• Interruptions are probably the most disruptive type of distraction. Even the expectation of possible interruption is counterproductive to insight, because it prevents total immersion in the problem.
Perhaps the most potent step that one can take toward enhancing both productivity and insights is to
allot an interruption-free portion of each day or week to thinking about, rather than ‘doing’, science.
Platt and Baker [1931] received many comments such as these on the problem of interruptions:
“As an example of the benefit due to freedom from interruptions try going to the laboratory on a holiday. Note how easily many formerly complicated problems straighten themselves out, how smoothly the mind works, and how much work is accomplished with little effort.”
“Any employer of my services who wanted creative thinking oftener THAN ONCE A DAY, SHOULD RELIEVE ME OF MY ADMINISTRATIVE WORK, otherwise I might describe myself as a hard worker during the day on the mechanics of the job and a creative thinker at night on my own time.”
• Conditioned thinking can prevent a person from adopting the new perspective that may be needed to solve a problem. A common response in the business world is to ask employees to “think outside the box”. In contrast, the zoo mammal, when moved to a larger cage, continues to pace an area similar to that of the old cage [Biondi, 1980].
Beveridge [1955] suggests several ways to break free from conditioned thinking. Set the problem aside for a while then resume; as discussed in the previous section, temporary abandonment helps by allowing the established thought pattern to fade, perhaps permitting a new one to start. More drastically, one may need to start over from the beginning with a very different approach. Talking over the puzzle with others or writing up the project can provide the new perspective. Reading related papers, or even potentially relevant papers on different subjects, at least will drive a wedge between conditioned thinking and the problem. They also may evoke a useful analogy. The value of abandoning conditioned thinking is the lesson of the Sufi story, The River, which began this chapter.
More dangerous than the factors preventing insight is excessive confidence in one’s insight. An almost universal characteristic of insight is the conviction of truth. Unlike the scientist’s normal attitude that hypotheses can be disproved but not proved, the flash of insight often is accompanied by a certainty that the discovered pattern is so elegant that it must be true. This certainty is a scientific pitfall that can undermine the objective undertaking of the fourth stage of research: verification. When Platt and Baker [1931] polled scientists and asked whether they had ever had a revelation that turned out to be wrong, only 7% said that their insights were always correct.
Part of this conviction of truth may be attributable to the sudden breakthrough of pattern recognition. The greater the breadth of the pattern and its apparent ability to account for disparate observations, the greater the conviction of truth. Yet cold analysis may reveal fatal flaws in the insight.
Last winter my scientist wife and I talked often about her unexplained research results. She tested and rejected many hypotheses. Then I had an exhilarating insight into what the ‘true’ explanation was. I explained my complex model to her, as well as the surprising and therefore diagnostic results that my model predicted for two experiments that she had not done yet. She pointed out that the model was contrary to conventional theory; I agreed with a smile and with unshaken conviction of my
