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Archive for the ‘principles’ Category

The Three Commandments of Every Enterprise

Saturday, September 18th, 2010

Granted, I haven’t spend much of my life working. But the few years I have spent allowed me to see some things that work and some that don’t. Here are some of the high-level principles that in my view make companies excellent:

  • Innovation — a company that doesn’t innovate by definition becomes obsolete — its days are numbered. All products have a lifecycle, and so innovation is a necessary component of staying ahead of that natural process of product aging and death. Note that innovation should apply not only to the stuff you make; it should apply to tools (upgrade them!) and processes (think of better ways to get something achieved!) you use and also people you hire (train! hire the right talent!).
  • Codification — once innovated, products and processes need to be systematized. This lowers the costs, makes the output more predictable, and protects you from losing the things you innovated on. Again, this applies to the stuff you make, but also in general — any decisions you make
  • Flexibility — if you can’t turn around your product (but also your processes and people) fast enough, you will never be able to deal with the increased complexity that is inherent in anything that grows. This may necessitate meta-innovation: the innovation of processes to deal with complexity itself.

Good Design, continued

Saturday, September 11th, 2010

I already talked briefly about design in my “tree of concepts” as the thing that allows us to answer a simple question of what we should be doing. However, to leave it at that is a cop-out — the design is by far the hardest part of the puzzle. I continually see people come up with poor designs, which cause lots of problems (which those people fail to attribute to poor design, but instead, blame on poor inputs). For example, if you are a CEO of a company and your design is to hire people who will do the right thing based on some simple guidelines, and if the people keep failing, do you keep hiring hoping for the right person to show up? Or do you rethink your design, admitting a possibility that such a design is not likely to succeed?

Good design is an art and so there is no step-by-step guide to it. There are some principles of good designs — statements that usually hold true that provide you with both the constraints and the scaffolding to bootstrap the design. I listed a few of them last time — but here is a little more thought-out list (note how these principles connect with each other):

  • Good design is natural — it feels right. Perhaps it actually borrows from nature
  • Good design makes few assumptions — and those it does make are worth calling out. Most designs fail because of an assumption that wasn’t, or ceased to be true. It’s important to understand the magnitude (the number of degrees of freedom) of the assumption — for example, a design relying on people to do the right thing has a relatively significant assumption built into it
  • Good design is consistent — once you list the assumptions, you should make sure they don’t contradict one another.
  • Good design is simple — There is a tendency for people to fix designs by tacking on exceptions. This is more likely to introduce inconsistencies
  • Good design is robust and forgiving — a robust design is not likely to cause problems that require you to overcomplicate it. Remember that humans err, things always go wrong. If your design is relatively slow to change, those unexpected events may cause a lot of problems
  • Good design is agile — you won’t design it right the first time, so build mechanisms in for improvement (for example, an evolutionary one — consider several options and choose those that work better over time). However, don’t violate any of the above principles (often people take a lazy approach to design because they think they can change it any time they want. That does not produce good designs)

Fundamental changes

Wednesday, September 8th, 2010

Do you believe that people can change fundamentally? I do. Of course, fundamental change requires deep introspection and a strong force of will, but I believe that the only thing that stands in the way of profound change is risk aversion. We like who we are, and we are afraid of who we may be — even if that may end up being the best thing we’ve ever done with ourselves.

For some strange reason our society, especially my generation, feels compelled to yield to impatience — achieve things early in life, master skills quickly (what an oxymoron!). Because of that we strive to take the shortest possible path to what we perceive as success. I will venture a claim that this is ridiculous (even though I subscribe to this notion just as much) because in life, very few decisions we find ourselves making are critical in that they may lead to regret. They are defining — the smallest decisions we make may alter our lives significantly — but if we are reasonable, we will make the most of wherever these decisions will take us. Fortunately, we do not have the gift of foresight so obsessing over which decision is the best one whenever one needs to decide is simply unwise.

