Daniel's notes on Shortcut

But as my research progressed, it became clear that analogies do more than just persuade; they also play a catalytic role in innovation and decision making often with dramatic consequences. From the bloody Chicago slaughterhouse that inspired Henry Ford's first moving assembly line, to the "domino theory" that led America into the Vietnam War, to the "bicycle for the mind" that Steve Jobs envisioned as a Macintosh computer, analogies have played a dynamic role in shaping the world around us.

analogies can play a much bigger role than most people recognize. Not just because analogies make arguments, but because they often trigger emotions that override the circuits of reason, and sometimes at a subconscious level. All day every day, in fact, we make or evaluate one analogy after the other, because such comparisons are the only practical way to sort a flood of incoming data, place it within the context of our experience, and make decisions accordingly.

whether we're ordering food in a new restaurant, looking both ways before crossing a busy street, or deciding that an approaching golden retriever is less threatening than the rottweiler we saw earlier, we're making a series of analogies with past experiences that we've already categorized for easy reference.

effective analogies, which are essentially compressed and spring-loaded stories, often enable people to seize the high ground in an argument. In offering a coherent narrative, they allow their creators to deftly sidestep the quicksand of competing "facts" and more closely approach the intellectual and emotional core of their argument.

Much as computers use algorithms to compress digital data, people's minds seek efficient ways to compress mental data. One tactic we use is to record information outside our brains in numbers, written words, images, and recorded sound. Another tactic, this one internal, is remembering stories. And many analogies are just that—compressed stories.

• The more familiar we are with the subject matter of a given analogy, the easier the analogy is to grasp and the more likely it is to resonate. As such, "toilet seat" would likely beat out "horse collar" as a descriptor because, by the 1950s, affluent suburban Americans—Ford Edsel’s target market—were much more familiar with toilet seats than with equine farm equipment.

• due to the way our minds perform embodied simulation, an explicit visual analogy will generally communicate an idea more quickly and effectively than a vague, abstract description. This is because specific images, especially of something familiar, will trigger bigger and more resonant networks of associated images, ideas, and emotions.

Collaborating with a small, relatively unknown software start-up called Microsoft, Apple transformed the Mac's screen into a virtual "desktop" featuring documents, folders, a clipboard, scissors, paste, and even a trash can. Blank documents looked like white paper, which one could "stack" and "overlap," virtually. The trash can "bulged" until it was "emptied." Choices appeared on "menus" and in "windows." And nearly every operation was quick and easy to execute, because all a user had to do was "point" and click.

Jobs talked about Macintosh in a design conference, while the Mac was approaching completion. "The main thing in our design is that we have to make things intuitively obvious," he said. "People know how to deal with a desktop intuitively. If you walk into an office, there are papers on the desk. The one on top is the most important. People know how to switch priority. Part of the reason we model our computers on metaphors like the desktop is that we can leverage this experience that people already have."

The desktop analogy continued to flourish and spread. Over the course of the following three decades, it would not just enable and facilitate the daily work of billions of people around the world but reshape the way people interacted with digital devices generally, and therefore with each other. In the broadest sense, the genie Jobs had released—democratic access to computing power—was out of the bottle forever, and the information age had truly begun.

Once we are instructed not to think of an elephant, it becomes hard—impossible, actually—to chase the elephant from our mind. At least, it's hard until we stop thinking about the instruction altogether and allow our mind to move on to other topics. But as soon as the instruction floats back into consciousness, there's that elephant again, looming large. And not just an elephant, but a wide range of associated ideas an elephant might trigger, such as other exotic animals—perhaps lions or hippos—images of Africa, thoughts about the circus or even of the GOP.

how do some analogies function so effectively? Essentially, they meet five criteria: 1. Use the familiar to explain something less familiar. 2. Highlight similarities and obscure differences. 3. Identify useful abstractions. 4. Tell a coherent story. 5. Resonate emotionally.

Westen writes, "Our brains have a remarkable capacity to find their way toward convenient truths even if they're not all that true." In other words, we jump to conclusions, recruit arguments to support them, and then organize these arguments into the most coherent possible story. Ultimately, it is the consistency of the story, not its completeness, that helps make it effective. As spring-loaded stories, effective analogies work in much the same way by offering an incomplete but coherent narrative that bolsters an emotionally satisfying conclusion.

The most immediate impact of Gutenberg's invention (printing press) was on business, banking, and government, as large institutions across Europe quickly embraced the technology. His press and those of imitators quickly brought the cost of printing down so much that it helped spark the rapid diffusion of knowledge, the rise of widespread literacy, and the dramatic acceleration of European intellectual and economic progress.