I dag, vil jeg tage jer med rundt i verden på 18 minutter. Min hjemmebase er i USA, men lad os begynde i den anden ende af kortet, i Kyoto, Japan, hvor jeg boede hos en japansk familie mens jeg lavede en del af min doktorafhandling for 15 år siden. Jeg vidste endda dengang at jeg ville møde kulturelle forskelle og misforståelser, men de poppede op da jeg mindst ventede det.
Today, I'm going to take you around the world in 18 minutes. My base of operations is in the U.S., but let's start at the other end of the map, in Kyoto, Japan, where I was living with a Japanese family while I was doing part of my dissertational research 15 years ago. I knew even then that I would encounter cultural differences and misunderstandings, but they popped up when I least expected it.
På min første dag, tog jeg til en restaurant, og jeg bestilte en kop grøn te med sukker. Efter en pause, sagde tjeneren, "Man putter ikke sukker i grøn te." "Det ved jeg," sagde jeg. "Jeg er klar over denne skik. Men jeg kan godt lide at min te er sød." Som svar, gav han mig en endnu mere høflig version af den samme forklaring. "Man putter ikke sukker i grøn te." "Jeg forstår," sagde jeg, "at japanerne ikke putter sukker i deres grønne te, men jeg vil gerne putte noget sukker i min grønne te." (Latter) Overrasket over min insisteren, nævnte tjeneren emnet for sin chef, Snart startede en lang diskussion, og til slut kom chefen over til mig og sagde, "Det er jeg meget ked af. Vi har ikke noget sukker." (Latter) Jamen, siden jeg ikke kunne få min te som jeg gerne ville have den, bestilte jeg en kop kaffe, som tjeneren kom prompte med. Liggende på min underkop var der to pakker sukker.
On my first day, I went to a restaurant, and I ordered a cup of green tea with sugar. After a pause, the waiter said, "One does not put sugar in green tea." "I know," I said. "I'm aware of this custom. But I really like my tea sweet." In response, he gave me an even more courteous version of the same explanation. "One does not put sugar in green tea." "I understand," I said, "that the Japanese do not put sugar in their green tea, but I'd like to put some sugar in my green tea." (Laughter) Surprised by my insistence, the waiter took up the issue with the manager. Pretty soon, a lengthy discussion ensued, and finally the manager came over to me and said, "I am very sorry. We do not have sugar." (Laughter) Well, since I couldn't have my tea the way I wanted it, I ordered a cup of coffee, which the waiter brought over promptly. Resting on the saucer were two packets of sugar.
Min fiasko til at skaffe mig selv en kop sød, grøn te handlede ikke om en simpel misforståelse. Dette handlede om en fundamentale forskel i vores ideer om valg. Fra mit amerikanske perspektiv, når en betalende kunde kommer med en rimelig forespørgsel baseret på hendes præferencer, har hun enhver ret til at få den forespørgsel efterkommet. Den amerikanske måde, for at citere Burger King, er at "få det på din måde," fordi, som Starbucks siger, "glæde ligger i ens valg." (Latter) Men fra det japanske perspektiv, er det deres pligt at beskytte dem der ikke ved bedre -- (Latter) i dette tilfælde, den ignorante gaijin -- fra at tage det forkerte valg. Lad os se det i øjnene: måden jeg ville have min te på var upassende ifølge de kulturelle standarder, og de gør deres bedste for at hjælpe mig med ikke at tabe ansigt.
My failure to procure myself a cup of sweet, green tea was not due to a simple misunderstanding. This was due to a fundamental difference in our ideas about choice. From my American perspective, when a paying customer makes a reasonable request based on her preferences, she has every right to have that request met. The American way, to quote Burger King, is to "have it your way," because, as Starbucks says, "happiness is in your choices." (Laughter) But from the Japanese perspective, it's their duty to protect those who don't know any better -- (Laughter) in this case, the ignorant gaijin -- from making the wrong choice. Let's face it: the way I wanted my tea was inappropriate according to cultural standards, and they were doing their best to help me save face.
Amerikanere har en tendens til at tro at de har nået en eller anden form for kulmination i måden hvorpå de udøver valg. De mener at valg, der set med amerikanske øjne bedst opfylder et medfødt og universelt begær for valg i alle mennesker. Desværre, er disse meninger baseret på formodninger der ikke altid er de samme i mange lande, i mange kulturer. Til tider er de ikke engang de samme ved Amerikas egne grænser. Jeg vil gerne diskutere nogle af formodninger og problemerne der er associeret med dem. I takt med at jeg gør det, håber jeg I vil begynde at tænke på nogle af jeres egne formodninger og hvordan de blev formet af jeres baggrund.
