grasshopper responds to primary threats.
When Brian Williams retells the story, he is once again triggering the grasshopper, because that memory is so tied to that primal fear. However, as he tells the story surrounded by his colleagues in the safety of his studio, his grasshopper is no longer physically threatened. Instead, being triggered in the absence of threat, the grasshopper seeks out a reward. Remember, the grasshopper doesn’t particularly care about long term interests. It is looking for short-term glory. And there is certainly more glory in traveling in the helicopter that was forced down after being hit, which offered his grasshopper Status. Additionally, he was telling the story as a tribute to a retiring command sergeant major. Being in the helicopter added some Relatedness as well. So, when the grasshopper assembled the memory mosaic, he made a little adjustment. Leave it to the ant to clean up the mess later. Was it a “lie?” Well, it was certainly on the spectrum, but the question is where?
Unfortunately for Brian Williams, the grasshoppers of the public feel betrayed, which makes the lie seem unforgivable. Combining his status (we held you in high regard), certainty (he represented a constant in our lives), and relatedness (come on, look at that smile and tell me that you didn’t relate), he built his reputation (and fame) on the trust of the American People. Which made it that much easier to fall.
So what is the lesson? How do we respond when we “mess up”? By appealing to the grasshopper. In his apology, Brain Williams claims that he “misremembered the events of 12 years ago” as if he forgot what happened. Ants forget. Grasshoppers get caught up in the moment. By admitting that he got caught up in the moment, our grasshoppers can relate. Our grasshoppers want an apology, but they want one that rings true to what happened. Brain Williams’ fell short. And that may just have cost him dearly.
