By Malcom Gladwell
And excellent book on thinking without thinking…too
much. In another word; intuition
thinking with your gut, hence the phrase “what does you gut say.” Another word that comes out in the book:
instinct. Taking a thin slice of the
decision to make, and making it. A very
high percentage, it’s the right decision.
In summary, don’t over think.
In the beginning of the book, professors run a test on married
young couples and with observation of a 10 minute conversation between the
couple, they can predict which marriages will end up in divorce. Later in the book, the reader learns that “thin
slicing” becomes more accurate with age.
This comes with a positive spin on the merit of prejudice. With age one becomes more proficient in ‘gut’
decisions.
Twice in the book it refers the reader to military
situations. Early on with a Middle East
war game and then in the end with a Civil War battle, whereby the losers of the
battles were extremally well planned and the winners were commanded by ‘cowboy’
commanders who made decisions from the
gut. Those gut decisions were
instinctive rather than rational. And the
point stressed is the instinctive decision made by the ‘cowboy’ commanders were
made without a complete picture of the battlefield.
The message is trust your gut, but don’t stop thinking
Notes:
1.
…intuitive repulsion,” they were absolutely
right. In the first two seconds of looking—in a single glance—"
2.
…our brain uses two very different strategies to
make sense of the situation. The first is the one we’re most familiar with.
It’s the conscious strategy. We think about what we’ve learned, and eventually
we come up with an answer. This strategy is logical and definitive.
3.
The second strategy was the path taken by Evelyn
Harrison and Thomas Hoving and the Greek scholars. They didn’t weigh every
conceivable strand of evidence. They considered only what could be gathered in
a glance. Their thinking was what the cognitive psychologist Gerd Gigerenzer
likes to call “fast and frugal”
4.
This new notion of the adaptive unconscious is
thought of, instead, as a kind of giant computer that quickly and quietly
processes a lot of the data we need in order to keep functioning as human
beings
5.
Then Ambady compared those snap judgments of
teacher effectiveness with evaluations of those same professors made by their
students after a full semester of classes, and she found that they were also
essentially the same. A person watching a silent two-second video clip of a
teacher he or she has never met will reach conclusions about how good that
teacher is that are very similar to those of a student who has sat in the
teacher’s class for an entire semester. That’s the power of our adaptive
unconscious.
6.
The first task of Blink is to convince you of a
simple fact: decisions made very quickly can be every bit as good as decisions
made cautiously and deliberately
7.
Our unconscious is a powerful force. But it’s
fallible. It’s not the case that our internal computer always shines through,
instantly decoding the “truth” of a situation. It can be thrown off,
distracted, and disabled. Our instinctive reactions often have to compete with
all kinds of other interests and emotions and sentiments. So, when should we
trust our instincts, and when should we be wary of them? Answering that
question is the second task of Blink.
8.
The third and most important task of this
book is to convince you that our snap judgments and first impressions can be
educated and controlled.
9.
Blink is concerned with the very smallest
components of our everyday lives—the content and origin of those instantaneous
impressions and conclusions that spontaneously arise whenever we meet a new
person
10. Thin-slicing”
refers to the ability of our unconscious to find patterns in situations and
behavior based on very narrow slices of experience.
11. Thin-slicing
is part of what makes the unconscious so dazzling. But it’s also what we find
most problematic about rapid cognition. How is it possible to gather the
necessary information for a sophisticated judgment in such a short time? The
answer is that when our unconscious engages in thin-slicing, what we are doing
is an automated, accelerated unconscious version of what Gottman does with his
videotapes and equations. Can a marriage really be understood in one sitting?
Yes it can, and so can lots of other seemingly complex situations. What Gottman
has done is to show us how.
12. What
Gottman is saying is that a relationship between two people has a fist as well:
a distinctive signature that arises naturally and automatically. That is why a
marriage can be read and decoded so easily, because some key part of human
activity—whether it is something as simple as pounding out a Morse code message
or as complex as being married to someone—has an identifiable and stable
pattern. Predicting divorce, like tracking Morse Code operators, is pattern
recognition. “People are in one of two states in a relationship,” Gottman went
on. “The first is what I call positive sentiment override, where positive
emotion overrides irritability. It’s like a buffer. Their spouse will do
something bad, and they’ll say, ‘Oh, he’s just in a crummy mood.’ Or they can
be in negative sentiment override, so that even a relatively neutral thing that
a partner says gets perceived as negative. In the negative sentiment override
state, people draw lasting conclusions about each other. If their spouse does
something positive, it’s a selfish person doing a positive thing. It’s really
hard to change those states, and those states determine whether when one party.
