So, did you enjoy the recent election and the campaign that preceded it? I know I did (not!).

But I can’t deny it was interesting. If nothing else, we got to see decision making in all its pathological glory.
As a qualitative researcher, a lot of my work involves decision making. Clients often need to understand how people choose among alternatives. For instance, understanding how taxpayers choose among tax prep approaches can help a provider of tax tools design an appropriate range of service offerings.

So, I know a thing or two about decision making. One thing I know is how messy it can be.

Decision making is thought of as a process of choosing among options based on analysis and reasoning. Occasionally, that’s actually what it is. It would be nice to think that we consider all available information and make rational judgements. However, it’s usually the other way around.

Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt’s research shows that people tend to form beliefs and make decisions quickly and impulsively, frequently based on intuitive moral judgments. Afterwards, they back into a rationalization. This seems to be particularly the case when it comes to politics, which has become little more than a public morality play.

During political campaigns, voters of all persuasions form quick impressions of candidates and issues based on moral considerations – their intuitive sense of right and wrong – and vote accordingly. Questions to these voters about their decisions receive rational, after-the-fact explanations. But these justifications are unreliable, as they rarely get to the moral motivations behind these decisions.

So, if you’re struggling to understand why people vote as they do, realize that their decisions are probably based on different moral priorities than yours. Right now, the news media is putting out pat explanations for why voters acted as they did in the recent election. Be skeptical – the truth is far less tidy.

Decision making in the real world is messy. It isn’t what we’d like to think it is, and it doesn’t work the way we’d like to think it does. It’s not a neat, linear process that always yields good choices. And don’t think that this applies to everyone but you – you’re no more rational than anybody else.

So, why do we make decisions so impulsively? Look no further than evolution. The world in which we evolved was much simpler than our current one. The decisions we faced were also simpler, and being able to make decisions quickly was essential. This pattern of rapid decision making – which served us so well in ancient times – doesn’t work well in our modern and increasingly complicated environment.

So, when you face decisions, remember that your own evolved brain may not be perfectly suited to the task. Be skeptical of your initial instincts and force yourself to think things through. You might find yourself making better choices.

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.

Laughter can be a powerful tool.

When beginning focus groups or interviews, it’s necessary to inform participants that the session is being recorded. My explanation for this is that “I’m too lazy to take notes.” This generally gets a bit of a laugh. But this lame joke also serves a purpose. The beginning of qualitative research can be nerve-wracking, for both participants and researcher. Humor can help dissipate some of the anxiety.

Humor is a useful tool in many situations, and it serves some important purposes:

It lightens the mood. When people are in an unfamiliar situation, they get anxious. Humor releases tension and can defuse that apprehension.

It enables candor. A little humor can demonstrate that you’re not worried about anything anybody might say, suggesting others shouldn’t worry either.

It lowers the stakes.  Qualitative research is often seen by participants as being ‘important’ and ‘serious.’ And they’re right. I’ve never worked on a study that wasn’t of crucial importance and to be taken seriously. However, this perception can work against participants relaxing and saying what they really think. If people are trying to say the ‘right’ thing, or worried about saying something ‘wrong’, they’re unlikely to be honest.

Why is humor so effective in facilitating honest interactions? Because it’s both subversive and transgressive. Subversive because it can be contrary to cultural norms. Transgressive because it can cross the boundaries created by those norms. So, humor can create that ‘just us chickens’ vibe that can be so valuable.

For example, ethics require qualitative researchers to disclose that colleagues are observing the research. Knowing they’re being observed could make people a bit uncomfortable. So, when making this disclosure, I often will make a joke at the expense of the observers such as “we put them on the other side of the mirror because they’re kind of funny-looking.”

The key thing about humor, particularly in professional or business settings, is to know exactly why you’re using it. Don’t just make a joke for the sake of being funny. Whether it’s to build rapport, boost morale or defuse conflict, be sure you have a purpose in mind.

And beware of the risks. There’s always a possibility you could say something others might find unprofessional or offensive, despite your intentions, so make sure the potential rewards outweigh the risks. Here are a few guidelines I follow:

Know your audience. Understand their sensitivities and cultural backgrounds.

Consider the context. Make sure humor is appropriate for the setting.

Avoid controversial topics. ‘Nuff said.

Assess reactions. Be ready to pull the rip cord if a joke seems to be falling flat.

So, go ahead. Let yourself be funny. Just don’t do it thoughtlessly.