Americans tend to believe that they've reached some sort of pinnacle in the way they practice choice. They think that choice, as seen through the American lens best fulfills an innate and universal desire for choice in all humans. Unfortunately, these beliefs are based on assumptions that don't always hold true in many countries, in many cultures. At times they don't even hold true at America's own borders. I'd like to discuss some of these assumptions and the problems associated with them. As I do so, I hope you'll start thinking about some of your own assumptions and how they were shaped by your backgrounds.
Første formodning: hvis et valg påvirker en, så skal man selv være den der tager det. Dette er den eneste måde at sikre at der er gjort fuldstændig rede for ens præferencer og interesser. Det er essentielt for succes. I Amerika, den primære fokus af valg er individet. Mennesker må vælge for sig selv, og nogle gange holde fast i deres geværer, uanset hvad andre mennesker vil eller anbefaler. Det hedder "at være tro mod sig selv." Men drager alle individer fordel af at have sådan et tilgang til valg? Mark Lepper og jeg lavede en række studier hvor vi søgte at svare på dette spørgsmål. I et studie, som vi kørte i Japantown, San Francisco, tog vi syv til elleveårige anglo- og asiatisk-amerikanske børn ind til laboratoriet, og vi delte dem op i tre grupper.
First assumption: if a choice affects you, then you should be the one to make it. This is the only way to ensure that your preferences and interests will be most fully accounted for. It is essential for success. In America, the primary locus of choice is the individual. People must choose for themselves, sometimes sticking to their guns, regardless of what other people want or recommend. It's called "being true to yourself." But do all individuals benefit from taking such an approach to choice? Mark Lepper and I did a series of studies in which we sought the answer to this very question. In one study, which we ran in Japantown, San Francisco, we brought seven- to nine-year-old Anglo- and Asian-American children into the laboratory, and we divided them up into three groups.
Den første gruppe kom ind, og de blev hilst velkommen af Miss Smith, der viste dem seks store stakke af anagram puslespil. Børnene skulle vælge hvilken stak anagrammer de gerne ville lave, og de skulle endda vælge hvilken marker de ville skrive deres svar med. Da den anden gruppe af børn kom ind, blev de brugt det ind i det samme lokale, vist de samme anagrammer, men denne gang fortalte Miss Smith dem hvilke anagrammer de skulle lave og hvilke markerer de skulle skrive deres svar med. Nu da den tredje gruppe kom ind, blev de fortalt at deres anagrammer og deres markere var blevet valgt af deres mødre. (Latter) I virkeligheden, børnene der blev fortalt hvad de skulle gøre, hvad enten det var af Miss Smith eller deres mor, blev faktisk givet præcis den samme aktivitet, som deres modstykke i den første gruppe havde valgt frivilligt.
The first group came in, and they were greeted by Miss Smith, who showed them six big piles of anagram puzzles. The kids got to choose which pile of anagrams they would like to do, and they even got to choose which marker they would write their answers with. When the second group of children came in, they were brought to the same room, shown the same anagrams, but this time Miss Smith told them which anagrams to do and which markers to write their answers with. Now when the third group came in, they were told that their anagrams and their markers had been chosen by their mothers. (Laughter) In reality, the kids who were told what to do, whether by Miss Smith or their mothers, were actually given the very same activity, which their counterparts in the first group had freely chosen.
Med denne procedure, var vi i stand til at sikre at børnene på tværs af de tre grupper alle sammen lavede den samme aktivitet, og gjorde det nemmere for os at sammenligne præstationer. Så små forskelle i måden hvorpå vi administrerede aktiviteten gav slående forskelle i måden de blev udført. Anglo-amerikanere, de lavede to og en halv gange flere anagrammer når de fik lov til at vælge dem, sammenlignet med når det blev valgt for dem af Miss Smith eller deres mødre. Det gjorde ikke nogen forskel hvem der valgte, hvis opgaven blev dikteret af en anden, led deres præstation under det. Faktisk, nogle af børnene blev synlig flove da de fik fortalt at deres mødre var blevet konsulteret. (Latter) En pige der hed Mary sagde, "Spurgte I min mor?"
