Questioning our beliefs and value systems is hard, but regularly revisiting, reimagining, and reconsidering our established patterns, protocols, and perspectives may help us understand why we do what we do and why it is so important to us that we do it. To think again means to retain an open mind and invite opportunities to grow.
Think Again surprised me with an incredibly clean writing style. With it, Adam Grant truly demonstrates rethinking in practice and how it makes the reading experience so much more captivating. Think Again is partitioned into individual, interpersonal, and collective rethinking. Among the many intriguing ideas in this book, his ideas around “modes” stand out. In essence, the author believes, we are all subject to four modes that govern or at least influence our actions. We are either preachers, politicians, prosecutors, or scientists. Sometimes we will find ourselves channeling a combination of different modes for no good reason other than to make a point. In the view of the author, however, we have an opportunity to grow if we keep the preacher, politician, and prosecutor in us at bay and leverage our inner scientists to test hypotheses, seek evidence, and revise our convictions.
On its face, Think Again states the obvious. But I can’t remember a recent book that had a greater impact on my own modus operandi. As I write these lines, I can’t help but think about my protocol or approach to book reviews, social media, and blogging. How do I read books? What are my lessons? And am I carrying each lesson forward? What happens to my notes? Is this blog an excuse for taking fewer notes? Or engage in less reflection of the content? Grant acknowledges a state of paralysis or feelings of discomfort may be a side-effect of rethinking and unlearning. These feelings can quickly become unsettling and depressing. While he advocates for a metrics-based method to mitigate paralysis, basically measuring everything like a scientist would and comparing the before and after, we are not scientists in our daily, real lives – at least most of us. Moreover, we are fallible humans. Therefore his advice to simply break down processes, measure their components, and embrace the uncertainty that arises from rethinking isn’t convincing enough because it places us at the hands of discipline, for those of us who can summon it, or the subject of our whims, for those who can’t.
This book will find a permanent home on my desk within reach. Even if it only serves as a reminder that our established protocols and patterns sometimes need adjustment or justification.
The premise for our decisions is often influenced by imperfect information. This leads us to make poor decisions. Yet even when we have access to perfect information, we tend to make poor decisions due to our reliance on mental shortcuts, false believes, and the influence of social interactions. Nudge, written by Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein in 2008, attempts to improve our decisions about health, wealth, and happiness. [Note: a newer, final edition was published in 2021.]
This book centers around the concept of nudges, behavioral psychology and economics. Nudges are small, simple changes to the environment or choices presented to people to influence their decision without undermining their freedom of choice. In the words of Thaler and Sunstein:
“A nudge is any aspect of the choice architecture that alters people’s behavior in a predictable way without forbidding any options or significantly changing their economic incentives. To count as a mere nudge, the intervention must be easy and cheap to avoid. Nudges are not mandates. Putting fruit at eye level counts as a nudge. Banning junk food does not.”
Effective “nudges” are the result of what Thaler calls “choice architectures”: Instances in which people actively design menus, store layouts and other environments in which other people make decisions, such that design attributes “nudge” users’ decisions in certain directions. Free choice doesn’t necessarily lead to good decisions, according to Thaler, especially in cases with too many options. For example, in one large company’s health insurance package, employees were offered 48 possible plans, which led many to choose plans which were financially worse for them than the default plan. The book continues with a wealth of examples applicable to a plethora of social transactions.
Thaler’s premise for choice architecture is the concept of liberal paternalism. In other words, private and public institutions are allowed and encouraged to affect citizen’s behavior while also respecting freedom of choice and the outcome of choice. There are obvious drawbacks to this concept namely lack of clear boundaries, distributive injustice, and to an extreme extend it poses an insult to (human) autonomy.
In conclusion, I could have had the same learning experience by limiting my time to the first five chapters of part one and the last four chapters of part five of this book. Part two to four aren’t really new information but examples and justifications for their theory of libertarian paternalism and choice architecture. I recommend these parts for quick access to a specific situation for they can be consumed standalone out of context. For a casual drive or background listen, I found the Freakonomics episode on Nudging to be entertaining.
