The Trap of Certainty

I tend to be a person who is sure of things. I’m certain of many things— what people I like to be around, what I like to eat, where I like to travel, and what I want to do with my time. I am the queen of certainty. This certainty has served me well and led me to success. I live in the United States, in San Francisco, and have worked in technology in Silicon Valley for most of my professional life. We are a culture that values visions, plans, decisive action, and consistent follow through. But at what cost?

My colleague and friend, David Taylor-Klaus, asked this question earlier this week:

“Where are you trapped by your certainty?”

This question stopped me cold. I’d always valued my certainty and decisiveness above all else. And yet when I think back on my own life, I could bring to mind many stories where I was trapped by my certainty.

The “Finding A Major” Story

I was good at math and science in high school. I was also fascinated with how things work. I enjoyed problem solving. When I entered Stanford as a starry-eyed freshman, I was enamoured with the myth of California and Silicon Valley. It seemed that the clear path forward was to become a computer science major. I went straight to work, jumping through the hoops of basic classes and prerequisites; and diving into C++, LISP, operating systems, and artificial intelligence. Along the way, a rebel side of me insisted that I take other classes that fascinated me, including psychology, philosophy, and ethics on top of the required reading of Great Works. Math and computer science classes became really hard. It felt like I was going through the motions and spending countless all-nighters to barely scrape by and complete the assignments. It felt rote, a bit life-less and soul-ess. And yet I persevered. I kept working hard. I was certain computer science was my path.

After slogging through a couple of years of this certainty, I had had enough. I realized how much more I enjoyed learning about the Turing Test, participating in psychological experiments with grad students, debating ethics & morality, and appreciating the history of the first computer interfaces. I was lucky enough to discover human-computer interaction as a early precursor to the new discipline of product design. It let me blend my love of analytical problem solving with the beautiful complexity of understanding humans. I found a unique role translating between the two systems.

My certainty about computer science led me to some great things—the ability to understanding coding down to the metal and to wondrous applications in creating gaming systems and programming robots. But for a couple of years, that certainty closed off the possibility that I might find something else to love better.

The “I’m not good at sports” Story
Having a tiger mom growing up, succeeding at school mattered a lot. Early in primary school, I realized that I wasn’t the best at hand / eye coordination or physical stamina. In gym, I was often the last kid picked to be on a team. I could never run a 12 minute mile. The only blemish in my straight A high school record was getting a B for P.E. I still remember being outraged at both failing to hit the physical benchmark as well as failing to correctly answer some obscure question about points gained for certain plays in American football. I was certain that I was not good at sports or anything physical.

For years I avoided doing anything physical. This changed when in college, I spontaneously took my first 7-day backpacking trip with 4 other women. I don’t think I’d ever even been on a hike before that week. With my heavy pack, we trekked through the backcountry in Death Valley, Zion, and Joshua Tree, setting up camp where-ever we wanted and sleeping under the stars. Then some years later, I discovered surfing, and then snowboarding. These were individual sports where I didn’t need to run or have the best hand-eye coordination. Instead, they let me build on my adrenaline-junkie urge for speed and the ability to keep persevering through the strength of waves and power-covered mountains.

My certainty about not being good at sports led me to spend all my energy towards academic excellence. For many years, it trapped me within the space of the mind. It closed me off to the possibility of finding physical activities that brought me energy and joy.

Strong beliefs, loosely held

Working in tech for decades, I can think of many instances where I was convinced that a design solution was going to work well for certain groups of people. And in many of those cases, I was right. I also remember the sinking feeling of failure when I went all-in for a product solution that I was certain was the correct one; a product solution that I had fought for and gotten research to back me up, that I had sold through many executive reviews, and yet… when we had people use it, it was clear that there were many things wrong with my solution. I’ve learned over the years to adopt the principle of strong beliefs, loosely held. That we can have hypotheses around people’s problems and how we might provide solutions to these problems. But these are not facts steeped in 100% certainty. As time passes, we run experiments to test the validity of these hypothesis and remain open to the possibility that new data can, and will change these hypothesis.

Certainty is a good thing. It’s valuable to know a direction, and to have beliefs and strong desires in both a professional and a personal setting. The warning of “the trap of certainty” is to have us move forward toward that goal, but never forgetting that we have the freedom to change our minds.

1.Be all-in to the certainty
Keep moving through the process and days knowing that the work you’re doing levels up to a bigger cause and purpose. Whatever it is that you’re certain about, commit to it. Go all-in.

At the same time as complex humans, we can hold on to paradox and ask ourselves the following questions:

2. Where might I be wrong? Who could help me with a different perspective?
It’s always valuable to be aware that this certainty is not 100%. Holding it as a hypothesis opens up the possibility that I might be wrong. Anticipating and thinking through these areas without being paralyzed with indecision helps to create a counter-balance to the certainty. Surrounding yourself with people who have a different perspective also serves as this invaluable counter-balance. In lieu of having these strong partners, you can use Edward de Bono’s Six Thinking Hats to actively question the certainty by donning different modes of thinking ranging from the yellow hat of optimism to the red hat of intuition to the black hat of being the devil’s advocate.

3. Am I approaching this from scarcity or from abundance?
As you focus on the thing you’re certain about, notice the emotion associated with the passion. Is it driven from a negative emotion that might be a scarcity mindset? For example:

Fear of looking stupid or losing credibility
Shame at not being skillful enough at sports / math / drawing / presenting
Jealousy around other people’s success

These are all negative emotions around a scarcity mindset. Instead, try to re-frame the thing of certainty to a statement of abundance.

Empathy around how this proposed product could help people’s lives in particular ways
Curiosity or determination that practice could lead to more skills
Desire for your own success

4. Will this certainty hold over time?
Sometimes in the heat of the moment, the certainty feels so strong and powerful that you feel it must be 100% right. Give yourself a container to evaluate how this certainty will hold over time. For example:

Before accepting or rejecting a job offer, think about it at least overnight and hopefully over a period of days.
When in a professional or personal relationship with conflict, note how your feelings for the other person changes over days, weeks, months or years.

5. Permission to change my mind
One of my clients knew that her current corporate job which was filled with meaning and social good wasn’t the right long-term path for her. It was giving her financial stability, yet she yearned to start her own business. She was certain that entrepreneurship was her future path. We explored many options together ranging from getting an MBA, to starting research on her product idea, to finding potential partners to talk to, to how to create an MVP (minimal viable product) version of her idea. She ran experiments around all these paths. Yet the biggest freedom from her certainty was the insight that “It’s OK if I change my mind.” It’s great to be all-in to a certain passion, and know that it’s completely OK to change your mind later on.

Bottom-Line

Certainty is a wonderful thing in our problem-solving, forward-focused culture of getting things done. Yet it can become a rigid taskmaster that closes off possibilities and traps us within its structure. Avoid the trap of certainty with the mantra of strong beliefs, loosely held.

Tutti TaygerlyJanuary 28, 2021