The next time you’re juggling options 鈥?which friend to see, which house to buy, which career to pursue 鈥?try asking yourself this question: What would Xiang Yu do?
璇ヨ鍝釜鏈嬪弸錛屼拱鍝耿鎴垮瓙錛屽仛浠涔堜簨涓氾紝涓嬩竴嬈″綋浣犻潰瀵硅繖浜涗護(hù)浜虹湬鏅曠殑閫夋嫨鏃訛紝涓嶅Θ闂嚜宸辮繖鏍蜂竴涓棶棰橈細(xì)欏圭窘鏄庝箞鍋氱殑錛?br>
Xiang Yu was a Chinese general in the third century B.C. who took his troops across the Yangtze River into enemy territory and performed an experiment in decision making. He crushed his troops’ cooking pots and burned their ships.
欏圭窘鏄叕鍏冨墠3涓栫邯涓浗鍙や唬鐨勪竴浣嶅皢鍐涖傚湪闀挎睙鐜囬儴韜櫡鏁屽啗鍖呭洿鍦堢殑鏃跺欎粬鍋氬嚭浜嗕竴涓祵鍗氬紡鐨勫喅瀹氾細(xì)“鐮撮嚋娌夎垷”銆?br>
He explained this was to focus them on moving forward 鈥?a motivational speech that was not appreciated by many of the soldiers watching their retreat option go up in flames. But General Xiang Yu would be vindicated, both on the battlefield and in the annals of social science research.
浠栧皢姝よВ閲婁負(fù)浣胯嚜宸辯殑澹叺瀛ゆ敞涓鎺峰湪鎷兼潃鍚戝墠鐨勬垬鏂椾腑錛屽敖綆¤繖縐嶉紦鍔ㄦх殑璁叉紨騫朵笉涓洪偅浜涚溂鐫佺潄鐨勭湅鐫閫璺湪紜濈儫涓鎴柇鐨勫＋鍏墊墍棰嗘?zhèn)熴備絾鏃犺濡備綍錛岄」緹界殑鍋氭硶鏄煎緱淇℃湇鐨勶紝鏃犺鏄垬鍦虹殑緇撳眬榪樻槸紺句細(xì)瀛︾爺絀墮兘璇佸疄浜嗚繖涓鐐廣?br>
He is one of the role models in Dan Ariely’s new book, “Predictably Irrational,” an entertaining look at human foibles like the penchant for keeping too many options open. General Xiang Yu was a rare exception to the norm, a warrior who conquered by being unpredictably rational.
鍦ㄤ腹-鍩冮浄閲岀殑鏂頒功涓紝浠栦篃鏄叾涓殑鑼冧緥涔嬩竴銆傛墍璋?#8220;棰勮鐨勪笉鍚堢悊鎬?#8221;姝ｆ槸瀵逛漢綾誨枩嬈負(fù)鑷繁鐣欐湁浣欏湴鐨勫急鐐逛竴縐嶆垙璋戠殑鐪嬫硶銆傝タ妤氶湼鐜嬫槸寰堝皯鐨勪緥澶栦箣涓錛屼粬鏈緇堣緭緇欎簡鎵璋?#8220;涓嶅彲棰勮鐨勫悎鐞嗘?#8221;銆?br>
Most people can’t make such a painful choice, not even the students at a bastion of rationality like the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where Dr. Ariely is a professor of behavioral economics. In a series of experiments, hundreds of students could not bear to let their options vanish, even though it was obviously a dumb strategy (and they weren’t even asked to burn anything).
