Reducing the cognitive load of decision-making
Years ago, I realized that people are generally expected to have opinions on things whether or not they really care about those things or have any real data to base an opinion on. Since then, I’ve tried to make it a conscious habit of thinking about whether it is worth my time and cognitive energy to form an opinion. When appropriate, I practice responding with, “I don’t have an opinion on that,” or “I don’t really have enough data to form an informed opinion,” or, if I’m being asked to choose one thing from several, “I don’t really care.” Of course, this approach works best with trivial opinions and opinions that have no real bearing on anything. There are many circumstances where it’s appropriate to educate myself enough to have an opinion, and many times, we have to make choices with little data.
This New York Times guest essay is in the same ballpark as my thinking: The Nobel-Winning Psychologist Who Believed He Found the Secret to Happiness:
If in making decisions you are often guided by a search for the best, you are going about decision making all wrong — and you’re also probably less happy for it.
In an age of information and choice abundance, we assume we can find the best of everything if we look long and hard enough. Psychologists call that tendency maximizing.
But searching for the best is the wrong goal. That is because searching is itself a cost, and most people forget to account for it. If you did, you would see that the optimal strategy isn’t optimizing at all.
There’s a better way to make decisions. To understand it, you should know about Herbert Simon, a pioneer of artificial intelligence and cognitive psychology, as well as a Nobel laureate in economics.
Mr. Simon demonstrated that for most decisions, humans can’t really evaluate the options available — there are too many, our information about them is incomplete and our minds aren’t built to weigh them all — and so we rely on mental shortcuts. He coined the term “satisficing” — a portmanteau of satisfy and suffice — to describe how we consider a limited set of options, then choose one that is good enough and move on to live our lives.
When Mr. Simon faced a decision, he considered a few alternatives, sometimes asked for advice, chose and moved on. He didn’t agonize, and he didn’t second-guess. “The best is enemy of the good” was the mantra he lived by.
Interestingly, the author touches on how the age of social media has affected this area of cognitive analysis:
This is critical today because chronic maximizing has never been easier. In 2006 an economist calculated that the consumer options available to citizens of modern economies exceeded those of preindustrial societies roughly by a factor of 100 million. That is an almost incomprehensible multiplication of choice, and it extends well beyond consumer goods into questions of who to be, how to live, where to work and whom to love.
Social media has intensified the problem by functioning as an infinite comparison engine. When you can see a curated highlight reel of everyone else’s career, relationship, home and vacation, the very concept of “good enough” begins to feel like settling.
The pull to keep searching for something better has poisoned even the most mundane moments. Research shows that giving viewers many videos to flip between makes them more bored than if they focus on just one. One way to interpret the findings is that the mere notion that something better might be out there spoils the moment.
In a similar vein, just yesterday, I came across a post on reddit aimed at older people. It showed a picture of a common clock radio from the 1980s or 1990s and asked, “Did we all have this same thing?” In a sense, we did: there were far fewer consumer choices then than now, and people had fewer ways of researching their options.
