March 1956 — Vol. 37, No. 3 —
Analysing a Problem
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When we analyse a problem, so as
to see what its parts are, we are on the way to solving it.
When we analyse a trouble or worry, so as to reach the centre
of it, we are on the way to doing something about it. These
are constructive and effective ways of dealing with problems
and worries.
There are some business men and some authors who prefer
people to think that they solve problems and write books by
a sort of frenzy or intuition. The truth is that behind every
sound creative act, whether in business or in art or in everyday
living, there is a history of crudities of thought, of dim
and distantly seen ideas, of fully—matured fancies discarded
in despair because they were found to be unmanageable, of
acceptance, rejection, erasure and correction.
These cannot be wholly avoided in constructive, original
work, but this essay will attempt to show a way by which the
load of them may be lightened. The secret of it lies in a
telescopic looking ahead. No one of us wishes to be in the
class of the African tribe told about by the fable—making
Baron Munchausen. It is made up of people who can see just
three and a half inches beyond the extremity of their noses.
But that is what people are like who find themselves rushing
upon problems unprepared. They don't know where to hit the
problems, or grasp them, or avoid them. They don't know how
far they can hope to go in solving problems.
Vital personalities seek to foresee the future so far as
is humanly possible, and to take the necessary steps to bring
about fulfilment of their aims. They define their problems,
amass and consider the pertinent facts, and formulate solutions.
Dull personalities, on the other hand, drift up to problems.
An amoeba, the lowest form of animal life, solves problems
by butting up against them and flowing around and past them;
but who wants to be an amoeba?
Every major modern industry puts forth great efforts to
improve products and processes, but this essay is concerned
with non—technical problems. The chemist has the data
of the ages to work with; he adds this and that, in carefully
measured quantities, and he knows, quite closely, what may
be expected to result. The engineer solving a problem must
calculate stresses and apply intricate but established knowledge.
But we, trying to solve the problems of everyday life, must
weigh many intangibles and calculate many imponderables. Before
we start to take them into account we should, for self—protection,
register all the qualities and quantities of a factual sort
we can learn about.
Why analyse?
Analysis means picking data to pieces. Charles F. Kettering
explains it this way: "The process of research is to pull
the problem apart into its different elements, a great many
of which you already know about. When you get it pulled apart,
you can work on the things you don't know about."
The result of analysis may be to upset our complacency,
and that is all to the good because it pushes us into the
position where we recognize a conflict, where we are compelled
to answer a question, where we uncover an unmet need. Thus
we become thinkers: people who see where others do not.
Business men, like others of the human race, occasionally
feel an urge to play along, to ignore safety measures, to
act as the spirit of the moment bids them. Many business deals
that go sour have bases like those of the common detective
story wherein some victim follows his impulse to "play it
alone" and is rescued - if, indeed, he is rescued - by common—sense
professionals on the last page. It is infinitely better for
our manhood that we should arrive at a decision about what
to do after a close and critical analysis of the problem,
aided by all the resources within ourselves and from others'
knowledge that we can command.
It may be fitting to compare the sort of analysis we are
writing about to the "dead reckoning" of the navigator and
the airman. Originally called "deduced reckoning", then "ded.
reckoning", this was once a good part of the navigator's art
and it is still used on ships and air liners. It is simply
the process of keeping track of how fast you are going, in
what direction, and of when you change to other speeds or
directions. It means, as described by Guy Murchie in Song
of the Sky, plotting your hourly and daily positions on
your chart as you go, and being able to deduce the net result
of your various tackings into a definite position for any
moment of time.
A destination is a fine thing to have. If a man does not
know to what port he is steering, no wind is favourable to
him. And if he doesn't know where he is now, he cannot very
well set a course. How hard he rows, or how good his engine
is: these do not count in his favour unless he has good definition
of his objective. Hard work is often robbed of its reward
by poor planning.
Edgar Allan Poe started his poem The Raven at the
climax. He first established in his mind the concluding query,
the query in reply to which "Nevermore" should be a last answer.
Then, by analysis, he built up an interesting introduction,
a conceivable reason for the presence of the raven which spoke
only the one word, and a complete setting for one of the most
poignant poems ever written.
What is the problem?
When we ask "What is the problem?" that is a good question.
It starts us at the end and we work backward to a solution.
It is a great asset to pose problems precisely and clearly.
There is a solution to every problem, but reaching it may
not be simple. We must change vague difficulties into specific
concrete form, and we must break down difficult problems into
parts that can be tackled individually.
Einstein remarked in The Evolution of Physics: "the
formulation of a problem is often more essential than its
solution, which may be merely a matter of mathematical or
experimental skill."
Suppose your problem is a financial one. What is it specifically?
Do you really have a problem, or are you just worrying on
general principle about "what may happen..."? Do you need
to expand your business or your job so as to bring in more
income, or retrench so as to conserve what you have?
If your situation seems serious, you will gain comfort and
peace of mind by stripping it down to essentials and wiping
out associated problems, fears and wishes, thus reaching the
point where you have a pertinent question free of the apparently
hopeless welter that is getting you down. When you stop your
mind from dodging issues and from wandering off on detours
of wishes and fears, the problem may solve itself.