娌℃湁澶氬皯浜鴻兘澶熷仛鍑鴻繖鏍風(fēng)棝鑻︾殑鎶夋嫨錛屽嵆浣挎槸韜負(fù)琛屼負(fù)緇忔祹瀛︽暀鎺堝焹闆烽噷鎵鍦ㄧ殑楹葷渷鐞嗗伐瀛﹂櫌鐞嗘х啅闄朵笅鐨勫鐢熴傚湪涓緋誨垪鐨勫疄楠屼腑錛屾暟鐧懼悕瀛︾敓閮芥棤娉曟壙鍙楀競鍖洪夋嫨鐨勫鍦般?br>
The experiments involved a game that eliminated the excuses we usually have for refusing to let go. In the real world, we can always tell ourselves that it’s good to keep options open. 榪欎簺瀹為獙鍖呭惈浜嗕竴涓悓鏍風(fēng)殑娓告垙瑙勫垯銆傞偅灝辨槸榪嬌浜轟滑鎽掑純涓浜涗護(hù)鎴戜滑涓嶈兘鏀懼純鏌愪簺閫夋嫨鐨勭悊鐢便傚湪鐜板疄涓栫晫閲岋紝鎴戜滑鎬繪槸鎻愰啋鑷繁鐣欎簺鍚庤礬鐨勫ソ澶勩?br>
You don’t even know how a camera’s burst-mode flash works, but you persuade yourself to pay for the extra feature just in case. You no longer have anything in common with someone who keeps calling you, but you hate to just zap the relationship.
浣犵敋鑷充笉鐭ラ亾闂厜鐏殑浣滅敤鍗翠粛鐒惰澶氳姳浜涢挶浠ラ槻涓囦竴錛屾湁浜涜瘽涓嶆姇鏈虹殑浜烘繪槸鑱旂郴浣狅紝浣犲嵈涓嶈兘褰誨簳緇撴潫榪欑鍏崇郴銆?br>
Your child is exhausted from after-school soccer, ballet and Chinese lessons, but you won’t let her drop the piano lessons. They could come in handy! And who knows? Maybe they will.
浣犵殑瀛╁瓙浠庤凍鐞冨煿璁彮鎴栨槸鑺暰錛屼腑鏂囩彮鍥炴潵宸叉槸絳嬬柌鍔涘敖錛屼綘鍗磋繕璁╀粬緇冧範(fàn)閽㈢惔銆傛槸鐨勶紝浠栦滑浼?xì)鐢ㄥ緱涓婄殑銆傝皝鍙堢煡閬撳憿錛熸垨璁稿惂銆?
In the M.I.T. experiments, the students should have known better. They played a computer game that paid real cash to look for money behind three doors on the screen. (You can play it yourself, without pay, at tierneylab.blogs.nytimes.com.) After they opened a door by clicking on it, each subsequent click earned a little money, with the sum varying each time.
鍦ㄩ夯鐪佺悊宸ュ闄㈢殑瀹為獙涓紝鍙備笌鐨勫鐢熷簲璇ユ湁鏇村ソ鐨勭悊瑙ｃ備粬浠渶瑕佽姳閽卞湪鐢?shù)鑴戝睆骞曚笂鐨勪笁鎵囬棬鍚庡L壘閽卞竵銆傚湪鐢ㄩ紶鏍囩偣寮涓鎵囬棬涔嬪悗錛屾帴涓嬫潵鐨勬瘡涓嬈＄偣鍑婚兘浼?xì)鑾峰緱鏁伴涓嵔{夌殑濂栧姳銆?br>
As each player went through the 100 allotted clicks, he could switch rooms to search for higher payoffs, but each switch used up a click to open the new door. The best strategy was to quickly check out the three rooms and settle in the one with the highest rewards.
姣忎竴涓帺瀹墮兘鏈?00嬈＄偣鍑葷殑鏈轟細(xì)銆傜帺瀹朵篃鍙互鍒╃敤涓涓棬涓婄殑寮鍏蟲潵瀵繪眰鏇撮珮鐨勫洖鎶ワ紝浣嗚繖鏍蜂篃浼?xì)澶卞幷d紑鍚竴鎵囬棬鐨勬満浼?xì)銆傛渶浣崇殑絳栫暐灝辨槸榪呴熺殑鏌ョ湅涓変釜鎴塊棿鐒跺悗紜畾鍏朵腑鐨勪竴涓姹傛渶楂樼殑濂栧姳銆?br>
Even after students got the hang of the game by practicing it, they were flummoxed when a new visual feature was introduced. If they stayed out of any room, its door would start shrinking and eventually disappear.