The Purge

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

My philosophy on what to do in life changes slightly, which leads to fairly big changes in the actual plan. My philosophy for when I was 24 was to live free. This has morphed into a philosophy of experiencing, learning and achieving, and a year later I focused on determining my life’s purpose. A year after that my philosophy became one of five “elements”: purpose, health, understanding and creativity, and doing things so as to decrease my anxiety. I’m now on the verge of yet another transformation, triggered by realizing that doing too much results in very little (and added frustration). Hence the Purge.

The idea of the Purge is simple: shed the superfluous elements of my life and focus on what’s really important. This was informed by a known weakness of mine where it takes me a lot of effort to start something (the threshold for starting a new activity is high), but once I’m into it I will find it very difficult to stop. A good test for this will be to imagine asking myself a year from now what I have achieved and being satisfied with the answer.

Some of the easy things fell off the list pretty quickly. The first one were the blogs I was subscribed to — I used to read about 200 blog posts a day, ranging from what was going on in New York City to a blog dedicated to making stuff. Given that I’m way behind on making stuff, and have enough to do in New York City, I purged the list to the most important 20 a day, mostly from reddit.com

The theory of classifying things

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

One of the most valuable abilities a person can boast, in my view, is the ability to classify. It’s very closely related to the ability to think in terms of layers of abstraction, since categories are just abstractions on top of the objects being classified.

Most people are really bad at any kind of categorization — they either simply don’t do it (just look at people’s desktops on their computers) or come up with very poor categorizations and as a result find it difficult to locate finds in a large set or synthesize properties of sets efficiently (which are the two operations that good classifications make trivial; and the two operations that are actually fairly commonly needed. There is also a lot of money to be made on good categorization systems, for example, in systems that allow customers to search for products to purchase).

A friend of mine W.D. pointed out that taxonomies are dangerous. I will agree with him: to create a classification system for the sake of it is not only wasteful, but also risks inaccurate generalizations being made. But a good classification, supported with the goals of that classification, is invaluable.

Some principles that should guide a good taxonomy are:

  • Unique representation — everything should have a single, deterministic place in the hierarchy
  • Meaningful dimensions — ideally you should be able to express each dimension (or category) in as few words as possible. Arbitrary divisions don’t make it easy to find things and make for a weak hierarchy, even if they allow you to bifurcate your set of objects right down the middle
  • Reasonably sized dimensions — in a perfect classification, each added property halves the number of items in it. This will, of course, never be true but there are good ways to split the set into by-and-large equivalently-sized sets. This balances the categorization (it won’t take a large number of dimensions to describe an object – for a perfect classification, you only need 12 bits of information to classify four thousand objects, which with a good category system, may mean three dimensions that each take one of sixteen values
  • Separable dimensions — ideally each dimension should be fully disjoint from all other — if shouldn’t matter if you apply a condition first or last. Unfortunately, most times, the further dimensions vary depending on the values of the prior dimensions. For a good example, visit Amazon.com and see how the filters change based on what category of items you select. If the dimensions are separable, you can more efficiently find things by picking the relevant dimension first

Discerning Tastes

Wednesday, July 14th, 2010

Over our lifetime, we get to know ourselves better. Our tastes follow a gradual solidification process (we settle on a some classes of things) but also a gradual migration process (for example, we acquire some tastes). We become more aware of (or discover) concepts and products that align with our tastes more precisely and give us positive utility (I can’t decide whether the marginal utility increases or decreases with age — it may be the former because as we get more sophisticated, the potential for significant utility gets unlocked; or the latter because as we get older, we strive harder and harder for gaining a little bit of additional utility).

It’s interesting to trace that evolution because very often what we settle on isn’t that different from what is the most natural (and may be seen as least sophisticated). Our tastes don’t necessarily follow a linear path. Yes, most of the time we end up purchasing products which are increasingly more expensive (because later in life, we can afford them — or, to put it differently, we get sensitive to comfort and are willing to pay more for it), but there are some interesting cyclical patterns.

