The Paradox of Choice – Why Less is More

I stumbled upon a great video last night. It's a presentation at oxford university from an American professor named Barry Schwartz. It's titled The Paradox of Choice – Why Less is More.

If you haven't seen it, you should check it out here.

Because it resonated with me, I have paraphrased plagiarised parts of it below.

Western Society

A widely accepted premise of Western industrialised society is: We want to maximise the welfare of our citizens. A core belief we have is that this can be achieved by maximising individual freedom.

Why? Both because freedom is good in itself, and essential for a person to be happy, but also because if a person has freedom then they can do what’s in their own interests and therefore help maximise their own welfare.

The way to maximise freedom, is to maximise choice. More choice = more freedom, more freedom = more welfare.

And we do have more choice. More choices every day – food, medical care, laundry products, cleaning products, cell phones, electronics...

But also things that people hardly used to contemplate: their occupation, whether to have children or have a career, what career they should choose, where to go on overseas holiday ... or even choice of gender or sexual preference.

Is all of this Choice Good or Bad?

It is both, but there are two negative effects as a result of all this freedom of choice:

• It results in paralysis rather than liberation. With so many options to choose from, people find it very difficult to choose at all. So they don’t choose – they put the decision off until tomorrow, and the next day, and the next...


• Even if we manage to overcome the paralysis, we end up less satisfied with the result of the choice than we would be if we had fewer options to choose from.

There are several reasons why we are less satisfied with the resulting choice:

Regret & Anticipated Regret – With more choice, it’s easy to imagine that we could have made a different choice that would have been better.

This imagined alternative causes you to regret the decision you made, which detracts from the enjoyment you get from the choice – even if it was a good choice, and the best choice you could have made.

The more options there are, the easier it is for you to regret anything at all about the option that you chose.

Opportunity cost – When there are a lot of alternatives and you choose one thing, you are choosing not to do another thing, and those other things might have lots of attractive features that make what you are currently doing is less attractive.

Escalation of expectations – with so much choice, our expectation about how good something will be increases.

More choice = higher expectation of the choice we make being absolutely perfect. When our expectation is of perfection, we can’t help but be disappointed. And with more options, you can’t help but increase a person’s expectation.

The secret to happiness then is: low expectation. hah!

Another side effect of this increased freedom of choice

When there is limited choice and you make a decision you are not happy with, it’s “the world” that is responsible.

When there is an abundance of choices and you make a decision you are not happy with, it is YOU that is responsible. You will blame yourself, because with all that choice, surely you could have made a better choice.

Some choice is better than none, but more choice is not necessarily better than some choice.

If you are starving, having the choice of being able to have food would be a massive improvement in your quality of life.

If you had the option to choose between two foods, that would be another huge improvement that would even make you happier.

But if you had access to 4000 foods, having 4001 would likely not make you any happier. There comes a point where more choice does not result in more happiness. In fact, the opposite can be true -- having too many choices can actually result in you being less happy because of regret, opportunity cost and escalation of expectation.

Here is the kicker then.

What enables all of this choice? An an abundance of stuff - resources, money, etc.

So if we transferred some of the abundance to a poorer society so that they had more and we had less, it wouldn't just make the poorer society much happier, it would make us happier as well.

What defines someone as a person?

I saw the prequel to batman returns on my flight home. Its called batman begins, and I actually thought it was alright (note: I didn’t watch it that hard, may have been sleep deprived and I'm not a movie critic).

There’s a part in the movie where Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham City and has to spend a period of time acting “normal”. For a young millionaire playboy, normal means fast cars, dating models and generally acting like a spoilt little brat. So he’s doing just that at a restaurant one night, and he meets the girl he has loved since childhood (as played by Katie Holmes) for the first time since returning to Gotham.

The scene was a little obvious and cheesy I think, but he basically tries to tell her that this isn’t who he is. I can’t remember her exact reply, but what I got out of it was:

You are who your words and actions portray you to be.

I’m sure to most people this is obvious (isn’t it?). But after hearing these words I had what alcoholics refer to as a “moment of clarity” (in the words of Jules from pulp fiction).

How you are or think you are “deep down” is not who you are. You are who your words and actions portray you to be.

Lost baggage!