13. Four
Horsemen: defensiveness, stonewalling, criticism, and contempt. Even within the
Four Horsemen, in fact, there is one emotion that he considers the most
important of all: contempt. If Gottman observes one or both partners in a
marriage showing contempt toward the other, he considers it the single most
important sign that the marriage is in trouble.
14. When
a patient has a bad medical result, the doctor has to take the time to explain
what happened, and to answer the patient’s questions—to treat him like a human
being. The doctors who don’t are the ones who get sued.” It isn’t necessary,
then, to know much about how a surgeon operates in order to know his likelihood
of being sued. What you need to understand is the relationship between that
doctor and his patients.
15. the
ability of an art expert to look at the Getty kouros and know, instantly, that
it’s a fake. Something in the way the tennis players hold themselves, or the
way they toss the ball, or the fluidity of their motion triggers something in
his unconscious. He instinctively picks up the “giss” of a double fault. He
thin-slices some part of the service motion and—blink!—he just knows. But
here’s the catch: much to Braden’s frustration, he simply cannot figure out how
he knows.
16. Snap
judgments are, first of all, enormously quick: they rely on the thinnest slices
of experience. But they are also unconscious.
17. think
that approach is a mistake, and if we are to learn to improve the quality of
the decisions we make, we need to accept the mysterious nature of our snap
judgments. We need to respect the fact that it is possible to know without
knowing why we know and accept that—sometimes—we’re better off that way.
18. Even
more impressive, however, is how mysterious these priming effects are. When you
took that sentence-completion test, you didn’t know that you were being primed
to think “old.” Why would you? The clues were pretty subtle. What is striking,
though, is that even after people walked slowly out of the room and down the
hall, they still weren’t aware of how their behavior had been affected. Bargh
once had people play board games in which the only way the participants could
win was if they learned how to cooperate with one another. So he primed the
players with thoughts of cooperativeness, and sure enough, they were far more
cooperative, and the game went far more smoothly.
19. What
my research with priming race and test performance, and Bargh’s research with
the interrupters, and Maier’s experiment with the ropes show is that people are
ignorant of the things that affect their actions, yet they rarely feel
ignorant. We need to accept our ignorance and say ‘I don’t know’ more often.
20. Because
everyone in that room had not one mind but two, and all the while their
conscious mind was blocked, their unconscious was scanning the room, sifting
through possibilities, processing every conceivable clue. And the instant it
found the answer, it guided them —silently and surely—to the solution.
21. In
the previous chapter, I wrote about the experiments conducted by John Bargh in
which he showed that we have such powerful associations with certain words (for
example, “Florida,” “gray,” “wrinkles,” and “bingo”) that just being exposed to
them can cause a change in our behavior. I think that there are facts about
people’s appearance—their size or shape or color or sex—that can trigger a very
similar set of powerful associations. Many people who looked at Warren Harding
saw how extraordinarily handsome and distinguished-looking he was and jumped to
the immediate—and entirely unwarranted—conclusion that he was a man of courage
and intelligence and integrity.
22. The
Warren Harding error is the dark side of rapid cognition. It is at the root of
a good deal of prejudice and discrimination. It’s why picking the right
candidate for a job is so difficult and why, on more occasions than we may care
to admit, utter mediocrities sometimes end up in positions of enormous
responsibility. Part of what it means to take thin-slicing and first
impressions seriously is accepting the fact that sometimes we can know more
about someone or something in the blink of an eye than we can after months of
study. But we also have to acknowledge and understand those circumstances when
rapid cognition leads us astray.
23. you’d
like to try a computerized IAT, you can go to www.implicit.harvard.edu.
24. or
the fight for civil rights, this is the kind of discrimination that we usually
refer to. But the IAT measures something else. It measures our second level of
attitude, our racial attitude on an unconscious level—the immediate, automatic
associations that tumble out before we’ve even had time to think. We don’t
deliberately choose our unconscious attitudes. And as I wrote about in the
first chapter, we may not even be aware of them.
25. The
IAT is more than just an abstract measure of attitudes. It’s also a powerful
predictor of how we act in certain kinds of spontaneous situations. If you have
a strongly pro-white pattern of associations, for example, there is evidence
that that will affect the way you behave in the presence of a black person.
