Constant Renewal https://constantrenewal.com/ Sat, 31 Jul 2021 04:57:03 +0000 en-GB hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.5.2 https://constantrenewal.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/cropped-Favicon-65x65.jpg Constant Renewal https://constantrenewal.com/ 32 32 Luke Burgis: Knowing Why We Want What We Want https://constantrenewal.com/luke-burgis-mimesis Fri, 11 Jun 2021 13:54:52 +0000 https://constantrenewal.com/?p=2669 The most important question we should be asking is not what we want, but why we want what we want. The answer to that is mimesis.

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Luke Burgis: Knowing Why We Want What We Want

One of the questions that we ask ourselves often is what we want. 

This takes many forms. From new year resolutions to weekly to-do lists, we constantly think about what we want to achieve and who we want to become. The one question that we never ask ourselves is why we want what we want. 

That’s something Luke Burgis took a long time to realise. He’d gone to business school, worked on Wall Street, founded a start-up, but realised that none of these pursuits were making him happy. The problem was that these desires weren’t truly his – they were imprinted on him through mimesis.

Mimesis makes us do things we normally wouldn’t. It makes us lie to ourselves. It makes us unhappy. It is probably the most insidious force that’s guiding our decisions in everyday life.  

Luke’s book, Wanting, is an exploration of this phenomenon. It’s an introduction to the work of Stanford professor Rene Girard, and the same time, an exploration of how we can overcome mimetic desire in everyday life. I’ve distilled the most important lessons here, but if you want to learn more about mimesis – including the role of scapegoats and free markets – you’ll definitely want to grab this book.

Table of Contents

Mimetic Theory 101

Perhaps the biggest lie around today is the lie of individuality. 

An unbelieved truth is often more dangerous than a lie. The lie in this case is the idea that I want things entirely on my own, uninfluenced by others, that I’m the sovereign king of deciding what is wantable and what is not. The truth is that my desires are derivative, mediated by others, and that I’m part of an ecology of desire that is bigger than I can fully understand.

This lie is perpetuated because it’s convenient. People get uncomfortable when they discuss mimetic theory because it challenges their identity. It’s especially telling when even contrarians like Peter Thiel refrain from exploring it in depth. 

To write about mimetic desire is to reveal a bit of your own. I ask Peter Thiel why he didn’t explicitly mention Girard in his popular business book Zero to One, even though it was packed with insights from his mentor. 

There’s something dangerous about Girard’s ideas,” Thiel says. “I think people have self- defense mechanisms against some of this stuff.” 

He wanted people to see that Girard’s insights contain important truths and that they explain what is going on in the world around them, but he didn’t want to take his readers all the way through the looking- glass.

And once you see it, you never look at the world the same way again.

Mimetic theory isn’t like learning some impersonal law of physics, which you can study from a distance. It means learning something new about your own past that explains how your identity has been shaped and why certain people and things have exerted more influence over you than others.

Mimesis Leads To Conflict

Imitation is how we learn new languages. It is how culture spreads. It is how societies develop norms so that people can live together. Which is why it’s fascinating that imitation is seen as a taboo and frowned upon. 

Nobody wants to be known as an imitator— except in very specific cases. We encourage children to imitate role models, and most artists generally recognize the value of imitating the masters. But imitation is totally taboo in other circumstances. Imagine if two friends started showing up at every social gathering wearing matching clothes; if a person who received a gift always reciprocated by giving the other person the same gift they were given; if someone constantly mimicked the accent or mannerisms of coworkers. These things would be considered strange, rude, or insulting, if not infuriating. It’s as if everyone is saying, “Imitate me— but not too much,” because while everyone’s flattered by imitation, being copied too closely feels threatening.

This fear of sameness creates strong rivalries, which then persist under the guise of a difference in opinion or values. 

When mimetic rivals are caught in a double bind, obsessed with each other, they go to any length to differentiate themselves. Their rival is a model for what not to desire. For a hipster, the rival is popular culture—he eschews anything popular and embraces what he believes to be eclectic, but he does so according to new models. 

According to Girard, “the effort to leave the beaten paths forces everyone into the same ditch.”

We’ve known this since at least the time of Shakespeare. In Romeo and Juliet, we are taught that the two lovers meet a tragic end because of the bitter rivalry between the two houses. You’d think that the two houses would be different in the same manner that the bourgeoise and proletariat are opposed, but in truth, they could not be more the same. Indeed, the opening of the play begins with these words: “Two housesholds, both alike in dignity”. 

One of his earlier students, Sandor Goodhart, now a professor at Purdue University, remembers Girard opening the very first session of his class Literature, Myth, and Prophecy with these words: “Human beings fight not because they are different, but because they are the same, and in their attempts to distinguish themselves have made themselves into enemy twins, human doubles in reciprocal violence.” 

This idea features not only in fiction, but in business as well. 

Models of desire are what make Facebook such a potent drug. Before Facebook, a person’s models came from a small set of people: friends, family, work, magazines, and maybe TV. After Facebook, everyone in the world is a potential model. Facebook isn’t filled with just any kind of model— most people we follow aren’t movie stars, pro athletes, or celebrities. Facebook is full of models who are inside our world, socially speaking. They are close enough for us to compare ourselves to them. They are the most influential models of all, and there are billions of them. Thiel quickly grasped Facebook’s potential power and became its first outside investor. “I bet on mimesis,” he told me. His $500,000 investment eventually yielded him over $1 billion. 