With this procedure, we were able to ensure that the kids across the three groups all did the same activity, making it easier for us to compare performance. Such small differences in the way we administered the activity yielded striking differences in how well they performed. Anglo-Americans, they did two and a half times more anagrams when they got to choose them, as compared to when it was chosen for them by Miss Smith or their mothers. It didn't matter who did the choosing, if the task was dictated by another, their performance suffered. In fact, some of the kids were visibly embarrassed when they were told that their mothers had been consulted. (Laughter) One girl named Mary said, "You asked my mother?"
(Latter)
(Laughter)
I modsætning til asiatisk-amerikanske børn der præsterede bedst når de troede at deres mødre havde valgt opgaven, næstbedst når de selv kunne vælge, og dårligst når de var blevet valgt af Miss Smith. En pige der hed Natsumi henvendte sig endda til Miss Smith da hun forlod lokalet, og trak i hendes kjole og spurgte, "Vil du venligst fortælle min mor at jeg gjorde det som hun bad om?" Førstegenerations børnene var stærkt påvirkede af deres immigrantforældres tilgang til valg. For dem, var valg ikke bare en måde at definere og forsikre deres individualitet, men en måde at skabe fællesskab og harmoni ved at rette sig efter valg truffet af mennesker som de stoler på og respekterer. Og hvis de havde et koncept om at være tro mod sig selv, var det selv, sandsynligvis, sammensat, ikke af et individ, men af et kollektiv. Succes handlede lige så meget om at glæde nøglefigurer som at tilfredsstille ens egne præferencer. Eller, skulle man sige at individets præferencer blev formet af særlige andres præferencer.
In contrast, Asian-American children performed best when they believed their mothers had made the choice, second best when they chose for themselves, and least well when it had been chosen by Miss Smith. A girl named Natsumi even approached Miss Smith as she was leaving the room and tugged on her skirt and asked, "Could you please tell my mommy I did it just like she said?" The first-generation children were strongly influenced by their immigrant parents' approach to choice. For them, choice was not just a way of defining and asserting their individuality, but a way to create community and harmony by deferring to the choices of people whom they trusted and respected. If they had a concept of being true to one's self, then that self, most likely, [was] composed, not of an individual, but of a collective. Success was just as much about pleasing key figures as it was about satisfying one's own preferences. Or, you could say that the individual's preferences were shaped by the preferences of specific others.
Derfor er formodningen om at vi klarer os bedst når individet selv vælger kun er sandt når det selv er tydeligt delt fra andre. Når, i modsætning, to eller flere individer ser deres valg og deres resultat som værende nøje sammenhængende, så kan de forstærke hinandens succes ved at vende valget til en kollektiv handling. At insistere at de vælger uafhængigt kan faktisk gå ud over både deres præstation og deres forhold. Men alligevel er det præcis det det amerikanske paradigme kræver. Det efterlader meget lidt plads til indbyrdes afhængighed eller en anerkendelse af individuel fejlbarlighed. Det kræver at alle behandler valg som privat og handling der definerer selvet. Mennesker der er vokset op i sådan et paradigme kan måske finde det motiverende, men det er en fejl at antage at alle trives under presset af at vælge selv.
The assumption then that we do best when the individual self chooses only holds when that self is clearly divided from others. When, in contrast, two or more individuals see their choices and their outcomes as intimately connected, then they may amplify one another's success by turning choosing into a collective act. To insist that they choose independently might actually compromise both their performance and their relationships. Yet that is exactly what the American paradigm demands. It leaves little room for interdependence or an acknowledgment of individual fallibility. It requires that everyone treat choice as a private and self-defining act. People that have grown up in such a paradigm might find it motivating, but it is a mistake to assume that everyone thrives under the pressure of choosing alone.
Den anden formodning der informerer om amerikanernes syn på valg ser cirka sådan her ud. Jo flere valg man har, jo større er sandsynligheden for at man træffer det bedste valg. Så kom med det, Walmart, med 100.000 forskellige produkter, og Amazon, med 27 millioner bøger og Match.com med -- hvad er det? -- 15 millioner date muligheder nu. Man vil helt sikkert finde det perfekte match. Lad os teste formodningen ved at tage over til Østeuropa. Her, interviewede jeg mennesker der var indbyggere fra tidligere kommunistiske lande, der alle havde stået overfor udfordringen af at gå over til et mere demokratisk og kapitalistisk samfund. En af de mest interessante afsløringer kom ikke fra et svar på et spørgsmål, men fra en simpel gestus af gæstfrihed. Da deltagerne ankom til deres interview, tilbød jeg dem en Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite -- syv, for at være præcis.
