Don McMinn

I recently had two experiences that reminded me of Ockham’s Razor.

• • My refrigerator’s ice-maker stopped working and ice cubes dwindled to a dozen a day. Mary and I considered buying a new refrigerator (the one we have is 20+ years old). Another option was to replace just the ice-maker; I had done that about six years ago and could do it again. Fortunately, before I made a major move, I realized a simple solution. The previous winter I had turned down the thermostat on the freezer. Adjusting it to a colder setting solved the problem. 
  • My lawn sprinkler system wasn’t working. I replaced the timer, but it still didn’t work, so I scheduled a repairman to fix it. I mentioned the problem to a friend, who suggested I check to see if the water valve to the system was turned off. It was. So with one twist of the valve the problem was solved.

Ockham’s Razor is the problem-solving principle attributed to philosopher and theologian William of Ockham (c.1287–1347). It is sometimes paraphrased as: the simplest solution is most likely the right one. Ockham’s Razor says that when presented with competing theories, one should select the solution with the fewest assumptions.

For instance, when considering the following problem, which solution is most likely to be correct? Problem: a fence post is broken. Possible solutions: 1. An albino cow, looking for its long-lost sibling, crashed through the fence in despair. Or 2. An old nail rusted through the fence post and broke.

The medical community has its own version of Ockham’s Razor. Zebra is the code word for arriving at an exotic medical diagnosis when a more commonplace explanation is more likely. It is shorthand for an aphorism coined in the late 1940s by Theodore Woodward, professor at the University of Maryland School of Medicine, who instructed his medical interns, “When you hear hoofbeats, think of horses not zebras.”

The next time you’re confronted with a problem, first consider the simplest solution before progressing toward more complex solutions. 

Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton was a polar explorer who led four expeditions exploring Antarctica. He is best known for his 1914-1916 attempt to traverse the Antarctic which, although unsuccessful, became famous as a story of remarkable perseverance and survival.

There are many books about the Endurance Expedition (Endurance is the name of the ship), and they all portray Shackleton as an exemplary leader. But I recently watched a documentary that caused me to think differently. [Shackleton’s Captain on Amazon Prime. The film focuses on the ship’s captain, Frank Worsley, who was the second in command under Shackleton.]

On October 26, 1914, the Endurance left Buenos Aires, headed for Antarctica. Eleven days later it arrived at South Georgia Island, a Norwegian whaling station. The whalers there reported that the early summer was colder than usual and the ice conditions to the south were the worst they had ever seen. They strongly advised Shackleton not to go, but he ignored their advice and ordered the ship to continue on the journey. Days later they encountered pack ice a thousand miles farther north than expected. It was ludicrous to continue, but despite the pleas of the ship’s captain, he insisted that they continue south.

It was a terrible mistake. Within days the ship became trapped in ice. As one crew member said, “We felt like an almond stuck in the middle of a chocolate bar.” The ice eventually crushed the ship and the 28 members of the expedition had to abandon ship and set up camp on floating ice. For the next two years they struggled to survive unthinkable challenges. Remarkably, the entire crew made it back safely. 

But why did Shackleton risk the lives of his men?

Historians note that before the expedition, Shackleton had trouble at home—he was having an affair with an American actress and his brother was convicted of fraud that might incriminate Ernest—so he needed to create a new narrative about his life. Furthermore, it would have been a blow to his ego to abandon or even postpone the trip.

He was also profoundly self-promoting. Before the ship set sail, he had each crew member sign over all rights to their journals and diaries. He made sure all publicity promoted him as the hero. However, the real hero of the expedition was Frank Worsley, the captain. (Shackleton was inexperienced at sea, having never even been in a medium-sized boat.) But few people know of the valiant work of Worsley. 

It’s commendable for a leader to lead well in the midst of a crisis (think Churchill during WW2), but if the crisis was avoidable and caused by the leader, there’s no glory in that. 

Amos (Tversky) liked to say that if you are asked to do anything—go to a party, give a speech, lift a finger—you should never answer right away, even if you are sure that you want to do it. “Wait a day,” Amos said, “and you’ll be amazed how many of those invitations you would have accepted yesterday, you’ll refuse after you have had a day to think it over.” [The Undoing Project, Michael Lewis, page 196]

Often, decisions  must be made quickly.