Methods of analysis
One may take his choice of several plans of analysis, but
they all boil down to a simple outline: search for the point
of the problem, sort out the information about it into rational
and easy—to—understand divisions, scrutinize the
evidence for this and that point you have uncovered, and settle
the matter. If you are analysing a difficulty, you need to
identify it clearly, ascertain the cause and find the remedy.
One writer, Alex Osborn, gives this outline of problem—solving:
orientation, to pick out and point up the problem; preparation,
by gathering material relevant to the problem; analysis, to
break down the material into manageable form; hypothesis,
in which we pile up optional courses we may take; incubation
or meditation, to invite illumination; synthesis, in which
we put the pieces together; and verification, in which we
judge the resultant plans.
As a starting place you may prepare a list of subject headings
and key words to be checked, consulted, modified and extended
during the search.
This sort of analysis might start with the broad statement:
"There's something wrong with my business," and divide this
into two statements that cover all possible causes: (1) the
trouble is inside the business or (2) it is outside. Each
of these is broken down in turn, until you exhaust all possible
causes and list the remedies to be applied. You narrow down
the search by successive division and subdivision.
Notice the difference between this intelligent procedure
and the ineffectual floundering of the person who leaps from
point to point without linking them, skipping other points
that may have a definite bearing upon the problem. Under the
rational system no factor that can be thought of is omitted;
every one is assured of careful scrutiny on its merits; connections
between points are seen; the weight of this or that factor
relative to others becomes manifest.
Consider the further break—down that might be made
if our analysis of business trouble led us to suspect that
our advertising might be partly to blame. We might ask: Is
colour advertising necessary if we are to meet competition?
Is it nice to have but too costly? What would be its effect
on prospective customers? Then, if we should decide that colour
illustration is necessary, we would go on to ask." How much
should we use? In what proportion? In what pattern of arrangement
with the rest of our advertising campaign?
Break down the problem
The first step in analysis, then, is to break down the problem
by splitting it into its components.
We must, said Massachusetts Institute of Technology's great
Professor Erwin Schell, distinguish among problems, objectives
and rewards. "A young man may state his problem to be that
of increasing his remuneration. Yet this is really a reward
for attaining the true objective of increasing his value.
The young man's problems relate to the seizing of opportunities
or the overcoming of difficulties surrounding his objective."
The easiest way to break down a problem is to ask questions.
Socrates, the Greek philosopher who gave rise to the "Socratic
method", a special kind of questioning, remarked "Life without
inquiry is no life for man." The man who does not habitually
wonder about things is nothing more than a pair of spectacles
behind which there is no seeing eye. It is imperative that
men and women seeking the good in life should keep alive the
faculty of asking questions.
Before making even simple decisions, it is well to ask questions.
For example, if you are asked to head up a campaign to raise
money for some charitable purpose, you might make your analysis
along these lines: What is the purpose of this campaign? What
is my motive for accepting the job? To whom shall we appeal?
Whom can I count on for help? What organization do I need?
There might be twenty or fifty headings and subheadings, clarifying
your objective, confirming your decision, revealing what data
is to be sought, and helping you to get on faster with the
creative thinking and organizing that such a campaign requires.
The man facing a business problem will wish to go further:
he will ask "else" questions, like "what—else, where—else,
when—else, how—else, who—else, and why—else".
This can be the most revealing part of the analytic process.
If you ask enough questions, covering a wide enough area,
you will eventually ask one that leads to the solution of
even the most obscure problem.
We should try to make our questions significant. If we ask
what would be the effect of a spark falling in a room full
of gunpowder that is quite different from asking the effect
of a spark falling amid the satellites of the planet Jupiter,
says A. B. Johnson in The Language of Wisdom and Folly.
The first is significant; the second would solve no problem
and work no change.
About definition
What does "significant" mean in everyday life? The dictionary
defines it as "having a meaning; not negligible."
Definitions are useful starting points, if that is all we
use them for, and if we keep them significant and understandable.
They are to explain something to somebody. We don't need to
define everything, but only things that may not be clear.
A definition must not be circular, like the description
of a demon as one having demoniacal powers, which brings you
right back to "one having demoniacal powers is a demon." Analysis,
we must remember, is an effort to clear away the dead—wood
and make the important thing clear.
Summing up
Having analysed our problem, we must arrive at a judgment
about it. This might be called evaluation.
We have now, in the last column of our analysis, isolated
all the facts needed to reach a solution. We must weigh them
carefully, being sure that what we have found out is what
we have been looking for. Is it satisfactory, and not merely
"good enough"? Guard against jumping to the conclusion that
because the last—column facts are not what you expected
or wanted them to be they must be wrong.
Here is the time for deliberation, a rehearsal in your mind
of possible competing lines of action. Shakespeare called
this incubation "the spell in which imagination bodies forth
the forms of things unknown."
It is not a time to seek solace for mistakes the analysis
has uncovered, nor is it an occasion to concoct escape routes
from them. What we are seeking is a truth upon which to build
the future. We wish to resolve existing entanglements, recover
harmony, and redirect our energies and thought toward solution
of our problem. We want a judgment on the facts we have uncovered,
and to use that judgment as a base for action.