The second assumption which informs the American view of choice goes something like this. The more choices you have, the more likely you are to make the best choice. So bring it on, Walmart, with 100,000 different products, and Amazon, with 27 million books and Match.com with -- what is it? -- 15 million date possibilities now. You will surely find the perfect match. Let's test this assumption by heading over to Eastern Europe. Here, I interviewed people who were residents of formerly communist countries, who had all faced the challenge of transitioning to a more democratic and capitalistic society. One of the most interesting revelations came not from an answer to a question, but from a simple gesture of hospitality. When the participants arrived for their interview, I offered them a set of drinks: Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite -- seven, to be exact.
I løbet af det første møde, der blev afholdt i Rusland, kom en af deltagerne med en kommentar der virkelig overraskede mig. "Åh, jamen det betyder ikke noget. Det er alt sammen sodavand. Det er kun en valgmulighed." (Mumlen) Jeg blev så ramt af denne kommentar at fra det tidspunkt, begyndte jeg at tilbyde alle deltagerne de syv sodavand, og jeg spurgte dem, "Hvor mange valg er der her?" Igen og igen, opfattede de de syv forskellige sodavand, ikke som syv valg, men som et valg: sodavand eller ikke sodavand. Da jeg satte juice og vand ud ud over disse syv sodavand, opfattede de det nu som kun tre valg -- juice, vand og sodavand. Sammenlign dette med den stokkonservative loyalitet af mange amerikanere, ikke kun til en bestemt smagsvariant i sodavand, men til et bestemt brand. I ved, forskning viser gang på gang at vi faktisk ikke kan kende forskel på Coke og Pepsi. Selvfølgelig, ved I og jeg at Coke er det bedre valg.
During the very first session, which was run in Russia, one of the participants made a comment that really caught me off guard. "Oh, but it doesn't matter. It's all just soda. That's just one choice." (Murmuring) I was so struck by this comment that from then on, I started to offer all the participants those seven sodas, and I asked them, "How many choices are these?" Again and again, they perceived these seven different sodas, not as seven choices, but as one choice: soda or no soda. When I put out juice and water in addition to these seven sodas, now they perceived it as only three choices -- juice, water and soda. Compare this to the die-hard devotion of many Americans, not just to a particular flavor of soda, but to a particular brand. You know, research shows repeatedly that we can't actually tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi. Of course, you and I know that Coke is the better choice.
(Latter)
(Laughter)
For moderne amerikanere der er udsatte for flere valg og flere reklamer der er associerede med valg end nogen andre i verden, handler valg lige så meget om hvem de er som det handler om hvad produktet er. Kombiner dette med formodningen om at flere valg altid er bedre, og man har en gruppe mennesker for hvem hver lille forskel er af betydning så hvert valg betyder noget. Men for østeuropæere, var den pludselige tilgængelighed af alle disse forbrugsgoder på markedspladsen en oversvømmelse. De blev oversvømmede med valg inden de kunne protestere over at de ikke viste hvordan man svømmer. Da de blev spurgte, "Hvilke ord og billeder associerer du med valg?" Grzegorz fra Warszawa sagde, "Åh, for mig er det frygt. Der er nogle dilemmaer man ser. Jeg er vant til ingen valg." Bohdan fra Kiev sagde, som svar på hvad han følte om den nye forbrugermarkedsplads, "Det er for meget. Vi har ikke brug for alt der er der." En sociolog fra Warsaw Survey Agency forklarede, "Den ældre generation hoppede fra ingenting til valg overalt omkring dem. De blev aldrig givet en chance for at lære hvordan de skulle reagere." Og Tomasz, en ung polsk mand sagde, "Jeg har ikke brug for tyve forskellige slags tyggegummi, jeg vil ikke sige at jeg vil være fri for valg, men mange af valgene er temmelig kunstige."
For modern Americans who are exposed to more options and more ads associated with options than anyone else in the world, choice is just as much about who they are as it is about what the product is. Combine this with the assumption that more choices are always better, and you have a group of people for whom every little difference matters and so every choice matters. But for Eastern Europeans, the sudden availability of all these consumer products on the marketplace was a deluge. They were flooded with choice before they could protest that they didn't know how to swim. When asked, "What words and images do you associate with choice?" Grzegorz from Warsaw said, "Ah, for me it is fear. There are some dilemmas you see. I am used to no choice." Bohdan from Kiev said, in response to how he felt about the new consumer marketplace, "It is too much. We do not need everything that is there." A sociologist from the Warsaw Survey Agency explained, "The older generation jumped from nothing to choice all around them. They were never given a chance to learn how to react." And Tomasz, a young Polish man said, "I don't need twenty kinds of chewing gum. I don't mean to say that I want no choice, but many of these choices are quite artificial."
