Page 82 - Malcolm Gladwell - Talking to Strangers
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our stereotype of how a liar acts. And she also happens to be lying. That’s why we all get her right.
                    In  the  Friends  episode,  when  Monica  finally  breaks  the  news  to  her  brother  Ross  about  her
                    relationship, she takes Ross’s hand and says, “I’m so sorry that you had to find out this way. I’m
                    sorry. But it’s true, I love him too.” We believe her in that moment—that she is genuinely sorry and
                    genuinely in love, because she’s perfectly matched. She’s being sincere and she looks sincere.
                       When a liar acts like an honest person, though, or when an honest person acts like a liar, we’re
                    flummoxed.  Nervous  Nelly  is  mismatched.  She  looks  like  she’s  lying,  but  she’s  not.  She’s  just
                    nervous! In other words, human beings are not bad lie detectors. We are bad lie detectors in those
                    situations when the person we’re judging is mismatched.
                       At one point in his pursuit of Bernie Madoff, Harry Markopolos approached a seasoned financial
                    journalist  named  Michael  Ocrant.  Markopolos  persuaded  Ocrant  to  take  Madoff  seriously  as  a
                    potential fraud, to the point that Ocrant made an appointment to interview Madoff in person. But
                    what happened?
                       “It wasn’t so much his answers that impressed me, but rather it was his entire demeanor,” Ocrant
                    said years later.
                       It was almost impossible to sit there with him and believe he was a complete fraud. I remember
                       thinking to myself, If [Markopolos’s team] is right and he’s running a Ponzi scheme, he’s either
                       the best actor I’ve ever seen or a total sociopath. There wasn’t even a hint of guilt or shame or
                       remorse. He was very low-key, almost as if he found the interview amusing. His attitude was sort
                       of “Who in their right mind could doubt me? I can’t believe people care about this.”
                       Madoff was mismatched. He was a liar with the demeanor of an honest man. And Ocrant—who
                    knew, on an intellectual level, that something was not right—was so swayed by meeting Madoff that
                    he dropped the story. Can you blame him? First there is default to truth, which gives the con artist a
                    head start. But when you add mismatch to that, it’s not hard to understand why Madoff fooled so
                    many for so long.
                       And  why  did  so  many  of  the  British  politicians  who  met  with  Hitler  misread  him  so  badly?
                    Because Hitler was mismatched as well. Remember Chamberlain’s remark about how Hitler greeted
                    him with a double-handed handshake, which Chamberlain believed Hitler reserved for people he
                    liked and trusted? For many of us, a warm and enthusiastic handshake does mean that we feel warm
                    and enthusiastic about the person we’re meeting. But not Hitler. He’s the dishonest person who acts
                    honest. 1


                                                           3.


                    So what was Amanda Knox’s problem? She was mismatched. She’s the innocent person who acts
                    guilty. She’s Nervous Nelly.
                       Knox was—to those who did not know her—confusing. At the time of the crime she was twenty
                    and beautiful, with high cheekbones and striking blue eyes. Her nickname was “Foxy Knoxy.” The
                    tabloids got hold of a list she had made of all the men she’d slept with. She was the femme fatale—
                    brazen  and  sexual.  The  day  after  her  roommate’s  brutal  murder,  she  was  spotted  buying  red
                    underwear at a lingerie shop with her boyfriend.
                       In fact, the “Foxy Knoxy” nickname had nothing to do with sex. It was bestowed on her at age
                    thirteen by soccer teammates for the deft way she moved the ball up and down the field. She was
                    buying red underwear a few days after her roommate’s murder because her house was a crime scene
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                    and she couldn’t get access to her clothes. She wasn’t a femme fatale.  She was an immature young
                    woman only a few years removed from an awkward and pimply adolescence. Brazen and sexual?
                    Amanda Knox was actually a bit of a misfit.
                       “I was the quirky kid who hung out with the sulky manga-readers, the ostracized gay kids, and
                    the theater geeks,” she writes in her memoir, published in 2011 after she was finally released from
                    an Italian prison.
                       In  high  school  she  was  the  middle-class  kid  on  financial  aid,  surrounded  by  well-heeled
                    classmates. “I took Japanese and sang, loudly, in the halls while walking from one class to another.
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