It’s not going to affect what you’ll choose to say or feel or do. In all
likelihood, you won’t be aware that you’re behaving any differently than you
would around a white person. But chances are you’ll lean forward a little less,
turn away slightly from him or her, close your body a bit, be a bit less
expressive, maintain less eye contact, stand a little farther away, smile a lot
less, hesitate and stumble over your words a bit more, laugh at jokes a bit
less. Does that matter? Of course it does. Suppose the conversation is a job
interview. And suppose the applicant is a black man. He’s going to pick up on
that uncertainty and distance, and that may well make him a little less certain
of himself, a little less confident, and a little less friendly. And what will
you think then? You may well get a gut feeling that the applicant doesn’t
really have what it takes, or maybe that he is a bit standoffish, or maybe that
he doesn’t really want the job. What this unconscious first impression will do,
in other words, is throw
26. the interview hopelessly off course
27. But
unconscious discrimination is a little bit trickier.
28. If
something is happening outside of awareness, how on earth do you fix it
29. but
just because something is outside of awareness doesn’t mean it’s outside of
control
30. which
means that we can change our first impressions—we can alter the way we
thin-slice—by changing the experiences that comprise those impressions
31. Effects-Based
Operations, which directed them to think beyond the conventional military
method of targeting and destroying an adversary’s military assets. They were
given a comprehensive, real-time map of the combat situation called the Common
Relevant Operational Picture (CROP).
32. One
Saturday evening not long ago, an improvisation comedy group called Mother took
the stage in a small theater in the basement of a supermarket on Manhattan’s
West Side. It was a snowy evening just after Thanksgiving, but the room was
full. There are eight people in Mother, three women and five men, all in their
twenties and thirties. The stage was bare except for a half dozen white folding
chairs. Mother was going to perform what is known in the improv world as a
Harold. They would get up onstage, without any idea whatsoever of what
character they would be playing or what plot they would be acting out, take a
random suggestion from the audience, and then, without so much as a moment’s
consultation, make up a thirty-minute play from scratch. One of the group
members called out to the audience for a suggestion. “Robots,” someone yelled
back. In improv, the suggestion is rarely taken literally, and in this case,
Jessica, the actress who began the action, said later that the thing that came
to mind when she heard the word “robots” was emotional detachment and the way
technology affects relationships. So, right then and there, she walked onstage,
pretending to read a bill from the cable television company. There was one
other person onstage with her, a man seated in a chair with his back to her.
They began to talk. Did he know what character he was playing at that moment?
Not at all; nor did she or anyone in the audience. But somehow it emerged that
she was the wife, and the man was her husband, and she had found charges on the
cable bill for porn movies and was distraught. He, in turn, responded by
blaming their teenaged son, and after a spirited back-and-forth, two more
actors rushed onstage, playing two different characters in the same narrative.
One was a psychiatrist helping the family with their crisis. In another scene,
an actor angrily slumped in a chair. “I’m doing time for a crime I didn’t
commit,” the actor said. He was the couple’s son. At no time as the narrative
unfolded did anyone stumble or freeze or look lost. The action proceeded as
smoothly as if the actors had rehearsed for days. Sometimes what was said and
done didn’t quite work. But often it was profoundly hilarious, and the audience
howled with delight. And at every point it was riveting: here was a group of
eight people up on a stage without a net, creating a play before our eyes.
33. Do
you have to be particularly quick-witted or clever or light on your feet to
play that scene? Not really. It’s a perfectly straightforward conversation. The
humor arises entirely out of how steadfastly the participants adhere to the
rule that no suggestion can be denied. If you can create the right framework,
all of a sudden, engaging in the kind of fluid, effortless, spur-of-the-moment
dialogue that makes for good improv theater becomes a lot easier. This is what
Paul Van Riper understood in Millennium Challenge. He didn’t just put his team
up onstage and hope and pray that funny dialogue popped into their heads. He
created the conditions for successful spontaneity.
34. But
he never got specific guidance from me of how to do it. Just the intent.” Once
the fighting started
35. It
was, by his own admission, a “messy” way to make decisions. But it had one
overwhelming advantage: allowing people to operate without having to explain
themselves.
36. constantly
turns out to be like the rule of agreement in improv. It enables rapid
cognition
37. We
all have an instinctive memory for faces. But by forcing you to verbalize that
memory—to explain yourself—I separate you from those instincts. Recognizing
faces sounds like a very specific process, but Schooler has shown that the
implications of verbal overshadowing carry over to the way we solve much
broader problems. Consider the following puzzle: A man and his son are in a
serious car accident. The father is killed, and the son is rushed to the
emergency room. Upon arrival, the attending doctor looks at the child and
gasps, “This child is my son!” Who is the doctor? This is an insight puzzle.