I virkeligheden, er mange af valgene mellem ting der ikke er så forskellige. Betydningen af valg afhænger af vores evne til at opfatte forskelle mellem valgmulighederne. Amerikanerne træner hele deres liv på at spille "få øje på forskellen." De træner dette fra så tidlig en alder at de er kommet til at tro på at alle må være blevet født med denne evne. Faktisk, selvom alle mennesker deler et basalt behov og begær for valg, vi ser ikke alle valg de samme steder eller i samme grad. Når nogen ikke kan se hvordan et valg er forskelligt fra et andet, eller når der er for mange valg at sammenligne og kontrastere, valgprocessen kan være forvirrende og frustrerende. I stedet for at træffe bedre valg, bliver vi overvældede af valg, nogen gange endda bange for det. Valg tilbyder ikke længere muligheder, men pålægger begrænsninger. Det er ikke en markør for frigørelse, men af kvælning af betydningsløse bagateller. Med andre ord, valg kan udvikle sig til det komplet modsatte af alt det repræsenterer i Amerika når det bliver påtvunget dem der er utilstrækkeligt forberedt på det. Men det er ikke kun andre mennesker andre steder der føler presset af evigt tiltagende valg. Amerikanere opdager selv at ubegrænsede valg lader til at være mere attraktive i teorien end i praksis.
In reality, many choices are between things that are not that much different. The value of choice depends on our ability to perceive differences between the options. Americans train their whole lives to play "spot the difference." They practice this from such an early age that they've come to believe that everyone must be born with this ability. In fact, though all humans share a basic need and desire for choice, we don't all see choice in the same places or to the same extent. When someone can't see how one choice is unlike another, or when there are too many choices to compare and contrast, the process of choosing can be confusing and frustrating. Instead of making better choices, we become overwhelmed by choice, sometimes even afraid of it. Choice no longer offers opportunities, but imposes constraints. It's not a marker of liberation, but of suffocation by meaningless minutiae. In other words, choice can develop into the very opposite of everything it represents in America when it is thrust upon those who are insufficiently prepared for it. But it is not only other people in other places that are feeling the pressure of ever-increasing choice. Americans themselves are discovering that unlimited choice seems more attractive in theory than in practice.
Vi har alle fysiske, mentale og emotionelle (Latter) begrænsninger der gør det umuligt for os at behandle hvert eneste valg vi træffer, selv i købmandsforretningen, for slet ikke at tale om i løbet af hele vores liv. Et antal af mine studier har vist at når man giver mennesker 10 eller flere muligheder når de tager et valg, træffer de dårligere beslutninger, hvad enten det er sundhedspleje, investeringer, andre kritiske områder. Alligevel, mange af os tror på at vi alle bør træffe vores egne valg og udsøge endnu flere.
We all have physical, mental and emotional (Laughter) limitations that make it impossible for us to process every single choice we encounter, even in the grocery store, let alone over the course of our entire lives. A number of my studies have shown that when you give people 10 or more options when they're making a choice, they make poorer decisions, whether it be health care, investment, other critical areas. Yet still, many of us believe that we should make all our own choices and seek out even more of them.
Dette bringer mig til den tredje, og mest problematiske, formodning: "Man skal aldrig sige nej til valg." For at undersøge dette, lad os tage tilbage USA og så hoppe over dammen til Frankrig. Lige uden for Chicago, var et ungt par, Susan og Daniel Mitchell, ved at få deres første barn. De havde allerede valgt et navn til hende, Barbara, efter hendes bedstemor. En nat, da Susan var gravid i syvende måned, begyndte hun at opleve veer og blev kørt på skadestuen i en fart. Babyen blev født ved kejsersnit, men Barbara led af cerebral anoksi, tab af ilt til hjernen. Ude af stand til at trække vejret selv, blev hun sat på en respirator. To dage senere, gav lægerne Mitchellerne er valg: De kunne enten tage Barbara af respiratoren, hvilket ville betyde at hun ville dø indenfor et par timer, eller de kunne holde hende i respiratoren, hvilket ville betyde at hun muligvis stadig ville dø indenfor et par dage. Hvis hun overlevede, ville hun forblive i en permanent vegetativ tilstand, aldrig blive i stand til at gå, tale eller interagere med andre. Hvad gør de? Hvad ville hvilke som helst forældre gøre?
