The real world is complicated and messy. And that’s what’s great about it.

I love Edward Hopper’s works. They carry a sense of simplicity and longing that have always resonated with me.
Hopper’s paintings are often described as melancholy, a quality that stems from their sparseness of composition and the isolation of the characters depicted. But, to me, this also illustrates the opposite idea: that much of the joy and exuberance of life comes from human relationships and the fact that the world is complicated and messy.

Take a look at the image at the top of this newsletter. Nighthawks is probably Hopper’s most famous work. It’s a beautiful composition of stillness, stark lighting and characters lost in their own thoughts. And, I don’t know about you, but that’s probably the neatest, calmest diner I’ve ever seen. Think about what a real diner would be like: signs all over the walls (try our corned beef hash!), plates of food and cups of coffee in constant motion, people engaged in animated conversation and waitresses calling everybody “hon.” And that’s why I love diners.

So, here’s an important thing to remember this time of year—if you try to be too perfect, if you try to make everything just so, you’re likely to squeeze all the life out of what’s going on. The holidays are often a fraught time of year, and it doesn’t help to beat yourself up over everything not being as neat and organized as it ‘should’ be. Allow yourself to enjoy the hullabaloo that generally accompanies the holidays.

I wrote a year-end piece a few years ago about what I call ‘The Dirty Harry Principle.’ It’s about a closely related idea: knowing your limitations, being comfortable with them, and not needing to be perfect all the time, particularly this time of year. It’s a message worth a few minutes of your time.

There’s an important implication here for my field of qualitative research: don’t try to make conversations and research stimuli overly neat and orderly. Let them be kind of messy to create energy and simulate reality. For example, overly simple and clean renderings of a retail shelf set may produce misleading results because actual retail environments are so cluttered and untidy. Also, real-world conversations generally don’t involve everybody taking their turn to speak—they can be pretty chaotic. While quantitative research needs to be controlled and structured in order to generate representative and projectable data, qual doesn’t need to do that. So let the turmoil work for you.

My previous newsletter was about how decision making in the real world tends to be messy, impulsive and irrational. Decision making isn’t the only human phenomenon that’s kind of wild. We’re just a crazy species. So embrace that old adage:  God bless this mess.

Perhaps you’ve noticed we’re living in tense times

Disagreements seem to dominate the public sphere and our private lives. How we approach these differences is more urgent than you might think.

Being a qualitative researcher requires interest in, and empathy towards, the opinions and beliefs of others. It’s part of the fundamental ethos of the field. So I have a professional obligation to identify with others.

I once wrote a piece about ‘the debating society principle:’ the idea that we have a responsibility to understand opinions contrary to our own. Since then, I’ve had conversations with more than a few people who disagree with this premise. They are entirely apathetic towards different opinions and view even trying to understand such perspectives as being somehow immoral. They feel no need to agree to disagree. This has become a particularly acute issue, being that we are living in highly polarized times.

Having empathy for someone with whom you differ doesn’t require you to agree with that person. It simply asks you to respect the person and try to see things from his or her perspective.

The idea that it is OK – if not laudable – to have no interest in a point of view different from your own brings to mind the philosopher and civil rights leader Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, who once wrote that “the opposite of good is not evil; the opposite of good is indifference.” Being indifferent to the beliefs and feelings of another person strikes me as the first step toward dehumanizing that person. Once we start seeing some individuals as being less than fully human, bad things start to happen. If you’re wondering why we seem to be in a period of such profound societal and political dysfunction, perhaps this helps to explain that.

Being uninterested in the beliefs of another human being – and perhaps dismissive of that person’s fundamental humanity – puts you on a slippery slope. It places you in danger of becoming something you never wanted to (or even thought you could) be.

We’re in a particularly fraught time right now, as we’re only a few weeks from an election. No matter what your political point of view, realize that about half of your fellow citizens probably disagree with you on at least one major issue. This brings you face-to-face with a crucial choice: will you view opinions that are contrary to yours with empathy or apathy? Your own humanity may hang in the balance.

It’s not always wise to trust yourself.

In qualitative research, it’s important to enter each study with an open mind. This is one reason clients hire outsiders to do this sort of work – we are unencumbered by preexisting opinions. Clients, because they are so close to their business, tend to have firm beliefs about their brands. Often, it falls to outsiders to challenge those beliefs. This can create tension.

Human beings don’t like to have their beliefs challenged. It’s uncomfortable, and it complicates things. Certainty – considering some topics no longer up for debate – is one way we simplify matters.

My last newsletter was about critical thinking. Being able to question fundamental beliefs is an essential part of this skillset. If you’re thinking critically, you’ll be suspicious of your own opinions, particularly your strong convictions. Certainty can be the enemy of clear, logical, critical thinking.

The desire for certainty is firmly rooted in human evolution, and has served many important purposes during our history as a species:

Risk reduction – Seeking a high degree of certainty in a situation may reduce the likelihood of bad decisions. For instance, if you try to be as certain as possible that an investment won’t lose money, there’s less chance you’ll take a loss.

Persuasiveness – If you truly believe something yourself, that will come across when you try to convince somebody else.

Social cohesion – Homo sapiens is a tribal animal. In social groups, having shared firm beliefs about social norms can engender cooperation and trust. This is crucial to survival under difficult conditions.