“All too often, we are painted with the Val Kilmer “Iceman” stereotype – cool, capable speed addicts who live on the edge for the sheer thrill. We live harder, party harder, womanize harder, and are somehow larger than life. This book will challenge the stereotype. We are flesh and blood. We live in a dangerous world that whipsaws us from elation to fear in a heartbeat. This brotherhood conceals its emotions to outsiders. […] I can’t fly anymore, but my heart is still up there.”
These are the words of Dan Pedersen, retired Captian for the Navy and founder of the United States Navy Fighter Weapons School program known as Top Gun. His book, with the subtitle ‘An American Story’, combines autobiographic elements of his life with military history that forever changed how we fight wars. It is jam-packed with incredible detail, stories, and experiences that date back to the early 1950s. As I read through the book, I found myself taking deliberate breaks to research some of his stories – each easily material for a standalone Hollywood movie. And, parts of his story were already turned into Hollywood masterpieces, which makes the information density of this book, so fascinating.
We are all standing on the shoulders of somebody else, someone who came before us to blaze a trail or pave the way. His reflections on his father, mindful of this taking place in a long-gone era, left me in awe. It’s a level of devotion and commitment that seems to have disappeared from present generations: “My dad, a veteran of World War II, had served in Europe in the Army Signal Corps, keeping communications flowing between the front lines and headquarters. He came home to Illinois in 1945 to find his job had been filled. Victory in Europe cost him his career, and he found himself forced to start over in the middle age with a family depending on him. Never showing us the fear he surely felt, he moved us to California, believing that every problem can be overcome by hard work. He got a job laying pipelines in Palm Springs. After a shift in the sun, which baked his Scandinavian skin to leather, he would come home with twelve-hour days in his eyes. He never complained; he worked and lived for us. His example of resilience instilled in me that same devotion. I was blessed and I knew it.”
Again, the information density of this book makes it tempting to write a novel about each of his details and stories, but– for the sake of this post– I will try to limit myself to some of the more memorable passages. Pedersen enlisted in the Navy as a mechanic. When thinking about one of the most decorated and accomplished fighter pilot programs, it is not unreasonable to assume it would have started with the Air Force, a pilot, an aviator, but this detail– like so many details of his career– illustrates the happenstance and luck that comes with creating something larger than life. In one section, Pedersen writes about his fear of being assigned to a non-fighter command, or worse, to be commanded to a non-flying role in the Navy. As luck would have it, he would be assigned to the all-weather, fighter squadron with the Skyray as his primary aircraft.
“[…] one of my new squadron mates greeted me with a grin and said, ‘Welcome to the best squadron in the United States Air Force!’ Mom had told me to go make the best life I could. Carry on. Move forward. Easy things to say. Yet here I was, surrounded by men driven by the same passion for flight that burned in me. They were achievers, hard chargers, type A. The kind of men whose respect, once earned, offered meaning never found anywhere else. These men were among the best pilots in the Navy, and here they were opening a place for me in their circle. That night, I found my tribe, the men who would teach me to be a fighter pilot.”
The incentive to start Top Gun was due to the unacceptable losses of aircraft and airmen during the Vietnam War. During World War II, the kill ratio would be around 19:1, meaning one American aircraft would eliminate nineteen hostile aircraft. During the Vietnam War, largely due to Russian support, the kill ratio was a mere 2:1. “When you start a fight, you should always assume you’re facing the very best. Otherwise, chances are you’re going to have a really bad day.” Every service member feels this dark pit in the stomach when losses are reported. War is hell and losses are inevitable, but senseless losses, sending troops into hostile territory without sufficient strategy and tactics to accomplish success, or worse, to meet a political promise, are infuriating. Taking the initiative to mitigate these losses and improve overall performance almost becomes a duty at that point. However, as most start-up stories go, beginnings are not always as romantic as hindsight suggests.
