One of the simplest decision-making frameworks is when the final decision depends on a set of previous outcomes. This is often illustrated effectively using a decision tree. Here’s a straightforward example for choosing a holiday destination:
Decision 1 could be based on the budget. If the budget is less than $100, we stay home. If it’s between $100 and $10,000, we choose a local destination. If it’s over $10,000, an international holiday may be an option. This shows how the first level of decision-making influences the next.
Decision 2 could then be the type of destination, with options based on whether I prefer a cultural or beach holiday. Choosing a beach holiday, for instance, would rule out all cultural tour options, and so on.
Since you’re all quite sharp, I won’t elaborate further, except to emphasize that in this model, each previous decision directly influences the next. I consider this an easy decision-making framework because the conditions are mutually exclusive and simple to distinguish.
Lately, I’ve been intrigued by the fact that many decisions I need to make don’t fit neatly into a mutually exclusive decision-making framework. For example, what if I want to go on a local holiday but still plan to spend more than $10,000? This scenario isn’t captured well by my decision tree, as it doesn’t allow for both conditions to be true simultaneously. In this case, I can’t simply eliminate one option; both branches of the decision tree remain valid.
Moving beyond decision-making, I’m noticing a similar duality in how I evaluate and interpret the world around me. For instance, I don’t particularly like Elon Musk—his personality and values often clash with mine. Yet, I can’t deny that he’s a brilliant entrepreneur and a ruthless businessman from whom I could learn a lot. Elon can be both difficult to appreciate on a personal level and an inspiring business leader at the same time.
Let’s take this a step further. Donald Trump, to me, is a deeply flawed individual whom I respect very little. However, his radical and protectionist economic policies might, in the short term, serve America better than the moderate socialist policies of Kamala Harris and the Democratic Party. Trump can be both a person I find objectionable and someone with economically attractive policies simultaneously.
Your company can perform poorly on diversity and inclusion metrics and still be a great place to work. Your friend can care deeply about you and feel envious of your progress at the same time. Forgive me for this last example, as I’m not entirely sure I believe it myself, but your local politician might be a greedy figure aiming to extract as much as possible from the public funds and genuinely care about the wellbeing of their community.
In a work context, I’ve had the privilege of drafting several strategic roadmaps over the past few weeks. One of the tasks required me to gather feedback on focus areas from various stakeholders and apply some form of prioritization. It quickly became clear that I couldn’t prioritize by simply eliminating options. Each stakeholder expected their priorities to be reflected in the overall strategy, which resulted in a roadmap that both emphasized what was essential and represented each stakeholder’s needs. No department’s priorities outweighed or negated another’s; rather, these priorities coexisted and were valid simultaneously.
Once I embraced this duality and multiplicity of perspectives, it relieved the pressure to always find a perfect solution. I also stopped dismissing others’ input too quickly based on a single data point. A personal example of this involved one of my children, who was struggling with a school subject. Initially, I refused to arrange extra tuition, convinced that the issue was purely a matter of effort on my child’s part. However, by applying this dual-thinking approach, I quickly realized that both could be true—it was possible that my child was putting in sufficient effort and would still benefit from additional tuition.
I leave you with this thought—a simple one, though not original. Two facts can be correct at the same time. Information doesn’t necessarily negate other information, nor does it always complement it. Yet, two seemingly disparate facts can both be true—and be true simultaneously!
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