Don McMinn

An analogy is a comparison between two things, typically for the purpose of explanation or clarification. An analogy shows how two things are alike, with the ultimate goal of making a point about the comparison.

Analogical thinking is any type of thinking that relies upon analogy. It is the practice of recognizing conceptual similarities in multiple domains or scenarios that may seem to have little in common on the surface. Analogical thinking takes the new and makes it familiar, or takes the familiar and puts it in a new light, and allows humans to reason through problems they have never seen in unfamiliar contexts.

For example, the ubiquitous Velcro was invented using analogical thinking. 

Since the beginning of time humans have walked through fields of weeds and had cockle-burs stick to their clothing. It wasn’t until 1941 that a Swiss engineer, George de Mestral, while on a hunting trip, wondered how the burs attached to his clothes and his dog’s hair. When he got home he looked at one under a microscope and saw that it had multiple hooks that would attach to loops in fabric.  

It took de Mestral eight years to develop his invention, which consisted of two strips of nylon fabric— one strip containing thousands of small hooks, the other strip containing small loops. When the two strips are pressed together they form a strong bond. He patented his invention in 1955 and soon turned it into a useful product – Velcro.

De Mestral used analogical thinking to use information from one domain to help solve a problem in another domain.

Here’s another example of analogical thinking, this one from the business world, that demonstrates how an organization in one sector can learn lessons from an organization in another.

Throughout the mid-1990s, Intel had resisted providing cheap microprocessors for inexpensive PCs. During a 1997 training seminar, Intel’s top management team learned a lesson about the steel industry from Harvard Business School professor Clayton Christensen.

In the 1970s, upstart minimills established themselves in the steel business by making cheap concrete-reinforcing bars known as rebar. Established players like U.S. Steel ceded the low end of the business to them, but deeply regretted that decision when the minimills crept into higher-end products. Intel’s CEO at the time, Andy Grove, seized on the steel analogy, referring to cheap PCs as “digital rebar.” The lesson was clear, Grove argued: “If we lose the low end today, we could lose the high end tomorrow.” Intel soon began to promote its low-end Celeron processor more aggressively to makers and buyers of inexpensive PCs. [From HBR article titled How Strategists Really Think: Tapping the Power of Analogy, April 2005.] 

Analogical thinking is often spawned in conversations among people from different areas of expertise. Sometimes our expertise works against us—it creates tunnel vision—so we need help seeing things from a new perspective. This explains why one of the best ways to solve a difficult problem in one particular domain is to get input from people who specialize in other domains. For instance, when stymied by a challenging problem, a group of engineers might benefit from the input of an artist, historian, and anthropologist because they “see” things differently. Analogical problem-solving occurs when a solution to a known problem is applied to solving a structurally similar problem. 

Often, a complex problem has already been solved; we’re just not looking in the right places for the solution. 

When I’m with my grandson, Benjamin, I always try to say “yes” to his requests. “Papa, will you take me fishing? Will you play with me? Can we go swimming?” Unless it’s impossible or imprudent to do so, I usually say yes.

I do the same at work; when a colleague or direct report makes an appeal, I try to respond in a positive way. 

This approach has helped my marriage. For years, both Mary and I suffered from a “no-mentality.” She would ask me to do something and I would demur. I wouldn’t necessarily say “no” (I’m more cunning than that) but I would hesitate, postpone, ignore, or offer an alternative. In essence, I declined. Mary often did the same to me. Now we try to say “yes” to each other, or at least craft a positive response such as, “What an interesting idea; let’s talk about that tonight.” But if it’s a simple request (Would you clean your study?) I should simply comply.   

In your interpersonal relationships, which word do you tend to say the most: yes or no? What is your default response? I’m not recommending you be a “yes-person”—someone who agrees with everything that is said and endorses or supports without criticism, every opinion or proposal. I am encouraging us to have a positive, permissive outlook on life, particularly when responding to people’s requests. The alternative is to be oppositional; quick to resist or dissent.

Sir Richard Branson once said: “I have enjoyed life a lot more by saying yes than by saying no.” And I’m sure those around him have also enjoyed that persuasion. 

Here’s a good article from Fortune magazine titled “Five Reasons Why Saying “Yes” Is The Best Decision For Your Career.”