When people say that we’ve never been more connected, they often mean it in a positive sense. But it’s worth considering whether that’s actually true. 

We live at a time of hyper- imitation. Fascination with what is trending and going viral is symptomatic of our predicament. So is political polarization. It stems in part from mimetic behavior that destroys nuance and poisons even our most honorable goals: to develop friendships, to fight for important causes, to build healthy communities. When mimesis takes over, we become obsessed with vanquishing some Other, and we measure ourselves according to them. 

We are exposed to the same bits of information now, which is why we’ve become more culturally alike. But that leads to conflict because of the narcissism of small differences. 

Equality is good. Sameness is generally not—unless we’re talking about cars on an assembly line or the consistency of your favorite brand of coffee. The more that people are forced to be the same— the more pressure they feel to think and feel and want the same things— the more intensely they fight to differentiate themselves.

Escaping Mimetic Conflict

If you’ve wondered why seemingly small and innocent actions can lead to conflict, the answer lies in mimetic theory. 

René Girard uses the example of a handshake gone wrong to illustrate how deep-rooted mimesis is— and how it explains things we usually ascribe to simply being “reactionary.” 

There’s nothing trivial about a handshake. Say that you extend your hand to me, and I leave you hanging. I don’t imitate your ritual gesture. What happens? You become inhibited and withdraw— probably equally as much, and probably more, than you sensed I did to you. “

We suppose that there is nothing more normal, more natural than this reaction, and yet a moment’s reflection will reveal its paradoxical character,” writes Girard. “If I decline to shake your hand, if, in short, I refuse to imitate you, then you are now the one who imitates me, by reproducing my refusal, by copying me instead. Imitation, which usually expresses agreement in this case, now serves to confirm and strengthen disagreement. Once again, in other words, imitation triumphs. Here we see how rigorously, how implacably mutual imitation structures even the simplest human relations.

If mimetic conflict is driven by imitation, the fastest way to end the cycle is to stop playing the imitation game. 

Mimetic rivalries don’t end well unless one of the two parties involved renounces the rivalry. To understand why, just imagine coming out on top of a rivalry. The act of winning paradoxically brings about defeat. It signals to us that we picked the wrong model in the first place. In the purported words of Groucho Marx: “I don’t want to belong to any club that would accept me as one of its members.” And neither do we. 

When one of the two parties to a rivalry renounces the rivalry, it defuses the other party’s desire. In a mimetic rivalry, objects take on value because the rival wants them. If the rival suddenly stops wanting something, so do we. We go in search of something new. 

This requires empathy. Which is simple, but not easy. 

Empathy disrupts negative cycles of mimesis. A person who is able to empathize can enter into the experience of another person and share her thoughts and feelings without necessarily sharing her desires. An empathetic person has the ability to understand why someone might want something that they don’t want for themselves. In short, empathy allows us to connect deeply with other people without becoming like other people. 

Types of Models

If our desires are not truly ours, it’s important to know where they come from. 

Models are people or things that show us what is worth wanting. It is models— not our “objective” analysis or central nervous system— that shape our desires. With these models, people engage in a secret and sophisticated form of imitation that Girard termed mimesis (mi- mee- sis), from the Greek word mimesthai (meaning “to imitate”). 

This begs the question – why do we copy? Who do we look to for models?

We are tantalized by models who suggest a desire for things that we don’t currently have, especially things that appear just out of reach. The greater the obstacle, the greater the attraction. 

We often attribute a person’s magnetism to some objective quality about them—a manner of speaking, intelligence, tenacity, wit, or confidence. Those things help, but there is more. We are generally fascinated with people who have a different relationship to desire, real or perceived. When people don’t seem to care what other people want or don’t want the same things, they seem otherworldly. They appear less affected by mimesis— anti- mimetic, even. And that’s fascinating, because most of us aren’t. 

Some of these models are obvious. We call them “role models” – people we we admire and want to emulate. But others are less obvious. 

Take fitness. A personal trainer is more than a coach— she is a model of desire. She wants something for you that you do not yet want for yourself enough to do what you need to do.

Not all models are equal, and I don’t mean in the role model sense. Having a bad role model leads to the development of bad habits at worse. But if you have bad models of desire, you may end up trapped in a cycle of rivalry and conflict.

We’re more threatened by people who want the same things as us than by those who don’t. Ask yourself, honestly: whom are you more jealous of? Jeff Bezos, the richest man in the world? Or someone in your field, maybe even in your office, who is as competent as you are and works the same amount of hours you do but who has a better title and makes an extra $10,000 per year? It’s probably the second person. 

What you need is a model from the right category – what Luke calls Celebristan. 

Celebristan is where models live who mediate — or bring about changes in our desires — from somewhere outside our social sphere, and with whom we have no immediate and direct possibility of competing on the same basis.

In Celebristan, there is always a barrier that separates the models from their imitators. They might be separated from us by time (because dead), space (because they live in a different country or aren’t on social media), or social status (a billionaire, rock star, or member of a privileged class).  This brings us to an important feature of Celebristan models: because there’s no threat of conflict, they are generally imitated freely and openly.