“When Sam and I informed our skipper, Commander Hank Halleland, that I had agreed to serve as the Navy Fighter Weapons School’s first officer in Charge, he had only one directive: ‘Don’t kill anybody, and don’t lose an airplane.’ […] He also made it clear that the Navy was funding us on thin wooden nickels. We would have no classroom space, ready room, or administrative office, no maintainers and mechanics assigned to us, no airplanes of our own, only loaners. And, of course, we would have no money. […] There was one more thing: our deadline for preparing a curriculum and having it ready for the first class of students was short: sixty days. Aside from that, I suppose the job was a real plum.” Pedersen’s attitude is surely a factor that allowed Top Gun to thrive from its inception point, but reviewing this from today’s point-of-view, the obstacles that had to be overcome, and the shortness of support despite these incredibly high losses, make it hard to relate to his resilience and optimism that this program could actually work. Again, as luck would have it, if you’re surrounded by great leaders, greatness can ensue:
“Captain Ault described what had to be done, but – bless him for his wisdom and foresight– he said nothing about how it should be done. He prescribed the creation of the Navy Fighter Weapons School but did not say what it should teach, how it should be taught, or how it should be set up.”
When I read through this section, I remembered the few leaders in my professional career who were secure enough the permit this decentralized command structure–this freedom to execute. Few leaders can resist the temptation of micro-management; especially if leadership pays attention to every move, and careers could be made by projecting the “right” signals. It speaks volumes about the quality of the Naval command structure at the time when the political landscape began to grow tired of the Vietnam War, the losses, and the cost associated with the war. It perhaps led to Pedersen’s most obvious but often ignored takeaway:
“Look around any room and you’ll realize that your people are everything. It doesn’t matter if it’s a business, a charity, a government agency, or a military unit. Your people are your destiny. We had to be successful or our careers and reputations would be finished.”
I am certain that I can read this book again and again, and I will discover more depth in each of his stories and learn more about aspects of military and aviation history. That being said, the information density slightly impedes this book from being a page-turner. In some respects, that is a great signal for lessons to be learned. On the other hand, a few more weeks of editing could have made the content a bit more digestible. For fans of aviation, this book is a must. Its leadership lessons are nonchalant and often so simple and timeless that it is easy to overlook or downplay them, but taken at face value, this book offers the priceless insights for starting an organization that can become larger than life.
If you are going to do, do it. Recounting a life of pursuit, drive, and relentless optimism.
To categorize this book under self-help would infuriate Arnold. He views the label of a self-made man as a charming myth. In reality, he got a lot of help from hundreds of people. This is especially true for his parents raising him right despite their flaws. Arnold found support in Munich, not far from Austria, where he was able to pump iron and get his first experience with running a fitness business. Joe Weider, a bodybuilding entrepreneur before bodybuilding was an industry, invested in Arnold by facilitating opportunities that would allow Arnold to prove his drive, realize his dreams, and demonstrate his astute business acumen. He admits he would have never made it if it wasn’t for the kind help and support from others. Perhaps, this philosophical viewpoint lays the foundation for the book “Be Useful” – to others and the world at large.
I have not read any other Schwarzenegger books, but I have seen plenty of his movies. Ironically, it was a stand-up comedy special that put Arnold’s life story on my radar. In “Be Useful” he chronicles aspects of his journey without too much detail on the actual history, but with in-depth access to his mindset at the time. It is no surprise that Arnold’s foundation for all of his success is a simple and clear vision. In German, you can describe this as “Fernweh”, a deep convulsing desire for experiences never had, sensations never felt. Arnold describes his childhood as filled with dreams of America. This faraway land of the free, home of the brave where nothing is impossible. His advice on this is simple: don’t be afraid to look yourself in the eyes and really see. The idea of starting with a broad vision, zooming in, and making space for deep reflection isn’t inherently new. David Goggins is known for his Accountability Mirror. Steve Jobs stated
“For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today? ‘ And whenever the answer has been no for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.”
