I’ve mistaken confidence for understanding many times throughout my years, and in nearly every instance, this has gotten me into trouble. The trouble has ranged from getting lost in the woods to losing my way with my career. In early 2008, just days before the collapse of Lehman Brothers, which triggered one of the biggest financial crises in recent times, I decided to leave a secure job with a large non-profit to pursue a career in finance. I thought I had it figured out, understood what was happening, and that my plan was sound. Less than a year later, I was back at the non-profit, lucky to land a job after being let go from the finance company.
Thankfully most instances of the misalignment have not been as dramatic. Still, after enough similar experiences, I wanted to understand why I was habitually making decisions whose results did not match my expectations. Why was there a gap between my expectations and reality?
Research into human decision-making has been giving us clues for years. The Dunning-Kruger effect, for example, is a well-researched cognitive bias theory that suggests people make overly confident decisions even when they lack expertise and knowledge. I had been vaguely aware of this theory and other similar models during this time. However, I didn’t possess the intellectual humility or self-awareness to see how I was applying flawed models to my decisions. It wasn’t until I started working with a therapist that I saw how some unconsciously applied decision-making tools contributed to my overconfidence problems. As my self-awareness slowly increased, I caught a glimpse into the mindset that led me to make a risky career change as the world economy was melting down.
I realized that I had let myself fall prey to the persuasive idea that the model of the world I had constructed with my thoughts and impressions was an accurate picture of reality. I allowed myself to be convinced that the map I used to navigate was not just a map but was the map, a 1-for-1 expression of the actual territory of the world. It seems so obvious now - of course, it isn’t. The map is not the territory.
When I read the linked essay on FS.Blog, it was the first time this idea penetrated my consciousness and stayed with me. By “map,” I’m referring to our mental projections of the world. When we walk into a room, we create maps and make assumptions about everyone there and what’s going on. They’re how we navigate our relationships. There are small maps for simple decisions and grand maps describing what we think a good life looks like. We need maps to navigate life and make decisions because we are limited beings and can only process a subset of the information available.
For better or worse, our maps are made up of more than just the raw data we process from the environment. All that raw data comes to us through our limited senses and is then processed in our minds through the filters of our biases, preferences, and prior life experiences. The information that feeds our maps has gone through a game of telephone. What was fed into our minds initially will have changed subtly or drastically by the time we’ve processed it. When we’re at our best, we take the time to make a detailed map of a given situation - but even then, the map is only an approximation. We cannot realistically process the near-infinite available information. We suffer from “paralysis by analysis” if we even begin to move down that path.
In human relations, particularly, we’re continually operating at an informational deficit. All the information our fellow humans have within their minds is inaccessible and thus isn’t included in our maps. To compensate, we create maps based on inference and assumption. We project what others must be thinking and make our decisions based on that.
However, when we recognize and use the maps for what they are, we may make our way through life with less trouble. When driving or hiking and using a paper map (or GPS), we rarely need to remind ourselves that those tools are not depictions of the actual territory. We know this and make adjustments as necessary - we’re not overly confident and therefore don’t find ourselves driving the wrong way down a one-way street or walking off the edge of a cliff.
We run into trouble, or at least I have, when we overvalue our impressions, intelligence, and powers of comprehension and forget that the map is not the territory. We can convince ourselves that the upcoming meeting with A and B will be terrible because (our map tells us) they don’t know what they’re doing and want me to solve their problem. Yet, in most cases, the meeting is fine (reality); A and B knew what they were doing (my maps didn’t have all the information), and all they wanted from me was access to some bit of data they didn't have. When we go into situations convinced our map is the territory, we likely set the situation off in a direction it doesn't need to go. We all do this as human beings - it’s a way for us to take a bit of control over the chaos of life. It’s also how we unconsciously “other” those around us. We allow our maps to convince us we know why our spouse is mad at us (they’re spiteful), why that person is living on the street (they’re lazy), or why they’re wrong (isn’t it obvious?).
What if I acknowledged the limitations instead of believing the map so thoroughly? Perhaps instead of being confident that we “know” how things are, we take a step back and allow for the possibility that we might be wrong, missing some critical piece of information, or are moving too quickly and assuming where things are heading. Maria Popova says, “Nothing, not one thing, hurts us more — or causes us to hurt others more — than our certainties. The stories we tell ourselves about the world and the foregone conclusions with which we cork the fount of possibility are the supreme downfall of our consciousness. They are also the inevitable cost of survival, of navigating a vast and complex reality, most of which remains forever beyond our control and comprehension. And yet, in our effort to parse the world, we sever ourselves from the full range of its beauty, tensing against the tenderness of life.”
This captures it beautifully. By relying too heavily on our maps, we tend to avoid the possibility of other sources of information and potential outcomes. And at worst, if we cling too strongly to our maps, we distance ourselves from the beauty of the world’s chaos.
I was recently considering another significant career change. This time, not into finance, but to a helping profession. As I explored what it would take to make this change and its impact on my family, I noticed some old thinking patterns creeping in. Thankfully, I could see the gilded sheen I was putting on the selective information I took in. So, instead of turning up the volume on my confidence, I took that step back, sought out more and varied counsel, and left open the possibility (dare I say it?!?) that I could be misguided.
I was.
Increased self-awareness has also helped me identify times when I recognized the map and didn’t invest my confidence into it. These times have resulted in some of the best decisions and in moments where I felt most integrated. They cropped up when I was parenting and learning to let my children grow into themselves without expecting them to be something I wanted. Another instance occurred just a year ago; I was considering volunteering at a hospice home. The map I had created showed danger ahead. Part of me believed I wasn't cut out for this work, but another part felt called towards it. I used the map’s information, stayed humble, and leaned into the experience as it unfolded. My time at the home has been transformative.
To consider this more broadly for a moment. Imagine how our public discourse might go if we acknowledged that we’re all using these necessarily flawed maps all the time. If we had the courage and wisdom to slow down and recognize that the way we see a situation is based on the map and that there is a vast unknown territory beyond it. Territory that is more complex and beautiful (or terrible) than the map shows. This takes courage - because we must accept that we might be wrong. Admitting that we do not know as much as we think we know is hard. We might even need to integrate information from sources we would rather ignore or have traditionally devalued.
Although we must use our maps in many situations, when we acknowledge them and recognize they are not the territory, we open our senses to the complexity of the world around us. We become vulnerable to the unknown. In that backward step, we face life’s beautiful, terrifying, uncontrollable complexity. We have to engage directly with the incomprehensible other humans around us. That step back is a doozy. And yet, this way of approaching life has changed me. It’s a subtle shift with profound implications.
There is a paradoxical wisdom in admitting that we don't know what is going on. And better maps are not the answer - a better map is still only a map. We currently move through the world is by guessing what is next. When we can pause to acknowledge we don’t know for sure and that the map we’re using may be wrong, we paradoxically see a more complete picture of reality. By dropping our reliance on our maps, we give ourselves the freedom to experience the world as it really is.