And the surest way to be unhappy is to have the wrong type of model – a model from Freshmanistan. 

Models who live in Freshmanistan occupy the same social space as their imitators. We’re easily affected by what other people in Freshmanistan say or do or desire. It’s like being in our freshman year of high school, having to jostle for position and differentiate ourselves from a bunch of other people who are in the same situation. Competition is not only possible, it is the norm. And the similarity between the people competing makes the competition peculiar. 

Freshmanistan is the world of models who mediate desire from inside our world, which is why Girard calls them internal mediators of desire. There are no barriers preventing people from competing directly with one another for the same things. Between social media, globalization, and the toppling of old institutions, most of us are living nearly our entire lives in Freshmanistan. 

Picking Your Models

We’re told to run our own race, but this is hard when someone has already laid out the tracks for us. Understanding the game you’re playing is the first step to getting out of Freshmanistan.

Back in 1994, at the age of thirty- two, British chef Marco Pierre White was the youngest chef ever to be awarded three stars. In 1999, only five years later, he retired. “I gave Michelin inspectors too much respect, and I belittled myself,” he explained. “I had three options: I could be a prisoner of my world and continue to work six days a week, I could live a lie and charge high prices and not be behind the stove or I could give my stars back, spend time with my children and re- invent myself.” He was the first three- star chef in history to shut down and walk away. 

Each of us has our own version of a Michelin star system. We can easily find ourselves, like a French chef, wanting “stars”— marks of status and prestige, badges of honor. Naming the mimetic forces at work in the systems in which we operate is an important first step toward making more intentional choices. Every industry, every school, every family has a particular system of desire that makes certain things more or less desirable. Know which systems of desire you’re living in. There’s probably more than one. 

We look for models everywhere. If you can create a new model, you’ll be able to change how people behave and think –  even established norms like going to college. 

Peter Thiel instituted the Thiel Fellowship in 2011 to pay promising entrepreneurs to start businesses instead of going to college. The fellowship was able to make its value proposition attractive in part because it intentionally hacked mimetic desire: getting a fellowship was harder than getting into Harvard. (The first class of fellows had an acceptance rate of around 4 percent, and in subsequent years it went down to around 1 percent.)

Among the dropouts funded by the fellowship were brilliant, ambitious kids like Vitalik Buterin, co- creator of the decentralized open-source blockchain Ethereum, and Eden Full, inventor of a technology that enables solar panels to follow the sun. These entrepreneurs modeled something even more important than a Harvard degree to many young people; they modeled a different track.

The economic principle of reflexivity states that people don’t base their decisions on reality, but on their perceptions of reality. How they view something, including how other people might react in future, affects how they act.

People worry about what other people will think before they say something— which affects what they say. In other words, our perception of reality changes reality by altering the way we might otherwise act. This leads to a self- fulfilling circularity. 

The principle of reflexivity has been unexplored in the domain of desire. We might reformulate Soros’s definition of reflexivity like this: In situations where desirous participants have the possibility of interacting with each other, there is a two- way interaction between the participants’ desires.

This makes sense because none of us exist in a vacuum. Our lives have meaning because of shared beliefs and norms.

Many relationships are held together by mimetic bonds: between players who compete for a coach’s respect, colleagues who compete for status, and academics building out their CVs. Mimetic tension is present even in relationships that are, on the whole, healthy: between spouses, parents and children, or colleagues. Even your relationship with your best friend might be — and probably is— tinged by mimesis. Healthy competition can be good; here, we’re talking about mimetic rivalry. The key is recognizing the ways in which a relationship is marked by mimetic rivalry, and confronting them.

Mimesis and You

When people speak of being contrarian, they mean to say that they don’t follow the crowd. But that’s a low bar. All you have to do is the opposite of what everyone is doing regardless of whether it makes sense. What you really want is to be anti-mimetic; to not be affected by what other people do.

Being anti- mimetic is having the ability, the freedom, to counteract destructive forces of desire. Something mimetic is an accelerant; something anti- mimetic is a decelerant. An anti- mimetic action— or person— is a sign of contradiction to a culture that likes to float downstream. 

This isn’t something that can be achieved by external forces because there is something fundamental about human psychology that makes us look to others.  The history of Zappos tells us that much. 

Holacracy replaces traditional management hierarchies with self- organizing teams of people working on a specific project. Zappos had eliminated the management hierarchy, but they couldn’t eliminate the network of desire and the need that people have to be in relationship to models. There is always a hierarchy of desire from the perspective of an individual: some models are worth following more than others, and some things are worth wanting more than others.

We are hierarchical creatures. This is why we like listicles and ratings so much. We have a need to know how things stack up, how things fit together. To remove all semblance of hierarchy is detrimental to this fundamental need. When Zappos moved to holacracy, what disappeared aboveground— the visible roles and titles— reappeared in different ways underground. “The environment became more political,” journalist Aimee Groth, who wrote about holacracy for Quartz, told me. “People were less secure in their jobs . . . less clear on how they could hold on to their roles and their jobs. However, you still had a few people who had infinite power because they had a strong relationship with Tony.” There was a hidden web of desire that nobody could decipher.

Which is why you need to start by looking inward.