灝界璁稿瀛︾敓閮介氳繃緇冧範(fàn)鐭ラ亾浜嗗叾涓殑璇紿嶏紝浠栦滑鍦ㄦ柊鐨勮瑙夋晥鏋滃嚭鐜扮殑鏃跺欎粛鐒朵細(xì)鎰熷埌鎯婃厡澶辨帾銆傞偅灝辨槸鏃犺浠栦滑鍛嗗湪鍝竴涓埧闂達(dá)紝韜悗鐨勯棬浼?xì)鎱㈡參鐨勫叧闂洿鑷虫秷澶便?br>
They should have ignored those disappearing doors, but the students couldn’t. They wasted so many clicks rushing back to reopen doors that their earnings dropped 15 percent. Even when the penalties for switching grew stiffer 鈥?besides losing a click, the players had to pay a cash fee 鈥?the students kept losing money by frantically keeping all their doors open.
浠栦滑搴旇蹇界暐閭ｄ簺娑堝け鐨勯棬錛屼絾浠栦滑鍋氫笉鍒拌繖涓鐐廣備粬浠氮璐逛簡澶鐨勭偣鍑?yán)L満浼?xì)鍘诲洖澶存墦寮閭ｄ簺鍗沖皢鍏抽棴鐨勯棬錛屼篃鍥犳鎹熷け浜?5%鐨勬敹鑾楓傚敖綆″浣跨敤寮鍏崇殑鎯╃綒鍔犲己錛堥櫎浜嗗皯涓嬈＄偣鍑?yán)L満浼?xì)锛寴q樿鍔犱竴閮ㄥ垎娓告垙璐癸級錛屼絾璁稿瀛︾敓榪樻槸涓轟簡瑕佷繚璇佹墍鏈夌殑闂ㄩ兘寮鐫鑰屾崯澶變簡璁稿閽便?br>
Why were they so attached to those doors? The players, like the parents of that overscheduled piano student, would probably say they were just trying to keep future options open. But that’s not the real reason, according to Dr. Ariely and his collaborator in the experiments, Jiwoong Shin, an economist who is now at Yale.
涓轟粈涔堜粬浠姝ょ儹琛蜂簬閭ｄ簺闂ㄥ憿錛熻繖浜涘弬涓庢父鎴忚呭氨鍍忎笂鏂囨彁鍒扮殑閭ｄ簺涓哄瀛愬畨鎺掕繃澶氶挗鐞磋鍜岃ˉ涔?fàn)鐝殑瀹堕暱涓鏍鳳紝鎴栬鏄負(fù)灝嗘潵澶氱暀涓浜涗綑鍦般備絾鏄焹闆烽噷鍗氬＋鍜屽ス鏈瀹為獙鐨勫悎浣滆咃紝鑰墮瞾澶у鐨勭粡嫻庡瀹剁敵綰璁や負(fù)閭ｅ茍闈炵湡姝ｇ殑鍘熷洜鎵鍦ㄣ?br>
They plumbed the players’ motivations by introducing yet another twist. This time, even if a door vanished from the screen, players could make it reappear whenever they wanted. But even when they knew it would not cost anything to make the door reappear, they still kept frantically trying to prevent doors from vanishing.
涓轟簡鐮旂┒鐜╁鐨勮繖縐嶅姩鏈猴紝浠栦滑閲囧彇浜嗗彟涓縐嶅姙娉曘傝繖涓嬈★紝鍗充究涓鎵囬棬浠庡睆騫曚笂娑堝け錛岀帺瀹朵篃鍙互鏍規(guī)嵁鑷繁鐨勬剰鎰胯瀹冮噸鐜般備絾鏄湪榪欐牱鐨勬儏鍐典笅錛岀帺瀹朵粛鐒朵細(xì)鐤媯鑸殑闃繪閭ｄ簺闂ㄧ殑娑堝け銆?br>
Apparently they did not care so much about maintaining flexibility in the future. What really motivated them was the desire to avoid the immediate pain of watching a door close.