Cognitive efficiency – Certainty conserves cognitive resources. Making decisions under uncertainty is mentally taxing. A preference for certainty simplifies decision-making, making it quicker and less resource intensive.

So, certainty is something we naturally seek. But sometimes, this instinct works against our interests. The art lies in figuring out when to re-open debate, and when to let something remain settled.

This is when it’s helpful to have a process. Here are three questions to ask when you might be overly certain about something:

1. What emotions are triggered when you entertain doubt about a belief? If you’re becoming angry or anxious, that’s a cue to push past those feelings and question this belief.

2. What evidence would need to change your position? If you can’t articulate that, that’s not a good sign. Unfalsifiable beliefs can be dangerous.

3. Can you state opposing perspectives honestly? Also, how do you feel about people who hold those opinions? If you doubt their character, can’t honestly state their position and resort to personal attacks, that’s a sign of false certainty.

So, go ahead. Make yourself uncomfortable. Get in the habit of questioning the things about which you are certain. It will help you think more clearly. And maybe you’ll even learn something new.

Want to strengthen your critical thinking skills? Write!

My profession of qualitative research, like many others, demands critical thinking. The ability to internalize data and apply it to a client’s business objectives is a foundational skill for qualitative researchers.

Is there a more fundamental skill than critical thinking? I can’t think of one. It’s tops on my list of three essential cognitive skills:

• Critical thinking

• Decision making

• Problem solving

These skills are key building blocks of success, and I plan to write more about them in upcoming posts.

If we’re going to talk about critical thinking, it’s worthwhile to define the term. I see critical thinking as encompassing three sub-skills:

Data gathering – pulling together and summarizing everything you know about a specific situation or topic.

Data assessment – evaluating information quality. This is the point at which critical thinking often breaks down. I do a lot of research in health and nutrition. Much of the data supporting nutrition claims is of dismal quality. That it’s the basis for recommendations about what we should eat may be why we are in the midst of an epidemic of chronic disease. The ability to vet information is crucial to forming valid conclusions.

Inference – understanding the potential implications of the data. What does it mean, and what, therefore, might you do?

Unless your name is Albert Einstein, you’re probably not as good at critical thinking as you could be. So, how do you get better at this crucial skill?

Write! Writing isn’t easy, which is why many of us avoid it. As historian David McCullough used to say, “Writing is thinking. To write well is to think clearly. That’s why it’s so hard.” So, when you write something out, you’re giving yourself no option but to think it through.

Writing offers some irreplaceable benefits:

It compels disciplined thinking. When you put something on paper and then read it back, if your thinking isn’t clear and logical, that will be immediately apparent.

It helps you break your analysis into manageable parts. Because we write in sentences and paragraphs, writing naturally leads you to organize your thinking.

It requires you to assess your evidence. When you match each claim you make with the data that supports it, you can see if your premise is adequately supported.

It leads you to think about implications. When you get to that concluding sentence or paragraph, it’s natural to summarize what it all means and maybe even come up with solutions and recommendations.

So, to strengthen your critical thinking, write! Write something every day. If you’re thinking about current events – or a decision you have to make – that’s the time to pick up your pen. It will help you think things through and come to better decisions.

After all, that’s one reason I write this monthly newsletter. It helps me hone my own thinking about topics that are important to me.

It’s easy. Just add fear.

There is no problem that’s so bad that you can’t make it even worse. I’ve found that fear is a great way to do that.

Don’t get me wrong; fear is a normal and healthy thing. It’s an evolved trait – the fight-or-flight response – and it wouldn’t have emerged and stuck around over 800 million years of animal evolution if it weren’t useful. But today we live in a different environment than the one in which our species evolved, and sometimes modern environmental factors don’t mesh with ancient instincts.

When fear gets out of control, bad things happen – panic, reckless decisions, freezing up, people exploiting those fears. The list goes on. People become angry, and look to place blame. This phenomenon was fully on display during the Covid pandemic. Irrational fears clearly made some aspects of this situation worse, and unscrupulous people exploited those fears.

I certainly see this as a qualitative researcher. When I interview research participants about emotionally loaded topics, such as healthcare, children, politics, or their financial situations, they sometimes seem overwhelmed with fear.

Often this fear seems to be triggered and stoked by information they get from cable news and social media – two of those modern environmental factors. I usually make a point of digging into those fears, as that can lead to important insights, but that’s a topic for a future newsletter.

Another example: I’m always a bit of a nervous wreck before I start a qualitative study. Always. This might be due to a legitimate reason – it’s a new topic for me or a new client, or maybe there’s dysfunction among the research team. In other words, there are real risks at play. In that case, I’ll think about how to prepare, and devise strategies for dealing with the risks.

But, if there’s no identifiable reason for being nervous, I just remind myself that I’m always anxious before starting a project, and not to worry about that too much. It’s normal, and natural, and it’s my friend – it keeps me sharp.

FDR got it right in 1933 – “we have nothing to fear but fear itself.” I frequently remind myself not to be afraid of being afraid. I also try to remember not to confuse fear with anxiety. They’re closely related, but definitely not the same thing. Fear is a natural, human response. Respect it and use it, but keep it in its place.