Don’t take desires at face value. Find out where they lead. Sit with competing desires and project them into the future. Let’s say you have two competing job offers: Company A and Company B. If you have two days to make the final decision, spend one day with each company in your imagination. On the first day, imagine with as much detail as possible that you’re working at Company A and fulfilling the desires that come along with that position— maybe it’s living in a new city, interacting with smart people, and being closer to your family. Pay close attention to your emotions and what’s going on inside your gut. The next day, spend the entire day doing the same thing, except at Company B. Compare.

Once you do that, you’ll find that there are intrinsic forces which drive you. Forces which would exist even if there’s no one for you to imitate. Call these thick desires.

Core motivational drives are enduring, irresistible, and insatiable. They are probably explanatory of much of your behavior since the time you were a child. Think of them as your motivational energy— the reason you consistently gravitate toward certain types of projects (team versus individual, goal- oriented versus ideation) and activities (sports, arts, theater, forms of fitness) and not others. There are patterns in your motivation. If you can put your finger on what specifically they are, then you will have taken a major step toward understanding your thick desires.

Humans understand things through stories, and the best way to understand yourself is to deconstruct your own narrative.

The best way to uncover the patterns is by sharing stories. The storytelling process that I use involves sharing stories about times in your life when you took an action that ended up being deeply fulfilling. A Fulfillment Story, as I call it, has three essential elements:

1. It’s an action. You took some concrete action and you were the main protagonist, as opposed to passively taking in an experience. As life- changing as a Springsteen concert at the Stone Pony might have been for you, it’s not a Fulfillment Story. It might be for Bruce, but not for you. Dedicating yourself to learning everything about an artist and their work, on the other hand, could be.

2. You believe you did well. You did it with excellence, you did it well— by your own estimation, and nobody else’s. You are looking for an achievement that matters to you. If you grilled what you think is a perfect rib- eye steak the other night, then you did something well and achieved something. Don’t worry about how big or small the achievement might seem to anyone else.

3. It brought you a sense of fulfillment. Your action brought you a deep sense of fulfillment, maybe even joy. Not the fleeting, temporary kind, like an endorphin rush. Fulfillment: you woke up the next morning and felt a sense of satisfaction about it. You still do. Just thinking about it brings some of it back. 

But narratives are hard to discover if you’re not looking for them, which is why we often hear about people having regrets when they’re old. It’s only on the deathbed that we finally sit still and reflect on what really matters.

We’ve all met older people who realized too late that their desires were thin— for example, a person who looked forward to retirement for decades only to find out that attaining it left them unsatisfied. That’s because the desire to retire (not widely adopted until after World War II, by the way) is a thin desire, filled with mimetically derived ideas about the things one might do, or not do, in this ideal state. The desire to invest more time with family, on the other hand, is a thick desire— and the proof is that a person can start to fulfill it today and continue to fulfill it into retirement. It grows with compound interest over many years. It has time to solidify.

What most of us do is grasp at the newest and nearest thing instead. That inevitably puts us on a path where there is no end because we don’t know what we’re looking for.

Mimetic desire manifests itself as the constant yearning to be someone or something else (what we called metaphysical desire). People select models because they think the models hold the key to a door that just might lead to the thing they have been looking for. But as we’ve seen, this metaphysical desire is a never- ending game. We cycle through models faster than we cycle through clothes. The act of winning, of gaining possession of the thing that the model made us want, convinces us that we chose the wrong model in the first place. And so we go in search of another one. Mimetic desire is a paradoxical game. Winning is how you lose. Every victory is Pyrrhic.  

There’s a saying that we must either suffer the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. Luke has a version of this for mimesis, and we’d all be happier if we remembered it.

Our choice is to yield to the mimetic forces making claims on our desire at every moment or to yield to the freedom of our single greatest desire: doing the one thing that we were made to do, all of the time, over and over and over again, until we’ve developed a desire thick enough to stake our life on. In the meantime, and probably at all times, we have something warm to sink our teeth into: wanting what we already have. 

If you liked any of this, you’ll love Luke Burgis’ new book, Wanting: The Power of Mimetic Desire in Everyday Life

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Your Biggest Fan https://constantrenewal.com/your-biggest-fan Wed, 26 May 2021 14:51:04 +0000 https://constantrenewal.com/?p=2632 One of the most surprising things I’ve learnt from writing on the Internet is that your biggest fan is likely to be someone you don’t know.  A fan is someone who’s excited by your work; a true fan is someone who will buy anything you produce. This is quite different […]

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Your Biggest Fan

One of the most surprising things I’ve learnt from writing on the Internet is that your biggest fan is likely to be someone you don’t know. 

A fan is someone who’s excited by your work; a true fan is someone who will buy anything you produce. This is quite different from a supporter, who stays around for you. Both of them may provide the resources and encouragement you need to keep going, but the distinction between the two is crucial. In fact, it’s why a complete stranger can be your biggest fan. 

Think about when something you’ve said has resonated strongly with someone else or when something someone has said has resonated with you. My guess is that in these instances, you wouldn’t have been very familiar with that person. Because resonance depends heavily on insight, and insight requires a degree of novelty, you’re unlikely to hear this from someone close to you. After all, being close to someone means that you’d have been exposed to their ideas or share a particular set of beliefs alongside them. 