I recently strolled down the aisles of our local Whole Foods grocery store. I couldn’t help but notice that they offer twelve types of apples. Twelve. Likewise, the menu at Starbucks is extreme. Choosing a 401(k) plan is complicated. Deciding on a cable provider and the level of programming can take an inordinate amount of time. There are just too many choices. 

American psychologist Barry Schwartz advises against offering so many choices.

In his book, The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less, Schwartz argues that sometimes, offering fewer choices is better than offering many. A large selection can lead to paralysis and indecision. 

For instance, eliminating consumer choices can greatly reduce anxiety for shoppers. 

To test this theory, a supermarket set up a stand where customers could sample 24 varieties of jelly. They could try as many as they liked and then buy them at a discount. The next day, the owners carried out the same experiment with only six flavors. They sold ten times more jelly on day two. The first day, the wide range of choices was overwhelming to customers so they bought less.

Because modern Americans value autonomy, self-determination, and freedom of choice, we assume that more choices mean better options and greater satisfaction. But apparently, there is a level at which too many choices is counterproductive.

Choice overload can make you question your decisions before you even make them, it can set you up for unrealistically high expectations, and it can make you blame yourself if you choose unwisely. In the long run, too many options can lead to decision-making paralysis, anxiety, discontentment, and may cause us to confuse the unimportant with the important.  

The key is balance: Offer people choices but not too many. And when making personal choices, consider fewer and simpler options, and don’t belabor making decisions.  

Look again at the picture at the top of this post. What do you see?

Most of us see a black dot. We overlook the white space and focus on the one, small dot.

Now think of the entire picture as representing a person’s life—it symbolizes the essence and totality of who a person is and what he has done—and the black dot denotes his worst moment or worst trait. Just as our eyes are drawn to the black dot, we often tend to focus on the “black dot” in people’s lives, discounting their more prevalent positive areas. We often judge others based on a single issue.

But we shouldn’t form our opinion of someone based on their worst moment (she had an affair; he got fired from a job; he blew up during a staff meeting.) or their worst trait (he’s always tardy; she’s financially imprudent; she’s vain about her clothes.) While our observations may be accurate, it’s unfair to focus exclusively on them and emphasize them.    

There are two main reasons why we shouldn’t judge others.

1. It’s impossible to truly understand why people act the way they do. 

Henry David Thoreau asked, “Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?” It’s that difficult. Every person has a story; there’s a reason behind who they are and what they’ve done, but we’re usually not privy to that information. 

Imagine walking through the woods and you see a dog. It looks cute and friendly so you approach the dog to pet it. Suddenly it snarls and tries to bite you. The dog no longer seems very cute and now you’re both afraid and angry. Then, the wind blows away the leaves on the ground and you see that the dog has one of its legs caught in a trap. Now, you feel compassion for the dog. You realize it became aggressive because of its pain and suffering.

We’ve heard the adage, “Never judge another person until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes.” It’s good advice—try to see life from another person’s perspective—and it essentially eliminates judging others because it’s impossible to truly experience someone else’s life. You can’t “walk in someone’s shoes” for a few feet much less a mile. The moral is: Don’t judge.

2. All of us need grace.

Someone has suggested: Don’t judge someone just because they sin differently than you.

In Matthew 7, Jesus says, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.” Then he tells an anecdote to explain why: “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” The key word in the story is hypocrite. 

Jesus is exposing a blind, ignorant, hypocritical, self-righteous judging that overlooks one’s own faults and focuses on the sins of others. His anecdote is intentionally extreme and a bit humorous: There are two dudes working in a woodshop. One guy looks at the other guy and says with a mixture of disdain and contempt, and with a smirk, “You nincompoop, you’ve got some sawdust in your eye. Come here and I’ll help you with that problem.” All the while he’s got a two-by-four sticking out of his own eye.

I think it’s part of the dark side of our human nature: It’s easy for us to see other people’s faults but we’re blinded to our own. 

Of course, there’s a need for balance relative to recognizing and responding to right and wrong. In society and in our personal relationships, we need reasonable and fair laws, expectations, and boundaries, and sensible responses to violators. I’m not going to address that important topic here because it may distract from my main point. 

Referring back to the picture at the top of this post, instead of obsessing on the black dot (people’s foibles), let’s train ourselves to do the opposite—focus on people’s best moments and their best attributes. And hopefully they will extend to us the same grace.