Istanbul airport
While slightly tired, I was in fairly good spirits (having managed to arrive in Turkey in one piece) and ready to start experiencing this new country. The plan was for me to hang around the airport and wait for Sarah, one of the Australian girls I’d be traveling with. She was meant to arrive at around 5pm.

I was to wait for her on the pretense that girls of the ‘light haired’ variety can have trouble on their own in some countries - Turkey being one of them - and having me there would keep her safe. To be honest it was probably as much for my benefit as for hers. While I’m fairly independent and not fazed at the idea of tackling a foreign city by myself, it was none the less my first time abroad. Sarah on the other hand has experience in the trials and tribulations of traveling & living away from home ... she was living in Edinburgh in Scottland at the time she came to Turkey.

Customs
But before I could hurry up and wait for Sarah to arrive, I had to pass through customs. After walking along a long wide marble hallway, I arrived at the check-in point and read the signs. It appeared that unlike most other countries, New Zealanders didn’t need a VISA. Australians had to pay $20 YTL for the privilege, while Canadians had to pay $60 YTL (what did the Canucks do to piss off the Turks I wonder?).

This customs guy for my line actually smiled and greeted each person and seemed pretty friendly. In fact, collectively these were the friendliest customs people I had seen in action. When I approached the cubicle I noticed they had webcam’s sitting on the bench inside. After checking my passport, the guy aimed the webcam at me, presumably taking my picture.

I noticed groups of airport police all with handguns in their holsters milling around the customs area. These guys looked like they were teenagers!

Dude, where’s my bag?
I came accross a change office and changed the 500 euro note I had obtained before leaving New Zealand into smaller denominations, then I headed for the luggage carousel. The carousel started and I began to wait patiently for my bag. After 10 minutes my mind began to wonder. I theorized that because my bag was transferred direct from the Amsterdam flight to the plane that went to Istanbul, it was probably packed first and therefore would be out near the end.

After a further 20 minutes all bags were gone and the carousel stopped. There were a couple of airport staff standing next to me, and at least one other person still seemingly waiting for a bag. I told the airport people my bag didn't arrive and they pointed me in the general direction of unclaimed baggage which was on the other side of the building. Upon arriving at unclaimed baggage, the guy with not-so-good-English directed me to the “lost” baggage office next door.

In the lost baggage office there were half a dozen young Turkish girls situated behind what looked to be a collapsible table. On top of the makeshift table sat a computer for each of the girls. I approached the first one and explained that one that my backpack didn’t arrive. She asked a few questions, checked with a couple of colleagues and gave me a form to fill in while she used her computer to check something.

I completed the form and handed it back along with my passport and boarding pass. After a couple more minutes at her computer she told me she’d found where the bag was. I politely asked where. “Manchester” she told me in a fairly matter of fact way. Really? I smiled. "Do you know when it would be in Istanbul?" She advised me the next KLM flight was 12am the following morning, and that they would deliver it to where I was staying in Sultanahmet.

I thanked her, and left with the smile on my face. My inaugural overseas travelling experience was off to a fantastic start! My bag was sent to the wrong place, but it would be back before it became a pain in the ass.. perfect!

My first ever long-haul plane flight

I don’t remember all that much about the trip over. Probably partially due to fatigue, but also because the human mind is conditioned to block memories of discomfort and pain.

It all started out from Auckland airport at lunchtime on the 21st …

Hey, it’s not so bad…
The first leg was the ~9,000 km or about 11 hours 10 mins to Singapore. The plane was a newer Boeing 777 which has a footrest. At the time I didn’t really appreciate the footrest - I figured a footrest was a standard big-plane feature.

The ex-pat Dutch guy sitting next to me was returning to the Netherlands for the first time in a few years to visit a sick family member. He had a condition with his leg, so an hour into the flight he moved to a more spacious area up front. Once I had two seats to myself I managed to get a little sleep. God knows why I needed sleep, it would only have been 6 or 7 pm NZ time when I was snoozing.

Eventually we arrived at Singapore airport. I remember thinking the flight wasn’t SO bad and kind of wondering what all the fuss over long haul flights was about.

Singapore airport
An official met us inside the airport terminal and guided those of us going on the next leg on KLM to Amsterdam to the air train to take us to the correct terminal. Like many, I checked into the KLM flight headed to Amsterdam later that evening before having a look around the airport. They have free Internet at Singapore airport. They also have an outdoor swimming pool and several movie areas. It’s balmy outside, even at night.