For example, imagine a software engineer explaining that computers can only process information in bits. His colleagues at Facebook or Google are not going to find this interesting because it’s something they’ve learned in CS101, but someone who is new to the world of computers is going to be fascinated by this (as my friend was last week). What’s obvious to you can be amazing to others, especially if these others are people whom you have absolutely no familiarity with. 

This means that you shouldn’t let the opinion of your peers or friends stop you from doing something. When I first started writing a blog (this current one!) about personal development, I was worried that my friends would find what I wrote trite, or worse, ridiculous. But the comments and emails from the readers proved that there was at least someone who liked what I wrote, even if it wasn’t good writing. They weren’t being encouraging for the sake of it; they were excited and genuinely found value in what I wrote. I had introduced them to new ideas, even if those ideas weren’t original. 

Perhaps the most important realisation is that this lesson is not just applicable to writing, but to so many other endeavours as well. If you’re holding back from doing something because of what your friends think, just remember that in all probability you haven’t met your biggest fan yet.

And that fan is all you need to delight. 

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Nothing More Than Econ 101 https://constantrenewal.com/one-simple-idea Wed, 12 May 2021 14:14:33 +0000 https://constantrenewal.com/?p=2585 Morgan Housel once wrote that “being good at something doesn’t promise rewards.” He continues, “it doesn’t even promise a compliment”. Because what’s rewarded in the world is scarcity, he says, all that matters is what you can do that other people are bad at.  It makes sense. In fact, it’s […]

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Nothing More Than Econ 101

Morgan Housel once wrote that “being good at something doesn’t promise rewards.” He continues, “it doesn’t even promise a compliment”. Because what’s rewarded in the world is scarcity, he says, all that matters is what you can do that other people are bad at. 

It makes sense. In fact, it’s nothing more than Econ 101, where every high school student learns that price is determined by supply and demand. 

But when I read what Housel wrote, my first thought wasn’t to nod quickly in agreement. Indeed, I found this unexpected; a little harsh even. Yet it’s what you naturally get when you take the idea of limited resources and unlimited wants to its natural conclusion. 

One Simple Idea

This begs the question: how much of the world can be explained by just one simple idea? 

I think most of us would say that the answer is very little. There’s so much complexity in the world that what you need is a combination of ideas from multiple disciplines. It’s obvious when we debate something broad such as a government policy, but it’s also true in a narrower field such as physics. Not even something as ambitious as the Big Bang Theory is up to this task: it may be able to explain how the universe began and how it will end but it can’t explain why an apple fell on Newton’s head. You’d need another set of ideas for that. 

But ask how much impact one idea can make and you get the opposite answer. This tweak makes all the difference. Because you’re now no longer assessing an idea based on its explanatory value, the idea doesn’t have to hold up to scrutiny all the time. Instead, an idea can derive its value from the extent to which it rewards those who uphold it. In other words, it’s no longer just about when you’re right, but also how right you are. 

Take Warren Buffett. 

His investing philosophy can be summed up as “margin of safety”. This sounds like an oversimplification of how investing works, but that’s precisely what he’s doing when he looks for undervalued companies. Unlike VCs who swing for the fences, Buffett’s entire approach is centred around making sure that he still generates a good return even if he’s wrong about the future. 

Or how Steve Jobs approached design. His conception of design as how things work and not just how they look led to a revolution in how tech products are built, which then spilled over and influenced how design is approached everywhere. Sum it up in three words and you get a guiding principle that can be described as “function over form”, which again seems to be an oversimplification of what’s really going on. Yet, that’s the essence behind the design revolution that we’ve witnessed in the past decade. 

What’s surprising about all these is that ideas are not only simple, but general as well. They’re broad enough that you’d dismiss them as empty platitudes whose only place is in fortune cookies, and not something that you’d build your life’s work around. But as Paul Graham says, the most valuable insights are those which are general and surprising. You make these simple ideas valuable by not only invoking them in the broad general sense, but by applying them seriously in a narrow context and not just as an afterthought. 

The kind of serious where you bet your entire career on it. 

Usefulness, Not Accuracy

One objection is that focusing on one idea leads to tunnel vision. After all, doesn’t the saying go that a man who is good with a hammer sees everything as a nail? You couldn’t possibly get a complete understanding of the world if you just focused on one thing. 

Yet, this misses the point. It assumes that we’re concerned with accuracy, but it’s really usefulness that we’re interested in. Additional inputs that don’t help us to make better decisions only add to the noise and draw our attention away from things that matter, which is why it makes sense to filter out details that are of little relevance. Indeed, our brain already does this by ignoring our nose even when it’s in our field of vision. Otherwise we’d be dealing with an additional visual element every minute we’re awake that serves no purpose. 

Focusing on one simple idea also has the additional benefit that it provides a North Star we can follow. Imagine that you’re Warren Buffett and you have to decide whether to invest in a company like Uber which has consistently been unprofitable. All you have to do is ask whether you have room for things to go wrong and still turn a profit from your investment. It’s shockingly simple. It’s true that you’d have missed out on the biggest tech investments in the past decade, but you’d still have an 80 year investing track record that everybody is envious of. Pareto’s Principle comes to mind here: because 80% of your results comes from 20% of what you do, you can afford to get 80% of the things you do wrong, so long as you really nail down the 20%. And let us not forget this principle itself is one of those simple ideas. 