For example, as we spend more of our lives cooking, we discover organic food. At first we join the organic food bangwagon, expanding the trend into things like the organic duvet cover (I actually bought one recently!). Soon we realize that supermarket food just doesn’t cut it, and discover CSAs, or start growing food in our own backyards. In our quest to find the best-tasting food, we are willing to forgo the comfort of an all-in-one-supermarket purchase and go as far as spend the time to wait for random food to arrive, or outright grow our own food.

Photography is an interesting field, mostly because everyone seems to be interested in photography these days. We get spec-buff point-and-shoots that make our friends jealous and our parents dizzy with settings. The first step towards the increasing sophistication of taste is the abandoning of flash. We then buy a decent SLR, and after many thousand shots finally decide to stop using the lowest aperture setting. As we get more “serious” about photography, we buy more lenses (many of which are more expensive than the camera), but for many of us, the favorite lens becomes one that is not a zoom lens — but one that sees things the same way the human eye does. What starts as the race for the highest megapixel count, slowly transforms into the desire to have as many features at our disposal, then the ability to take complex pictures (shallow depth of field, crazy zoom like the macro shots of virtually everything that I make fun of my friend for taking), only to arrive at the desire to simply take pictures that express something (“Does it say anything” is a question I realized I should ask myself when deciding whether to keep a photo or not).

The cycles can be found elsewhere. Starting at regular light bulbs, we move on to energy-saving bulbs and lights with a gradation in the intensity setting (God I loved those when I first saw them in my neighbor’s flat when I was 8). We realize that our mood improves if we get full-spectrum lightbulbs. Finally, as we get older, we go outside, desiring natural light.

Sometimes I wish our future selves could tell us “don’t overcomplicate.” There again, the result is something we can only get to if we experience the journey ourselves.

Structured thinking

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

I see this over and over again… the ability to think in a structured way provides a lot of value, yet it is incredibly rare.

At first I was shocked at how people at work made poor decisions all the time. They weren’t important decisions, ones that had to go through layers of double-verification and those that had good justification behind them. I mean about decisions one usually makes in a flash, such as what to name this file or this wiki page, or how to plan one’s vacation. I realized that people don’t think in terms of categories or hierarchies of ideas; everything is flat in their heads.

The problem with the lack of structure is that human brains can only store so much unstructured information (in my experience between ten and one-hundred items… for me it’s closer to 10), and, of course, unstructured information is not exportable. Which means that while it may be easier to call the file Template, the next person will have no idea what it means because they have no context. If you call it Finance.ReimbursementTemplate, nobody will be confused (namespaces, or naming things by ever-so-specialized sets of prefixes, are one of the most incredible ways to ensure structure).

But structured thinking goes much further than some file naming conventions. I realized that I tend to use my structured thinking approach in conversations (In fact, I think it’s become visceral at this point): I would start with a high level discussion, and then progress to lower levels when necessary.

Personally I found structured thinking to be a great way to address my weakness of poor information retention. I can’t keep too many things in my scratchpad memory so I structure my thought to minimize the amount of information I need to memorize (as opposed to the information I can deduce from the right structure). Structured thinking also prevents one of the most common reasons of unsuccessful meetings — revisiting old points and going in circles: if you start with the right taxonomy, you will ensure that you talk about higher levels of things before you jump to the details. You can prune the tree significantly that way.

Civilizational invariants

Wednesday, June 16th, 2010

The world was very different three thousand years ago. Yet there are some things that never change, no matter how advanced we are. Of course, the local view of history theory helps us a lot because it says that a lot of things are simply cyclical (for example, one could argue that the Roman civilization right before its collapse was very similar to the American culture right now — hung up on instant gratification. It’s almost as if some properties governing our lives increased in frequency until the frequency is so high that it begins to interfere with the stability of the system!), but even without that, there are some things we can point out that will always be around in a pretty much just as complex a form as they have always been.

It may sound corny, but one such property is love. Relationships have been complicated thousands of years ago, they are complicated now and they will be in the future. This is, presumably, why the best timeless stories have to do about love, and why good science fiction touches on the concept of love (2046 is a good example).