Every completed analysis yields material for at least one
hypothesis. We should go the limit in thinking of or devising
many possible ways of acting.
Hypotheses are not necessarily learned formulae. They may
be only choices of action based on the possibilities revealed
by your analysis. Here is your problem: here is your analysis:
what is to be done about it?
Just to take a few of the many forms of action, your hypothesis
may lead you to adapt yourself to a new situation,
or your goods to a changing market, or your production
schedule to new delivery demands; it may prompt you to substitute
a new worker for one who is unsatisfactory, or a new
machine to speed lagging production, or a cheaper ingredient
for the too—expensive one now used, or a novel approach
to the hard—to—get potential customer; it may
show how you can re—arrange your way of living
so as to make time for what you want to do, or your staff
so as to distribute the load better, or your plant, store,
home or workshop so as to increase efficiency and comfort.
Hypotheses covering these three possible ways of action
- adaptation, substitution, and re—arrangement will
solve many problems.
Two sorts of information
Analysis demands two sorts of information: what we already
have from experience and past study and what we can obtain
now. Solutions come by putting together bits of what we know
and pieces of things we learn.
We should not be small in our fishing for knowledge. Mark
Twain wrote in Life on the Mississippi: "I use the
meridians of longitude and the parallels of latitude for a
seine, and drag the Atlantic Ocean for whales. I scratch my
head with the lightning and purr myself to sleep with the
thunder."
Most of our problem—solving truth is arrived at by
successive processes of correcting error. The educated man
keeps his mind open on every question until the evidence is
in. He knows that on the shady side of a picture there are
sometimes truths quite as interesting and necessary as those
on the bright side. As Schopenhauer put it: "It is only when
a man looks at his knowledge from all sides, and combines
the things he knows by comparing truth with truth, that be
obtains a complete hold over it and gets it into his power."
The fuel behind our reasoning is factual information. Facts
are the quick glimpses we get of a ceaseless transformation,
like the separate frames of a moving picture.
We need a certain sort of integrity in gathering facts to
analyse and solve our problems. Darwin had it; when he came
upon data unfavourable to his theory he hastily made a note
of them. He knew that things disagreeing with our preconceived
ideas or contrary to our wishes have a way of slipping out
of our memory rather readily.
Some facts come from records of the past, some from our
observation, and some from the discoveries made by other persons.
Records are important, because things that affect business
and social life don't happen only at this time, at one minute
of one day; they happen yesterday and a week ago and a year
ago.
Warning signals
In analysing records, observations and discoveries we should
pay attention to four little warning signals extracted from
Alfred Korzybski's book Science and Sanity: (1) the
symbol etc. to remind us that what we have found is
only part of the whole; (2) dates to remind us that
things change; (3) index numbers, to keep our identifications
of things clear; (4) hyphens, to remind us that events
are connected.
Whether a statement incorporated in our analysis is true
at this moment, what its connection is with other facts, and
whether we have given undue emphasis to it: these may be tested
by the warning signal device. It becomes evident that our
conclusion cannot be accepted as valid until we have applied
wisdom to the knowledge given by our analysis. Information
and facts are for thinking with: after knowledge comes insight.
Imagination is needed from beginning to end of this problem—solving
process. We need imagination to think up what new knowledge
to seek, where to obtain the needed information, how to see
the connections between facts, and how to weigh and consider
so as to arrive at a true decision. "There may be," says an
appropriate paragraph in Managing Your Mind, a book
by Kraines and Thetford, "a best way to skin a cat or solve
a problem; but usually we need to formulate several ways,
try them out in imagination, and then choose the one which
seems most likely to work."
A few pointers
We are not seeking, in analysing a problem, arguments for
going on believing or acting as we already do. That would
be a witless pursuit indeed. What we seek is to expand our
horizons, to bring within our view all that will help us to
reach wise decisions, and then to concentrate our thinking
upon the things that are significant from the telescopic to
the microscopic, as it were.
Strange facts coming to view may beget strange thoughts
and suggest revolutionary ideas: he who seeks a right solution
of his problem will be receptive to them all, and will test
them, but he will not go beyond his evidence.
The wise analyst will not be fanatical. He does not wish
to become so occupied in tearing flowers to pieces and studying
their mechanism that he neglects to stand back and see the
daisy whole. He will not become such a slave to analysing
and planning that he has no time left to do things. There
is no necessary virtue in "planning" itself: we must have
a purpose, knowing what justifies the ends served by the planning.
A good analysis cannot be made by a person who is satisfied
with things as they are, or who, being dissatisfied, accepts
complacently the thought that it is impossible to improve
them. There is a better way of doing most things, and the
purpose of analysis is to find that better way.
Chance and change are preparing an ambush for the man who
is coasting without a plan, but they will not catch unawares
the man who maintains an inquiring attitude.
Published by RBC Financial Group. All editions from the RBC
Letter collection are available on our web site at www.rbc.com/responsibility/letter.
Our e-mail address is: rbcletter@rbc.com.
Publié aussi en francais.
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