Finding Your One Simple Idea

Of course, the real difficulty lies in finding an idea you can use. Not only must this idea have real substance, but it also has to be something that you’d be willing to take seriously. “Move fast and break things” might be a good motto to steal if you work at a tech company, but it’s unlikely to work for you if you’ve spent your entire career as a civil servant. 

How then do you figure out what one idea works for you? The world of startups offer a clue here. When VCs invest in a startup, they often ask whether there is founder-market fit. The question is essentially whether the founder is the right person to tackle the problem their startup aims to solve, and to do that, they look at the founder’s interests and experience. The fit is typically found when a founder has faced the problem repeatedly or has the right skills to solve it. 

I think the same approach works here as well. Call it Idea-Individual fit. 

If you look back at your past experiences, there’re probably ideas that you’ve used to guide your decision making, whether consciously or unconsciously. For example, a highly extroverted student who got through high school or college by making friends and asking for help might think that “it’s not what you know, but who you know”. If so, it’s not hard to imagine that this person could do well in the professional world by building a highly diverse network. 

Or perhaps you hold certain strong beliefs. Oftentimes, this is a belief that isn’t held in isolation, but one that is connected with other beliefs as well. By pooling them together and then comparing them, you can extract ideas that you’ve internalised so well that you don’t even notice the common thread that runs between them. Indeed, what you find may surprise you. 

The trick is to not dismiss whatever idea you find because it’s not grand or complicated enough. In fact, chances are that it will be underwhelming. But that’s fine because all progress starts from a simple idea, and following something that seems obvious may lead to unexpected outcomes. 

That’s the nature of most things: nothing more than Econ 101. 

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When Efficiency Isn’t The Point https://constantrenewal.com/efficiency Wed, 28 Apr 2021 14:44:14 +0000 https://constantrenewal.com/?p=2487 Pillsbury started making instant cake mix in the 1940s, but it didn't sell very well. You couldn't explain that if you considered only efficiency.

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When Efficiency Isn’t The Point

Pillsbury started making instant cake mix in the 1940s, but it didn’t sell very well.
 
This didn’t make any sense. The mix made things easier. All you had to do was add water and you had something you could eat. Executives at the company thought they had a better product than competitors because they made things more convenient.
 
Then Ernest Dichter came along. His realisation was that making a cake is not mere drudgery. Cakes held meaning. They showed love. And the women who baked cakes didn’t feel that they were investing enough emotion when they used the mix.
 
Pillsbury listened to Dichter. They abandoned the original plan to have a mix complete with all the ingredients and took the eggs out. Sales soared, and they never looked back.
Cake mixes have come a long way since then. A quick Google search tells you that there are probably hundreds of flavours available, and you can even use them for things outside baking. But the one thing that has remained true is that unlike instant noodles, you can’t just add water and let heat do the rest of the work. You need to put in more effort than that. 
 
There’s a lot in the world that follows the same pattern. You’d think that with modern technology, there’d be no more inefficiency because we’d have a quicker and cheaper way to do things. But this line of reasoning assumes that everything is built around efficiency. 
 
Relationships are the best example of where this premise falls apart. Take the social ritual of gift giving. It seems entirely inefficient and ridiculous that we should know what to get someone. Just ask Sheldon Cooper. But that’s precisely what makes this ritual valuable. The fact that we have to painstakingly consider what someone might like — and that no one else will — is a signal that we value that person. Thoughtful is the word we use, but what we really mean is that we appreciate that someone thinks we’re worth going through this tedious process. 
 
You could never explain this if all you considered was efficiency.  
 
You couldn’t explain why male peacocks have bright tail feathers, why some people might spend thousands of dollars on a luxury watch when a Casio tells time better, or why companies continue to buy billboards when they could better reach potential customers through Facebook ads. 
 
Or why someone might decide to run a marathon. Why someone might spend hours discussing a topic that has no practical impact on their lives. Or why they might write a post like this. 
 
There’s signalling. Standing up for principle. Appreciating the nature and beauty that is around us. Self-fulfillment. And just about a hundred other reasons why we might do something. 
 
Efficiency isn’t always the point. 
 

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Made to Stick by Chip and Dan Heath: Book Summary, Review, Notes https://constantrenewal.com/made-to-stick Mon, 18 Jan 2021 16:49:20 +0000 https://constantrenewal.com/?p=2336 You can make your message stick around longer by keeping it simple, unexpected, concrete, credible, emotional, and with stories.

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The Book In A Single Sentence

You can make your message stick around longer by keeping it simple, unexpected, concrete, credible, emotional, and with stories.

Personal Thoughts

This is one of those classic pop psychology books (in a good way). Chip and Dan Heath are the best marketing professors around, and they’ve translated their academic research into something fun to read.

The book can be summed up with the acronym SUCCESS: use Simple, Unexpected, Concrete, Credible, Emotional, StorieS. You can see that the Heath brothers walk the talk – they’ve tried to make these ideas stick as well. Every bit is intentional.

Get Made to Stick on Amazon. 