Deep, critical reflection and introspective moments have become a rare form of leisure experience in our modern world full of instant gratification and consumerism. If I lose my mind tomorrow, I hope to retain (or relearn) the idea of facing myself and envision what could be.
A cultural phenomenon I seem to share with Arnold is a healthy ignorance of naysayers. He describes this attitude as a need for doubt and laughter of others because his upbringing in Austria involved plenty of negative reinforcement. Germans and Austrians are often viewed as harsh and mean characters with little patience for tomfoolery and lollygagging. Embracing opposition and adversity with a smile allowed him to reinforce his vision and confidence so that he could throw all his drive behind it. He writes
“If millions of European immigrants can come to America with nothing but a suitcase and a dream and make life for themselves, why couldn’t I?”
The most intriguing part of “Be Useful” is the glimpse into his finances at the time of his arrival in the United States. The entire sequence is closely tied to actual historical events playing out in his favor. Arnold already had earned some income in Europe as a fitness instructor and from competition rewards when he moved to the United States. While living on the couches of friends in Venice, he would sell bodybuilding booklets. The distribution deal was a cleverly constructed advertising agreement where he would volunteer for photo shoots in exchange for ad space. At the same time, he enrolled in business, language, and acting classes knowing each of these studies would expand his horizon and field of opportunities in America. When he wasn’t lifting weights, selling his booklet, or studying, he would work as a bricklayer. Arnold had no background or experience in masonry but thought laying bricks would be a good workout in between workouts. To his luck, his business catered to Americans interested in European-style houses at an economic time when the housing market was in a bubble.
Undoubtedly, the man found himself in an opportune time. But more importantly, he had the wits to recognize the times and the drive to take advantage of it. In his words, those days felt so full and rich because he was always switched on. He was energized and excited because he just spent two hours moving closer to achieving his vision. Isn’t this experience, the near flow state something we as a people call “a perfect life ” and we all aspire to experience?
While reading Arnold’s guidance on life, I couldn’t help myself but hear his iconic accent ring through my head as I thought through each sentence. It was a unique, fun reading experience. Arnold Schwarzenegger has attracted many critics, but whatever one might think of him, his unwavering drive in pursuit of his goals is inspiring. Should you pay $28 for it? No.
Reading a book takes time, immersion, and reflection. For anyone interested in learning more about “Be Useful” without investing this much money, I can recommend the Jocko Podcast episode with Arnold Schwarzenegger.
As a little “Schmankerl”, I mentioned a stand-up comedy special earlier. Comedian Bill Burr created “You People Are All The Same” in which he describes the stupendous odds a person needed to overcome to achieve what Arnold has achieved in his lifetime. Viewer discretion is advised.
Immigration is traversing multiple worlds and assuming multiple identities while clinging to the periphery of a long-gone past fraught with truth, fiction, and violence. On the surface, however, we’re living and breathing the American Dream drenched in blood, bureaucracy, and alcohol.
Ocean Vuong’s novel, “On Earth, We’re Briefly Gorgeous,” is an exploration of the limits of language, horizon, and empathy. The structural, formal, and thematic elements of the novel are woven together in a letter from son to illiterate mother. It illustrates the complex relationship many immigrants have with the English language. Language becomes a focal point, highlighting its power when unfettered. Voung has a particular way of visualizing immigration not as a failure but as a form of salvation and an opportunity for renewal. Consider this:
“Because freedom, I am told, is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.”
Throughout the novel, Voung reflects on enduring abuse from a mentally ill, illiterate, and sometimes incapacitated mother. His torn state of mind between an irrefutable family bond and a painful coming-of-age experience in America. And his finding solace in the act of reading and writing. It compounds to powerful emotions that are hard to overread. Vuong’s extraordinary use of language and form is evident throughout the narrative.
“On Earth, We’re Briefly Gorgeous” is a hot-and-cold novel that is both laden with complexity and clarity by bouncing between a wealth of cultural themes. At times, I found it beautiful. At times, I found it overwhelming.