It’s not like a math or a logic problem that can be worked out systematically
with pencil and paper. The only way you can get the answer is if it comes to
you suddenly in the blink of an eye. You need to make a leap beyond the
automatic assumption that doctors are always men. They aren’t always, of
course. The doctor is the boy’s mother!
38. chooler
did this experiment with a whole sheet of insight puzzles, he found that people
who were asked to explain themselves ended up solving 30 percent fewer problems
than those who weren’t. In short, when you write down your thoughts, your
chances of having the flash of insight you need in order to come up with a
solution are significantly impaired—just as describing the face of your
waitress made you unable to pick her out of a police lineup. (The solution to
the pyramid problem, by the way, is to destroy the bill in some way—tear it or
burn it.
39. We
can hold a face in memory, and we can solve a puzzle in a flash. But what
Schooler is saying is that all these abilities are incredibly fragile. Insight
is not a lightbulb that goes off inside our heads. It is a flickering candle
that can easily be snuffed out."
40. This
is a beautiful example of thin-slicing in action. The fireman’s internal
computer effortlessly and instantly found a pattern in the chaos. But surely
the most striking fact about that day is how close it all came to disaster. Had
the lieutenant stopped and discussed the situation with his men, had he said to
them, let’s talk this over and try to figure out what’s going on, had he done,
in other words, what we often think leaders are supposed to do to solve
difficult problems, he might have destroyed his ability to jump to the insight
that saved their lives
41. hat
Reilly and his team at Cook County were trying to do, in short, was provide
some structure for the spontaneity of the ER. The algorithm is a rule that
protects the doctors from being swamped with too much information—the same way
that the rule of agreement protects improv actors when they get up onstage
42. The
second lesson is that in good decision making, frugality matters. John Gottman
took a complex problem and reduced it to its simplest elements: even the most
complicated of relationships and problems, he showed, have an identifiable
underlying pattern. Lee Goldman’s research proves that in picking up these
sorts of patterns, less is more. Overloading the decision makers with
information, he proves, makes picking up that signature harder, not easier. To
be a successful decision maker, we have to edit. When we thin-slice, when we
recognize patterns and make snap judgments, we do this process of editing
unconsciously.
43. I
think we get in trouble when this process of editing is disrupted—when we can’t
edit, or we don’t know what to edit, or our environment doesn’t let us edit
44. Who
are you?” the fans were yelling by the end. Kenna is the sort of person who is
constantly at odds with your expectations, and that is both one of the things
that make him so interesting and one of the things that have made his career so
problematic.
45. The
big giant is tied down by those little rules and regulations and procedures.
And the little guy? He just runs around and does what he wants.
46. And
Vic Braden discovered that while people are very willing and very good at
volunteering information explaining their actions, those explanations,
particularly when it comes to the kinds of spontaneous opinions and decisions
that arise out of the unconscious, aren’t necessarily correct
47. Getting
to the bottom of the question of how good Kenna really is requires a more
searching exploration of the intricacies of our snap judgments
48. their
thinking was that music lovers can thin-slice a new song in a matter of
seconds, and there is nothing wrong with that idea in principle. But
thin-slicing has to be done in context. It is possible to quickly diagnose the
health of a marriage. But you can’t just watch a couple playing Ping-Pong. You
have to observe them while they are discussing
49. This
is reminiscent of Schooler’s experiments that I described in the Van Riper
story, in which introspection destroyed people’s ability to solve insight
problems. By making people think about jam, Wilson and Schooler turned them
into jam idiots. In the earlier discussion, however, I was referring to things
that impair our ability to solve problems. Now I’m talking about the loss of a
much more fundamental ability, namely the ability to know our own mind.
Furthermore, in this case we have a much more specific explanation for why
introspections mess up our reactions
50. locked
room, and we can’t look inside that room. But with experience we become expert
at using our behavior and our training to interpret—and decode—what lies behind
our snap judgments and first impressions.
51. This
does not mean that when we are outside our areas of passion and experience, our
reactions are invariably wrong. It just means that they are shallow. They are
hard to explain and easily disrupted. They aren’t grounded in real
understanding.