• • • Some decisions are trivial and inconsequential. When ordering at a restaurant, just choose. 
    • Some decisions must be made quickly. If your car needs a battery, buy one.
    • With some decisions, the right choice is obvious so there’s no benefit in delaying. Change your route to avoid stalled traffic.

But most decisions can be delayed, and doing so may produce a better and more confident choice.

Postponing even for 24-48 hours is enough time to help avoid impulsive and rash decisions. Often, our emotions inordinately affect our decisions and cause us to make bad choices that we later regret. But emotions are short-lived; delay decisions and emotions will subside. For instance, if you’re overly excited about something, or charmed by someone, or fearful, or feel intimidated or coerced—wait a few hours and the emotions will dissipate and you can make a more rational decision.   

This principle should also inform how we ask others to make decisions. When asking people to make an important decision, don’t ask for an immediate response; give them ample time to study the implications and think through options. It’s respectful to say, “I need you to make a decision about an issue. Let me share, right now, all the facts I know, and then take time to think about it and let me know when you’re comfortable making the decision.”

For sure, push the pause button when making important decisions about your time, money, future, reputation, and values.

Problem: Nothing was more sacred aboard a ship than respecting the chain of command. On a ship, the captain reigns supreme. — Slade

Solution: In industries in which human error can lead to devastating consequences, it’s important to foster good communication that respects the hierarchy while allowing room for debate. No one makes a decision in a vacuum. — Slade

In her book, Into the Raging Sea, Rachel Slade describes the events leading up to the sinking of the container ship El Faro in 2015. It was the largest U.S. maritime accident since World War II. The incompetent and egotistical captain, Michael Davidson, steered the ship directly into the eye of Hurricane Joaquin. Thirty foot waves and 120-mph winds sank the ship and all 33 crew members died. The recovered black box had recorded 26 hours of conversation on the navigation bridge leading up to the sinking. The audio recording revealed that every officer and many of the crew on board knew the captain was making a fatal mistake, but no one spoke up because in maritime culture it is unacceptable to challenge a captain’s decisions. It is inappropriate to speak truth to power. 

It takes extreme courage to speak truth to power. Even for those who possess solid emotional fortitude, it can be challenging and uncomfortable. It can also be hazardous to your reputation and livelihood. Rarely does someone in authority seek out voices of opposition and when those voices speak without invitation or permission, they are often sanctioned. If the issues are major and the stakes high, it’s wise to have a back-up plan in case “power” overreacts. 

To be balanced and fair, sometimes the “truth-speaker” is misguided or uninformed, has an agenda to advance, or has impure motives for challenging authority. But more times than not, authority’s intimidation silences sound input.   

Twenty five years ago I served on staff at a church where the former pastor had led the church to build a 7,000-seat auditorium (the old sanctuary seated 1,100), and the church went from being debt-free to paying $50,000 per week in interest on the new loan. Interestingly, God “called the pastor into evangelism” several months before the building project was finished. 

How did this happen? Why didn’t businesspersons in the church speak up when they saw the impending train wreck? Two issues were responsible: he was a very charismatic person who could easily beguile people, and there were no checks and balances built into the governance of the church. Surely someone had doubts, but no one spoke truth to power. We (newly appointed staff members) were tasked with cleaning up the mess, which was virtually impossible.

The antidote to this toxic social disorder is continuous robust discussion. When robust discussion is part of the culture, unilateral mistakes are seldom made. But in its absence, someone needs to speak up. 

I’ll end with a story that illustrates the power of open and unfiltered conversation. 

In the 1980s Delta Air Lines suffered a series of embarrassing incidents involving pilot error. “We didn’t kill anyone,” said Jack Maher, then-head of pilot training, “but we’d had pilots get lost, landing at the wrong airports.” The incidents almost always could be traced back to a bad decision made by a Delta captain.

They hired psychologist Amos Tversky to help solve the problem. Amos told them, “You’re not going to change people’s decision making under duress. You aren’t going to stop pilots from making these mental errors.” He suggested that Delta change its decision-making environments. At that time, the cockpit culture of a commercial airliner did not encourage crew members to point out the mental errors of the man in charge. The way to stop the captain from landing the plane in the wrong airport, Tversky insisted, was to train others in the cockpit to question his judgment. 

Mayer said, “We changed the culture in the cockpit and the autocratic jerk became no longer acceptable. Those mistakes haven’t happened since” [from The Undoing Project by Michael Lewis, page 317].

When done appropriately and respectfully, I see little downside to speaking truth to power.