鏄劇劧浠栦滑騫朵笉鍘誨湪鎰忓灝嗘潵淇濇寔鐏墊椿鍙橀氥備粬浠繖鏍峰仛瀹為檯鏄負(fù)浜嗛伩鍏嶄竴縐嶇湅鍒頒滑琚叧涓婄殑鐜版椂鐨勬亹鎯с?br>
“Closing a door on an option is experienced as a loss, and people are willing to pay a price to avoid the emotion of loss,” Dr. Ariely says. In the experiment, the price was easy to measure in lost cash. In life, the costs are less obvious 鈥?wasted time, missed opportunities. If you are afraid to drop any project at the office, you pay for it at home.
鍩冮浄閲岃錛氬叧涓婁竴鎵囬棬灝卞鍚岀粡鍘嗕竴縐嶇己澶憋紝鑰屼漢浠垯鎰挎剰涓洪伩鍏嶈繖縐嶇‘瀹炴劅浠樺嚭涓瀹氱殑浠ｄ環(huán)銆傚湪榪欎釜瀹為獙涓紝浠ｄ環(huán)鍙互鐢ㄩ噾閽辯殑鎹熷け鏉ヨ 閲忋傝屽湪鐢熸椿涓紝榪欑鎹熷け鍒欎笉閭ｄ箞鏄庢樉鍙錛屽嫻垂鐨勬椂闂達(dá)紝閿欒繃鐨勬満浼?xì)绛夈傚鏋滀綘鏄竴涓伐浣滅媯錛屼綘灝變細(xì)浠樺嚭瀹跺涵鐨勪唬浠楓?br>
“We may work more hours at our jobs,” Dr. Ariely writes in his book, “without realizing that the childhood of our sons and daughters is slipping away. Sometimes these doors close too slowly for us to see them vanishing.”
鍦ㄤ功涓紝鍩冮浄閲屽啓閬擄細(xì)鎴戜滑鎬繪槸鑺卞湪宸ヤ綔涓婃洿澶氱殑鏃墮棿錛屽嵈蹇界暐浜嗘垜浠殑瀛愬コ錛屼粬浠殑绔ュ勾灝辮繖鏍鋒祦璧頒簡銆傛湁鏃墮偅浜涢棬鍦ㄤ笉鐭ヤ笉瑙夋參鎱㈢殑浠庢垜浠殑瑙嗙嚎涓秷澶變簡銆?br>
Dr. Ariely, one of the most prolific authors in his field, does not pretend that he is above this problem himself. When he was trying to decide between job offers from M.I.T. and Stanford, he recalls, within a week or two it was clear that he and his family would be more or less equally happy in either place. But he dragged out the process for months because he became so obsessed with weighing the options.
浣滀負(fù)鍦ㄨ繖涓棰嗗煙钁椾綔棰囦赴鐨勪竴浣嶄綔瀹訛紝鍩冮浄閲屽茍涓嶅惁璁よ嚜宸辨湰韜篃浼?xì)鍙楀埌杩櫩U嶉棶棰樼殑鍥版壈銆備粬鍥炲繂璇村湪閫夋嫨鍒伴夯鐪佺悊宸ュ闄㈣繕鏄柉鍧︾澶у浠繪暀鏃訛紝鍦ㄨ搗鍒濈殑涓涓や釜鍛ㄥ唴浠栧拰瀹朵漢瑙夊緱涓や釜鍦版柟閮借繕鎯剰銆傜敋鑷沖嚑涓湀鐨勬椂闂撮噷錛屼粬閮戒竴鐩翠負(fù)鏉冭 榪欎袱涓夋嫨蹇冩濈柌鎯?br>
“I’m just as workaholic and prone to errors as anyone else,” he says.. “I have way too many projects, and it would probably be better for me and the academic community if I focused my efforts. But every time I have an idea or someone offers me a chance to collaborate, I hate to give it up.”
