When Less Really Is More

Published March 2008


Yesterday I came across an article written by Indian columnist Shoba Narayan on The Wall Street Journal's lifestyle section. Entitled "The Secret Of Our Happiness", Narayan writes about one interesting facet of globalization in that people aren't so different after all when it comes to making decisions, race and geography aside. 

She quotes psychologist Barry Schwartz, author of The Paradox of Choice; When Less Is More, a book which examines the pitfalls of having too many choices and strengthens my personal belief in that age old adage. Narayan also offers up an honest interpretation of her own life experiences. Lebanese food in Prague was a favorite of hers, namely because the charm of it all was due to the fact that she was not allowed to order or make a decision on what she wanted to eat. Plates of food appeared on the table and she ate what she was presented with. And the somewhat daunting task of navigating the ordering of a foreign meal in an already foreign place was safely removed. 

She also writes of dining in Kyoto and placing ones palate in the highly capable hands of master chefs. “Omakase onegaishimasu” ("please do me the favor") gives the chef total carte blanche of deciding your menu for you, and can work itself out to be quite a sophisticated affair. 

Writes Narayan, 'Say, you go into a wine store in interior Maharashtra. There are only three types of wine available and you pick up a bottle. It’s okay wine but what did you expect? You end up satisfied. Instead, let’s say you go to a wine shop in Paris or in San Francisco. For any wine that you care for—be it Merlot or Chardonnay—there are 2,000 choices. You pick up a bottle but you are always left with a niggling dissatisfaction. What if the other bottles that you discarded were better?'

In his book Schwartz identifies two main types of people ; the satisficers and the maximizers. Satisficers are those who make decisions based on simple rationale and probably shrug a lot. Maximizers are those who put a lot of thought and detail into their decision-making, thereby doing their homework, in a manner of speaking. 
An example of this would be if one were to want to buy a nondescript household item, a vacuum cleaner maybe. A satisficer would head to one appropriate retail outlet, check out the price and the suitability of the product and buy it. 

The maximizer would visit several relevant retail outlets, comparing brands, pricing, value for money and collect this information before making their purchase. 

I can safely attest to being a satisficer. And yes I shrug a lot. Too many decisions intimidate me. I don't want to thumb through a 30 page menu trying to ask myself what it is I feel like having for lunch. I'd like a recommendation, thanks. 
I'd rather not be exposed to the detailed gobbledygook on the newest iPod. All I'm interested in is how many songs it can store.

Choices. Options. Preferences. Offer a person too many of these and you are headed for muddled disaster. 

An article in The New Yorker addresses consumer habits in terms of cognitive discord. Research done in the 1950s indicates that individuals who bought a new car would avoid reading advertisements or similar write-ups on other makes of automobiles, in an attempt to avoid the stress of 'post-purchase misgivings'. A habit that I am sure is still practiced heavily today.

Buyers remorse is something that is clearly evident. Ever tried to decide on a particular brand of camera, computer or other techie apparatus? With all the choices that we are given today it makes an important purchasing decision extremely difficult with the weighing up of a ton of pros and cons. And even the seemingly simple act of walking into a cafe and ordering a coffee has become a highbrow art form in itself. You have to decide on a particular blend. Milk, cream or soy. White sugar, brown sugar, artificial sweeteners and even (should you want it) honey.
Then you have to decide on the type of coffee. A thick cappuccino with lashings of caramel. A nice, strong solo macchiato. The frothy richness of an old fashioned latte. The punch-packing espresso.

And once all of that has been processed you get the fun, fun task of selecting the size of the concoction.

Studies have shown that when people are given a fair number of choices, they make their selections intelligently as opposed to being given unlimited options which would become confusing - and therefore be damaging to ones decision making abilities. 

Freedom of choice becomes detrimental instead of being liberating. When having to deal with making a decision, human nature dictates that we are bound to feel pangs of pre-remorse jitters. That usually brings along with it a level of stress and anxiety - though most of us would be hard pressed to admit to this, thanks to years of mental conditioning and convincing ourselves that we do indeed value and require as many options as possible. 

In all honesty, are we really developed enough to make consciously good decisions when faced with too many? It is a dog-eat-dog world out there and life is hard enough as is without having to seriously ponder the small details. Too much information can very easily lead to overloading and brain fizzling. 

In related readings I came across a term for defining the pursuit of happiness accurately ; The Hedonistic Treadmill.  Originally coined in 1971 by Brickman and Campbell, this term was conceptualized further by British psychologist Michael Eysenck who stated that happiness levels among humans were usually predisposed and leaned towards genetics. He also proposed that high levels of happiness were never permanent. 

Happiness readings rise and fall constantly and it surprised me to note that what I initially thought would make an average person happy in fact only gave them a temporary sense of that. 
A good example of this is lottery winners. Those who have received large financial windfalls report their happiness peaking and then returning to the same previous levels after a year. This strengthens the notion that money does not bring happiness, but it should be said that it doesn't necessarily hurt either.