52. Perhaps
the most common—and the most important—forms of rapid cognition are the
judgments we make and the impressions we form of other people. Every waking
minute that we are in the presence of someone, we come up with a constant
stream of predictions and inferences about what that person is thinking and
feeling. When someone says, “I love you,” we look into that person’s eyes to
judge his or her sincerity. When we meet someone new, we often pick up on
subtle signals, so that afterward, even though he or she may have talked in a
normal and friendly manner, we may say, “I don’t think he liked me,” or “I
don’t think she’s very happy.” We easily parse complex distinctions in facial
expression. If you were to see me grinning, for example, with my eyes twinkling,
you’d say I was amused. But if you were to see me nod and smile exaggeratedly,
with the corners of my lips tightened, you would take it that I had been teased
and was responding sarcastically. If I were to make eye contact with someone,
give a small smile, and then look down and avert my gaze, you would think I was
flirting. If I were to follow a remark with a quick smile and then nod or tilt
my head sideways, you might conclude that I had just said something a little
harsh and wanted to take the edge off it. You wouldn’t need to hear anything I
was saying in order to reach these conclusions. They would just come to you,
blink. If you were to approach a one-year-old child who sits playing on the
floor and do something a little bit puzzling, such as cupping your hands over
hers, the child would immediately look up into your eyes. Why? Because what you
have done requires explanation, and the child knows that she can find an answer
on your face.
53. What
Ekman is describing, in a very real sense, is the physiological basis of how we
thin-slice other people. We can all mind-read effortlessly and automatically
because the clues we need to make sense of someone or some social situation are
right there on the faces of those in front of us. We may not be able to read
faces as brilliantly as someone like Paul Ekman or Silvan Tomkins can, or pick
up moments as subtle as Kato Kaelin’s transformation into a snarling dog. But
there is enough accessible information on a face to make everyday mind reading
possible
54. what
even a child intuitively understands as the clear signal of fear? We make these
kinds of complicated, lightning-fast calculations very well. We make them every
day, and we make them without thinking.
55. eter
is a highly intelligent man. He has graduate degrees from a prestigious
university. His IQ is well above normal, and Klin speaks of him with genuine
respect. But because he lacks one very basic ability—the ability to
mind-read—he can be presented with that scene in Who’s Afraid of Virginia
Woolf? and come to a conclusion that is socially completely and
catastrophically wrong.
56. Most
police officers—well over 90 percent—go their whole career without ever firing
at anyone, and those who do describe the experience as so unimaginably
stressful that it seems reasonable to ask if firing a gun could be the kind of
experience that could cause temporary autism.
57. officer
appears to be describing something that is quite impossible. How can someone
watch his bullets hit someone? Just as strange is the second man’s claim not to
have heard the sound of his gun going off. How can that be? Yet, in interviews
with police officers who have been involved with shootings, these same details
appear again and again: extreme visual clarity, tunnel vision, diminished
sound, and the sense that time is slowing down. This is how the human body
reacts to extreme stress, and it makes sense. Our mind, faced with a
life-threatening situation, drastically limits the range and amount of
information that we have to deal with. Sound and memory and broader social
understanding are sacrificed in favor of heightened awareness of the threat directly
in front of us. In a critical sense, the police officers whom Klinger describes
performed better because their senses narrowed: that narrowing allowed them to
focus on the threat in front of
58. Fyfe,
head of training for the NYPD, who has testified in many police brutality
cases. “The Liberty City riot in Miami in 1980 was started by what the cops did
at the end of a chase. They beat a guy to death. In 1986, they had another riot
in Miami based on what cops did at the end of the chase. Three of the major
race riots in this country over the past quarter century have been caused by
what cops did at the end of a chase
59. dog
in the hunt doesn’t stop to scratch its flees
60. Arousal
leaves us mind-blind
61. When
you remove time,” de Becker says, “you are subject to the lowest-quality
intuitive reaction.
62. When
we make a split-second decision,” Payne says, “we are really vulnerable to
being guided by our stereotypes and prejudices, even ones we may not
necessarily endorse or believe.
63. Our
unconscious thinking is, in one critical respect, no different from our
conscious thinking: in both, we are able to develop our rapid decision making
with training and experience.
64. How
long was this encounter? Two seconds? One and a half seconds? But look at how
the officer’s experience and skill allowed him to stretch out that fraction of
time, to slow the situation down, to keep gathering information until the last
possible moment.
65. Why,
for so many years, were conductors so oblivious to the corruption of their snap
judgments? Because we are often careless with our powers of rapid cognition. We
don’t know where our first impressions come from or precisely what they mean,
so we don’t always appreciate their fragility. Taking our powers of rapid
cognition seriously means we have to acknowledge the subtle influences that can
alter or undermine or bias the products of our unconscious.
66. hey
solved the problem, and that’s the second lesson of Blink. Too often we are
resigned to what happens in the blink of an eye. It doesn’t seem like we have
much control over whatever bubbles to the surface from our unconscious. But we
do, and if we can control the environment in which rapid cognition takes place,
then we can control rapid cognition. We can prevent the people fighting wars or
staffing emergency rooms or policing the streets from making mistakes.