This brings me to the third, and perhaps most problematic, assumption: "You must never say no to choice." To examine this, let's go back to the U.S. and then hop across the pond to France. Right outside Chicago, a young couple, Susan and Daniel Mitchell, were about to have their first baby. They'd already picked out a name for her, Barbara, after her grandmother. One night, when Susan was seven months pregnant, she started to experience contractions and was rushed to the emergency room. The baby was delivered through a C-section, but Barbara suffered cerebral anoxia, a loss of oxygen to the brain. Unable to breathe on her own, she was put on a ventilator. Two days later, the doctors gave the Mitchells a choice: They could either remove Barbara off the life support, in which case she would die within a matter of hours, or they could keep her on life support, in which case she might still die within a matter of days. If she survived, she would remain in a permanent vegetative state, never able to walk, talk or interact with others. What do they do? What do any parent do?
I et studie jeg foretog med Simon Botti og Kristina Orfali, amerikanske og franske forældre der blev interviewet. De havde alle måtte gennemgå den samme tragedie. I alle tilfælde, blev respiratoren fjernet, og spædbørnene var døde. Men der var en stor forskel. I Frankrig, havde lægerne besluttet om og hvornår respiratoren ville blive fjernet, mens i USA, lå den sidste beslutning hos forældrene. Vi undrede os over: om dette har en effekt på hvordan forældrene håndterer tabet af deres kære? Vi fandt ud af at det gjorde det. Selv op til et år senere, var det mere sandsynligt at amerikanske forældre ville udtrykke negative følelser, sammenlignet med deres franske modstykker. Der var større sandsynlighed for at de franske forældre ville sige ting som, "Noah var her i så kort tid, men han lærte os så meget. Han gav os et nyt perspektiv på livet."
In a study I conducted with Simona Botti and Kristina Orfali, American and French parents were interviewed. They had all suffered the same tragedy. In all cases, the life support was removed, and the infants had died. But there was a big difference. In France, the doctors decided whether and when the life support would be removed, while in the United States, the final decision rested with the parents. We wondered: does this have an effect on how the parents cope with the loss of their loved one? We found that it did. Even up to a year later, American parents were more likely to express negative emotions, as compared to their French counterparts. French parents were more likely to say things like, "Noah was here for so little time, but he taught us so much. He gave us a new perspective on life."
Der var større sandsynlighed for at amerikanske forældre ville sige ting som, "Hvad nu hvis? Hvad nu hvis?" En anden forælder brokkede sig, "Jeg har det som om de med vilje torturerede mig. Hvordan fik de mig til at gøre det?" Og en anden forælder sagde, "Jeg har det som om jeg har spillet en rolle i en henrettelse." Men da de amerikanske forældre blev spurgt om de hellere ville have haft at lægerne havde taget beslutningen, sagde de alle, "Nej." De kunne ikke forestille sig at overgive det valg til en anden, selvom at det at have taget beslutningen fik dem til at føle sig fanget, skyldige, vrede. I et antal tilfælde var de endda klinisk deprimerede. Disse forældre kunne ikke overveje at opgive deres valg, fordi at gøre det ville have gået imod alt de var blevet lært og alt de havde lært at tro på om den magt og formål med valg.
American parents were more likely to say things like, "What if? What if?" Another parent complained, "I feel as if they purposefully tortured me. How did they get me to do that?" And another parent said, "I feel as if I've played a role in an execution." But when the American parents were asked if they would rather have had the doctors make the decision, they all said, "No." They could not imagine turning that choice over to another, even though having made that choice made them feel trapped, guilty, angry. In a number of cases they were even clinically depressed. These parents could not contemplate giving up the choice, because to do so would have gone contrary to everything they had been taught and everything they had come to believe about the power and purpose of choice.
I hendes essay, "The White Album," skriver Joan Didion, "Vi fortæller fortællinger til os selv for at leve. Vi tolker det vi ser, udvælger de mest brugbare af en række valg. Vi lever udelukkende af påtvingelsen af en narrativ linje på uforenelige billeder, ved den ide som vi har lært at fryse de skiftende koglerier, som er vores virkelige oplevelse." Fortællingen amerikanere fortæller, fortællingen som amerikanerne er afhængige af, fortællingen om ubegrænsede valg. Denne fortælling lover så meget: frihed, lykke, succes. Det lægger verden for ens fødder og siger, "Du kan have hvad som helst, alt." Det er en fantastisk fortælling, og det er forståeligt hvorfor de vil være tøvende med at revidere det. Men når man kigger nærmere, begynder man at se hullerne, og man begynder at se at fortællingen kan fortælles på mange andre måder.