After eating something, I went to the correct gate, set my phone alarm and tried to sleep for a while. First on the carpeted floor, but it was too hard. Then I lay awkwardly on a set of three seats next to the gate. I shut my eyes and managed to get an hour of what some might consider sleep. The alarm went off and next thing I know I’m on the KLM 747 headed to Amsterdam.

My impression of Singaporeans from my two or three brief encounters with people at the airport: they seem fairly friendly, but above all value efficiency and tidiness.

The middle seat
When checking in at Singapore, I made the BIG mistake of not asking for any particular type of seat.

I was on the left side, in the middle seat. The middle seat has no redeeming qualities. None. On the window you can use the plane wall as a headrest and get some sleep. On the isle you can get up and move around at will without disturbing anyone. After 3 hours of the middle seat, I was basically hoping the plane would crash and put me out of my misery. It was that bad. I actually recall thinking that if I could flick a switch and return home in an instant, I would probably flick it.

The disheartening part was that they have a map showing you where you are and how fast you’re going etc. It showed us flying over Istanbul on the way to Amsterdam!!!

I desperately wanted to sleep, but wasn’t physically able to… my head had nothing to rest on. When I actually fell asleep it was only a split second before my head start to fall, causing me to wake again. My legs (esp. hamstrings) were killing me from sitting down so long.

Somehow I managed to survive the ~13 hour marathon flight, and we touched down in Amsterdam a little before 6am on the 22nd.

Amsterdam airport
I had another 4 hour stop over until my 3+ hour flight to Istanbul. After fairly unsuccessfully attempting to figure out how the hell Amsterdam airport was laid out and where I needed to go for my flight, I checked in and got something to eat. It was a basic ham and cheese baguette thing, but tasted pretty good. I was kind of surprised to see people smoking inside at the airport, but it was a sign of things to come in Europe.

The final leg
Eventually the flight to Istanbul got underway. I was uncomfortable pretty much straight away, having been sitting on my ass for most of the past 36+ hours. But at a mere 3 hours 20 minutes, and with my excitement levels rising in anticpation of arriving at Istanbul, this flight was going to be a walk in the park.

I was stationed on the window seat, next to two guys in their early forties. One guy, lets call him 'Bob', was going to get on a domestic flight to somewhere else in Turkey. Bob was a snorer. One of those snorers that starts fairly quietly, then gets louder with each breath until eventually something happens which seems to cut off the airflow and cause the snorer to semi-choke then wake up. Ad nauseam.

The other, lets call him 'Franky', seemed friendly enough. He had tattoo’s and been to Istanbul before – fairly regularly it seemed (later when we touched down he gave Bob advice on how to go about getting on a domestic flight). I was observing Franky later in the flight when he pulled out some documents, apparently work related. It seemed to be material about safety in the workplace. He never got past the first page in the 30 mins he had the material out. I wondered what that was about at the time, but dismissed it. Looking back, maybe the documents were a front for his real activities? Who knows.

Touchdown in Istanbul
It had been 27.5 hours flying, and another 12 or so waiting in various airports by the time we touched down on the other side of the world at “Ataturk International Airport” in Istanbul.

Local time was 2:20pm on the 22nd of September, 2005. I would learn more about Ataturk later.

My first OE

Hello! My name's Blair and I'm from the small town of Whakatane, on the east coast of the North Island in New Zealand.

In September 2005, I went 'overseas' for the first time in my life (I've been to Australia several times, but that doesn't really count). I was away for 5 weeks, 2.5 of them in Turkey and another two or so on a bus trip around some of the other major tourist destinations in Europe (London, Paris, Germany, etc).

I was meant to keep a travel diary, but didn't really find time during my travels. It's unfortunate because I found that with each passing day, I would forget things which had seemed noteworthy the previous day. This was especially true of the things I noticed which were different to 'back home'.. they just became normal and so were forgotten.

The differences in how people and things were, rather than the sights and buildings, was the most interesting part of travelling for me.

This blog is for me. It's mainly to ensure I don't forget some of the notable experiences and memories of my trip. If you're anything like me, you probably won't find it of much interest, unless perhaps you can relate to the experience or have similar travel in mind.

Feel free to email me -- stepped at gmail wth any comments.