Book Notes

Keep it Simple, Stupid

  • “No plan survives contact with the enemy”
  • It’s hard to make ideas stick in a noisy, unpredictable, chaotic environment. If we’re to succeed, the first step is to find the core of an idea.
  • Commander’s Intent (CI) is a crisp, plain-talk statement that appears at the top of every Army order, specifying the plan’s goal, the desired end-state of an operation. The CI never specifies so much detail that it risks being rendered obsolete by unpredictable events; it aligns the behaviour of soldiers at all levels without requiring play-by-play instructions from their leaders.
  • Southwest Airlines is guided by Herb Kelleher’s CI – to be the THE low-fare airline. When surveys indicate that passengers might want a chicken Caesar salad, and all the airline offers is peanuts, it’s easy to make a decision. The question is simple – “will adding a chicken salad make the airline THE low-fare airline?”
  • The inverted pyramid structure – communicate the most important information at the start and present everything else in decreasing order of importance. Journalists use this to communicate so that readers get the message regardless of their attention span. If news stories were written like mysteries, everyone would miss the point.
  • “If you say three things, you don’t say anything.”
  • Forced prioritisation – decide what is the most important and make sure you’re willing to give up everything that is less important for it (you can learn more about this idea in Essentialism)
  • Why do remote controls have more buttons than we ever use? Feature creep is an innocent process. An engineer looking at a prototype of a remote control might think to himself, “hey, there’s some real estate here on the face of the control” and decide that users might want to have an extra function.
  • Schema is a collection of generic properties of a concept or category; it consists of lots of prerecorded information stored in our memories. Instead of describing how a pomelo tastes or looks, you might describe it as “basically a supersized grapefruit with a very thick and soft rind”.
  • Some analogies are so useful that they don’t merely shed light on a concept, they actually become platforms for novel thinking.

Do Something Unexpected

  • The first problem of communication is getting people’s attention. Some communicators have the authority to demand attention. Most of the time, though, we can’t demand attention; we must attract it.
  • Our brain is designed to be keenly aware of changes. Smart product designers are well aware of this tendency. They make sure that when products require users to pay attention, something changes.
  • Surprise gets our attention. Interests keeps our attention. We can’t succeed if our messages don’t break through the clutter to get people’s attention. Furthermore, our messages are usually complex enough that we won’t succeed if we can’t keep people’s attention.
  • Emotions are elegantly tuned to help us deal with critical situations. They prepare us for different ways of acting and thinking. We’ve all heard that anger prepares us to fight and fear prepares us to flee. Emotion is also linked to behaviour. A secondary effect of being angry is that we become more certain of our judgements. When we’re angry, we know we’re right, as anyone who has been in a relationship can attest.
  • Surprise jolts us to attention. Surprise is triggered when our schemas fail, and it prepares us to understand why the failure occurred. When our guessing machines fail, surprise grabs our attention so that we can repair them for the future.
  • Surprise causes us to behave in certain ways. In addition to making our eyebrows rise, surprise causes our jaws to drop and out mouths to gape. We’re struck momentarily speechless. Our bodies temporarily stop moving and our muscles go slack. It’s as though our bodies want to ensure that we’re not talking or moving when we ought to be taking in new information. So surprise acts as a kind of emergency override when we confront something unexpected and our guessing machines fail.
  • Unexpected ideas are more likely to stick because surprise makes us pay attention and think. That extra attention and thinking sears unexpected events into our memories.
  • Here is the bottom line for our everyday purposes: If you want your ideas to be stickier, you’ve got to break someone’s guessing machine and then fix it.
  • Common sense is the enemy of sticky messages. When messages sound like common sense, they float gently in one ear and out the other. If I already intuitively “get” what you’re trying to tell me, why should I obsess about remembering it? The danger, of course, is that what sounds like common sense often isn’t.
  • The “Gap Theory” of curiosity – curiosity happens when we feel a gap in our knowledge. When we want to know something but don’t, it’s like having an itch that we need to scratch. To take away the pain, we need to fill the knowledge gap. One important implication of the gap theory is that we need to open gaps before we close them. Our tendency is to tell people the facts. First, though, they must realise that they need these facts. The trick to convincing people that they need our message is to first highlight some specific knowledge that they’re missing.
  • As we gain information we are more and more likely to focus on what we don’t know. Someone who knows the state capitals of 17 of 50 states may be proud of her knowledge. But someone who knows 47 may be more likely to think of herself as not knowing 3 capitals.

Make Abstract Ideas Concrete

  • Aesop authored some of the stickiest stories in world history. The fable would not have survived for more than 2,5000 years if it didn’t reflect some profound truth about human nature. This truth is especially sticky because of the way it was encoded. The concrete images evoked by the fable – the grapes, the fox, the dismissive comment about sour grapes – allowed its message to persist. One suspects that the life span of Aesop’s ideas would have been shorter if they’d been encoded as Aesop’s Helpful Suggestions – “Don’t be such a bitter jerk when you fail”.
  • Language is often abstract, but life is not abstract. Abstraction makes it harder to understand an idea and to remember it. Concreteness helps us avoid these problems.
  • Abstraction is the luxury of the expert. If you’ve got to teach an idea to a room full of people, and you aren’t certain what they know, concreteness is the only safe language.
  • If concreteness is so powerful, why do we slip so easily into abstraction? The reason is simple: because the difference between an expert and a novice is the ability to think abstractly. Biology students try to remember whether reptiles lay eggs or not. Biology teachers think in terms of the grand system of animal taxonomy.
  • Novices perceive concrete details as concrete details. Experts perceive concrete details as symbols of patterns and insights that they have learned through years of experience. They want to talk about chess strategies, not about bishops moving diagonally. This is where the Curse of Knowledge sets itself: people who know more want to talk on a higher level.
  • Being concrete isn’t hard, and doesn’t require a lot of effort. The barrier is simply forgetfulness – we forget that we’re slipping into abstract speak. We forget that other people don’t know what we know. We’re the engineers who keep flipping back to our drawings, not noticing that the assemblers just want us to follow them down to the factory floor and see what has gone wrong.