In her essay, "The White Album," Joan Didion writes, "We tell ourselves stories in order to live. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the idea with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria, which is our actual experience." The story Americans tell, the story upon which the American dream depends, is the story of limitless choice. This narrative promises so much: freedom, happiness, success. It lays the world at your feet and says, "You can have anything, everything." It's a great story, and it's understandable why they would be reluctant to revise it. But when you take a close look, you start to see the holes, and you start to see that the story can be told in many other ways.
Amerikanere har så ofte prøvet at sprede deres ideer om valg, og troet at de vil blive, eller bør blive, hilst velkommen med åbne hjerter og sind. Men historiebøgerne og de daglige nyheder fortæller os at det ikke altid fungerer på den måde. Kogleriet, den faktiske oplevelse som vi prøver at forstå og organiserer gennem fortællinger, varierer fra sted til sted. Ingen enkeltstående fortælling tjener alles behov alle steder. Derudover, kunne amerikanere selv drage fordel af at inddrage nye perspektiver i deres egen fortælling, som har motiveret deres valg i så lang tid.
Americans have so often tried to disseminate their ideas of choice, believing that they will be, or ought to be, welcomed with open hearts and minds. But the history books and the daily news tell us it doesn't always work out that way. The phantasmagoria, the actual experience that we try to understand and organize through narrative, varies from place to place. No single narrative serves the needs of everyone everywhere. Moreover, Americans themselves could benefit from incorporating new perspectives into their own narrative, which has been driving their choices for so long.
Robert Frost sagde en gang, at "Det er poesi der går tabt i oversættelsen." Dette foreslår at lige meget hvad der er smukt og bevægende, lige meget hvad der giver os nye måder at se på, kan ikke kommunikeres til dem der taler forskellige sprog. Men Joseph Brodsky sagde at, "Det er poesi der vindes i oversættelsen," hvilket foreslår at oversættelse kan være en kreativ, transformerende handling. Når det kommer til valg, har vi væsentlig mere at vinde end at tabe ved at engagere os i de mange oversættelser af fortællingen. I stedet for at erstatte en fortælling med en anden, kan vi lære af og slå os løs i de mange versioner der eksisterer og dem der stadig skal skrives. Uanset hvor vi kommer fra og hvad ens fortælling er, har vi alle et ansvar for at åbne os selv for et bredere opbud af hvad valg kan gøre, og hvad det kan repræsentere. Og dette leder ikke til en paralyserende moralsk relativisme. Derimod lærer det os hvornår og hvordan vi skal handle. Det bringer os meget tættere på at forstå det fulde potentiale af valg, til at inspirere håbet og opnå friheden som valg lover men ikke altid leverer. Hvis vi lærer at tale med hinanden, omend gennem oversættelse, så kan vi begynde at se valg i al dens besynderlighed, kompleksitet og betagende dejlighed.
Robert Frost once said that, "It is poetry that is lost in translation." This suggests that whatever is beautiful and moving, whatever gives us a new way to see, cannot be communicated to those who speak a different language. But Joseph Brodsky said that, "It is poetry that is gained in translation," suggesting that translation can be a creative, transformative act. When it comes to choice, we have far more to gain than to lose by engaging in the many translations of the narratives. Instead of replacing one story with another, we can learn from and revel in the many versions that exist and the many that have yet to be written. No matter where we're from and what your narrative is, we all have a responsibility to open ourselves up to a wider array of what choice can do, and what it can represent. And this does not lead to a paralyzing moral relativism. Rather, it teaches us when and how to act. It brings us that much closer to realizing the full potential of choice, to inspiring the hope and achieving the freedom that choice promises but doesn't always deliver. If we learn to speak to one another, albeit through translation, then we can begin to see choice in all its strangeness, complexity and compelling beauty.
Tak.
Thank you.
(Bifald)
(Applause)
Bruno Giussani: Tak. Sheena, der er en detalje om din biografi som vi ikke har skrevet i programmet. Men nu er det klart for alle i dette lokale. Du er blind. Og jeg formoder at et af spørgsmålene som alle tænker på: Hvordan påvirker det dit studie om valg fordi det er en aktivitet der for de fleste mennesker er associeret med visuelle input som æstetik og farve og så videre?