浠栬錛氭垜鏄竴涓伐浣滅媯錛屼篃浼?xì)鍍忓叾浠栦恨Z竴鏍風(fēng)粡甯哥姱閿欍傛垜鎺ユ墜浜嗚澶氶」鐩紝濡傛灉鎴戣兘涓撳績鑷村織鏃犺瀵硅嚜宸辮繕鏄爺絀墮櫌鏉ヨ閮芥槸涓浠跺ソ浜嬨備絾鏄瘡褰撴垜鏈変粈涔堟柊鎯蟲硶鎴栨槸鏈変漢緇欐垜涓涓悎浣滅殑鏈轟細(xì)錛屾垜閮戒笉鎰挎斁寮冦?br>
So what can be done? One answer, Dr. Ariely said, is to develop more social checks on overbooking. He points to marriage as an example: “In marriage, we create a situation where we promise ourselves not to keep options open. We close doors and announce to others we’ve closed doors.”
鎵浠ヨ兘澶熷仛浠涔堝憿錛熷焹闆烽噷璇達(dá)細(xì)鍙湁涓涓瓟妗堬紝閭ｅ氨鏄簿蹇冪瓫閫夎繃澶氱殑閫夋嫨銆備粬浠ュ濮諱負(fù)渚嬪仛鍑鴻鏄庛傛墍璋撳濮伙紝灝辨槸鎴戜滑瑕佺粰鑷繁涓涓綰︼紝浣胯嚜宸卞浜庝竴涓棤璺彲閫鐨勫鍦般傛垜浠叧涓婂叾浣欑殑闂ㄧ劧鍚庡憡璇変漢浠垜浠凡緇忓仛鍑轟簡閫夋嫨銆?br>
Or we can just try to do it on our own. Since conducting the door experiments, Dr. Ariely says, he has made a conscious effort to cancel projects and give away his ideas to colleagues. He urges the rest of us to resign from committees, prune holiday card lists, rethink hobbies and remember the lessons of door closers like Xiang Yu.
鎴栬鎴戜滑鍙互璇曠潃鑷繁鍘誨仛銆傚焹闆烽噷鍗氬＋璇達(dá)紝鑷粠寮曞叆浜嗚繖涓疄楠岋紝浠栧凡緇忔湁鎰忚瘑鐨勬斁寮冧簡涓浜涢」鐩拰涓浜涘悎浣滆呯殑鎯蟲硶銆備粬鍛煎悂鎴戜滑鍏朵綑鐨勪漢涔熻涓嬪畾鍐沖績錛屽儚欏圭窘涓鏍峰仛涓涓噦寰楁斁寮冪殑浜恒?br>
If the general’s tactics seem too crude, Dr. Ariely recommends another role model, Rhett Butler, for his supreme moment of unpredictable rationality at the end of his marriage. Scarlett, like the rest of us, can’t bear the pain of giving up an option, but Rhett recognizes the marriage’s futility and closes the door with astonishing elan. Frankly, he doesn’t give a damn.
濡傛灉浣犺涓洪」緹藉皢鍐涚殑璁＄瓥澶繃孌嬮叿鐨勮瘽錛屽焹闆烽噷涓轟綘鎺ㄨ崘浜嗗彟涓涓鏍封斺旇禆鐗?宸寸壒鍕掋?鍙洜浠栨渶鍚庢湭鍙瑙佺殑鍚堢悊鐨勫濮葷粨灞銆傛柉浣充附錛屾濡傛垜浠竴鏍鳳紝涓嶈兘鎵垮彈鏀懼純涓涓夋嫨鐨勭棝鑻︼紝浣嗗綋宸寸壒鍕掍竾蹇典勘鐏版瘏鐒剁寮鐨勬椂鍊欍傚潶鐜囧湴璇達(dá)紝浠栨牴鏈笉鍦ㄦ剰浠涔堛?
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