Credibility Matters

  • Science is science, but thanks to basic human snobbery, we tend to think it will emerge from some places but not others.
  • What makes people believe ideas? We believe because our parents or our friends believe. We believe because we’ve had experiences that led us to our beliefs. We believe because of our religious faith. We believe because we trust authorities.
  • When we think of authorities who can add credibility, we tend to think of two kinds of people. The first kind is the expert – the kind of person whose wall is covered with credentials. The second kind are made up of celebrities and other aspirational figures.
  • Why do we care that Michael Jordan likes McDonald’s? We care because we want to be like Mike, and if Mike likes McDonald’s, so do we. We trust the recommendations of people whom we want to be like.
  • We can tap on the credibility of anti-authorities. Telling stories using real people can be a compelling way. A citizen of the modern world, constantly inundated with messages, learns to develop skepticism about the sources of those messages. Who’s behind these messages? Should I trust them? What do they have to gain if I believe them? The takeaway is that it can be the honesty and trustworthiness of our sources, not their status, that allows them to act as authorities.
  • Internal Credibility Boost #1: Use vivid details. A person’s knowledge of details is often a good proxy for her expertise. Think of how a history buff can quickly establish credibility by telling an interesting Civil War anecdote. But concrete details don’t just lend credibility to the authorities who provide them; they lend credibility to the idea itself. By making a claim tangible and concrete, details make it seem more real, more believable.
  • Internal Credibility Boost #2: Use statistics. Statistics help, but they tend to be eye-glazing. The Human-Scale Principle is useful here: a way to bring statistics to life is to contextualise them in terms that are more human, more everyday. Statistics aren’t inherently helpful; it’s the scale and context that makes them so.
  • Internal Credibility Boost #3: Pass the Sinatra Test. In Frank Sinatra’s classic, “New York, New York”, he sings about thinking a new life in New York City, and the chorus declares, “If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere”. An example passes the Sinatra Test when one example alone is enough to establish credibility in a given domain. Extraordinary power is created when this test is passed because the stickiness comes from its concreteness rather than from numbers or authority

Emotion Beats Logic

  • Mother Teresa: “If I look at the mass, I will never act. If I look at the one, I will.” Use an emotional story instead of statistics.
  • Drop in the bucket effect: someone who hears about an African child is more likely to donate than someone who hears statistics on hunger in Africa. The latter knows that they’re unlikely to make a difference. If you combine both the emotional story and the statistic, it still does worse than the story alone because logic overpowers emotion.
  • Semantic stretch: each word stands for a certain concept and evokes a certain feeling; you can associate an idea or product with those words. The easiest way to make someone care is to form an association between that thing and something they care about.
  • When your father calls something cool, coolness loses its punch. The fastest way for a parent to get their child to stop using it a word is to use it constantly.
  • You have to fight semantic stretch when an idea has been used in so many ways that it no longer means anything.
  • Maslow was wrong: Maslow’s hierarchy of needs isn’t a real hierarchy. If that was the case, the world would have no starving artists. The truth is that we pursue several needs all at once, from basic needs such as food and protection all the way to self-actualisation.   
  • Self-esteem is a big part of self interest. Those surveyed found that self-esteem mattered more to them than a physical need like a mortgage payment or security in having extra money in the bank. But when asked about how others would feel, they thought that physical needs and security would matter more to them. It explains a lot about how incentives are poorly structured in large organisations. 

Stories

  • Stories are told and retold because they contain wisdom. Stories are effective teaching tools. They show how context can mislead people to make the wrong decisions. Stories illustrate casual relationships that people hadn’t recognised before and highlight unexpected, resourceful ways in which people have solved problems. 
  • A story’s power is twofold: it provides simulation and inspiration. It teaches us how to act and gives us the motivation to do so. 
  • A three part act: A credible idea makes people believe. An emotional idea makes people care. An idea weaved into a story makes people act.
  • A story with details is more interesting than an arc without one. It has built-in drama that lets listeners play along and mentally test how they would’ve handled the situation. They are part entertainment and part instruction. When children say “tell me a story”, they’re begging for entertainment, not instruction. 
  • If someone ignores your idea all along, then tells you that you aren’t doing enough after your ten minute presentation, you might think, “this is horrible, they’ve stolen your idea”. But you should really be thinking “how wonderful, they’ve stolen my idea, it’s become their idea!”. That’s how you know you’ve really made an idea stick. That’s Stephen Denning’s lesson from working at the World Bank.
  • Springboard stories are stories that change how people see an existing problem. They tell people about possibilities. They combat skepticism and create buy-in. They involve people with the idea and invite participation as opposed to arguments which invite judgement, debate, and criticism. The way you deliver a message is a cue to how people should react.  
 

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