Bruno Giussani: Thank you. Sheena, there is a detail about your biography that we have not written in the program book. But by now it's evident to everyone in this room. You're blind. And I guess one of the questions on everybody's mind is: How does that influence your study of choosing because that's an activity that for most people is associated with visual inputs like aesthetics and color and so on?
Sheena Lyengar: Jamen, det er sjovt at du spørger om det fordi en af tingene der er interessant om at være blind er at man faktisk får et andet synspunkt når man observerer måden som seende mennesker træffer valg. Og som du lige nævnte, er der mange valg derude der er meget visuelle i dag. Ja, jeg -- som man kan forestille sig -- bliver ret frustreret over valg som hvilken neglelak jeg skal tage på fordi jeg skal stole på hvad andre mennesker foreslår. Og jeg kan ikke vælge. Så engang var jeg i en skønhedssalon, og jeg prøvede at vælge mellem to meget lyse nuancer pink. Og en hed "Ballet Slippers." Og den anden hed "Adorable." (Latter) Så jeg spurgte de to damer, og den ene dame fortalte mig, "Jamen, du skal helt sikkert bruge 'Ballet Slippers.'" "Jamen, hvordan ser den ud?" "Jamen, det er en meget elegant pink nuance." "Okay, fedt." Den anden dame fortæller mig at jeg skal bruge "Adorable." "Hvordan ser den ud?" "Det er en glamorøs pink nuance." Så jeg spurgte dem, "Jamen, hvordan kan jeg kende dem fra hinanden? Hvad er forskellen på dem?" Og de sagde, "Jamen, den ene er elegant, den anden er glamorøs." Okay, det fik vi. Den eneste anden ting de var enige om: jamen, hvis jeg kunne se dem, ville jeg kunne skelne dem tydeligt fra hinanden.
Sheena Iyengar: Well, it's funny that you should ask that because one of the things that's interesting about being blind is you actually get a different vantage point when you observe the way sighted people make choices. And as you just mentioned, there's lots of choices out there that are very visual these days. Yeah, I -- as you would expect -- get pretty frustrated by choices like what nail polish to put on because I have to rely on what other people suggest. And I can't decide. And so one time I was in a beauty salon, and I was trying to decide between two very light shades of pink. And one was called "Ballet Slippers." And the other one was called "Adorable." (Laughter) And so I asked these two ladies, and the one lady told me, "Well, you should definitely wear 'Ballet Slippers.'" "Well, what does it look like?" "Well, it's a very elegant shade of pink." "Okay, great." The other lady tells me to wear "Adorable." "What does it look like?" "It's a glamorous shade of pink." And so I asked them, "Well, how do I tell them apart? What's different about them?" And they said, "Well, one is elegant, the other one's glamorous." Okay, we got that. And the only thing they had consensus on: well, if I could see them, I would clearly be able to tell them apart.
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Og det jeg undrede mig over var om de var påvirkede af navnet eller indholdet af farven, så jeg besluttede mig for at udføre et lille eksperiment. Så jeg tog disse to flasker neglelak med til laboratoriet, og jeg tog etiketten af. Og jeg bragte kvinder ind i laboratoriet, og jeg spurgte dem, "Hvilken ville du vælge?" 50 procent af kvinderne gik ud fra at jeg tog dem ved næsen, og havde puttet den samme farve neglelak i begge flasker. (Latter) (Bifald) Og på det tidspunkt begynder man at undre sig over hvem der virkelig er taget ved næsen. Nuvel, af de kvinder der kunne kender forskel på dem, når etiketten var taget af, valgte de "Adorable," og når etiketten sad på, valgte de "Ballet Slippers." Så vidt jeg ved, vil en rose med et andet navn sandsynligvis se anderledes ud og måske endda lugte anderledes.
And what I wondered was whether they were being affected by the name or the content of the color, so I decided to do a little experiment. So I brought these two bottles of nail polish into the laboratory, and I stripped the labels off. And I brought women into the laboratory, and I asked them, "Which one would you pick?" 50 percent of the women accused me of playing a trick, of putting the same color nail polish in both those bottles. (Laughter) (Applause) At which point you start to wonder who the trick's really played on. Now, of the women that could tell them apart, when the labels were off, they picked "Adorable," and when the labels were on, they picked "Ballet Slippers." So as far as I can tell, a rose by any other name probably does look different and maybe even smells different.
BG: Tak. Sheena Lyengar. Tak Sheena.
BG: Thank you. Sheena Iyengar. Thank you Sheena.
(Bifald)
(Applause)