Death (not taxes) is also a good concept. A large component of the human culture, but also civilization, revolves around the beautiful truth that we will never know what happens to us after death. A lot of money was made out of that truth (Catholic church in the mediaeval times, just to point out one example). Hell, the whole idea behind the American nation (pursuit of happiness — why? — because no matter what your belief is, life after death is still just a possibility) is based on the uncertainty around death.

Another concept that’s inherent to civilization is one of hierarchy. Civilization implies specialization, which implies exclusivity, which implies hierarchy. The notion of hierarchy creates a kind of “brownie point” system which keeps people motivated — together with the expectation of upward social mobility, it is probably the reason why the American society is so stable — 90% of people think they can ultimately be in the top 10% of wealth in the country. This can only be beat by the notion that happiness is this impossible to define quality that can’t be quantified and has interesting properties, such as apparent zero correlation to any measure we can think of (which means that, say, rich or powerful people can get away with being rich or powerful because, as it is common knowledge, wealth or power does not make you happy!).

Think of your Plan B

Thursday, May 27th, 2010

When planning things such as a trip, there are two kinds of people: those who only think in terms of happy paths, and those that take into account the chance of things going wrong. I am learning to be in the latter group.

Now, of the latter group, there are two kinds of people: those who simply add buffer time, and those who have contingencies in case their Plan A doesn’t work out. While having some buffer is often a fine way to plan for things going wrong (for example, traffic on the way to the airport), it’s often ineffective. Be creative and think of your Plan B instead of defaulting to just adding more time to your plan.

Spontaneity

Wednesday, April 28th, 2010

To truly have a vacation means to enjoy it spontaneously. I realized that just after I realized that I never really had a vacation — most of my time off in the past has been taken getting things crossed off lists and being part of others’ time off.

As I am deciding to take a week off in the Summer to go to Italy, I am tempted to do exactly that: be spontaneous. Wake up, and decide on the fly what I feel like. I think, in addition to being a true vacation, it will also be a higher quality one: because I will be able cater to my feelings and desires as they happen, rather than make plans ahead of time irrespective of how I will feel on a particular day. Do I really want to see the Coliseum today? Why decide sooner than today.

That inability to be spontaneous manifests itself in other ways. For example, while a lot of my friends did, I didn’t enjoy Avatar. A lot of my friends enjoyed the way it drew them in, gave them a feeling of high, so to speak. I sought some higher purpose, a meaning, or an aesthetic, and got neither. I think if I were spontaneous, I would be able to connect to the natural desire of the human mind to be taken to places.

How does one become spontaneous? Ha. (It’s not like there’s a 12-point plan to being spontaneous–I am constantly shocked by how many people make money out of people who don’t understand the irony in this). I think, at least for me, the key to this is to first let go of my desire to control things (yes, I am a huge control freak). This means doing things which I’m not comfortable with (there’s a difference between comfort and what–for a lack of a better word–I’ll call synchronicity that comes from doing things spontaneously). Like go ride a motorbike with my friend in Thailand without a map or purpose, and even though neither of us ever rode one (unsurprisingly, this ended up being the highlight of our stay on this island).

Another thing I have to do is to mitigate risks that don’t directly affect spontaneity. For example, I will read about Italy a lot before going there, because it’s hard to be spontaneous if you don’t have options (and nothing paralyses me more than having to make a decision without knowing what options there are). But I will not ask myself what I would like to do. While it may seem trite, there is something incredibly liberating about waking up and deciding, randomly and on the fly, that I want to do X.

Overthinking it is also an obstacle to spontaneity. I will try to think as little about my vacation as possible. Sure, it will be painful (this is one exception to my rule about ordering things to do), but the effect will be beautiful: here I will be, in Italy, having to rely entirely on what I feel like, what I’ve read, and what I see (my guess on why I’m not spontaneous has to do with the fact that I haven’t really been forced or encouraged to express opinions or preferences until late in life).