Monthly Archives: January 2014

The Psychology of Usefulness: The Acceptance of Technology – Part One

oldpeopletech7_317161In the last post, I talked about what it takes to break a habit built around an online tool, website or application. In today’s post, I want to talk about what happens when we decide to replace that functional aid, whatever it might be.

So, as I said last time, the biggest factor contributing to the breakdown of habit is the resetting of our expectation of what is an acceptable outcome. If our current tools no longer meet this expectation, then we start shopping for a new alternative. In marketing terms, this would be the triggering of need.

Now, this breakdown of expectation can play out in one of two ways. First, if we’re not aware of an alternative solution, we may just feel an accumulation of frustration and dissatisfaction with our current tools. This build up of frustration can create a foundation for further “usefulness foraging” but generally isn’t enough by itself to trigger action. This lends support to my hypothesis that we’re borrowing the evolved Marginal Value algorithm to help us judge the usefulness of our current tools. To put it in biological terms we’re more familiar with, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” You don’t leave a food patch unless: A) you are reasonably sure there’s another, more promising, patch that can be reached with acceptable effort or B) you have completely exhausted the food available in the patch you’re in. I believe the same is true for usefulness. We don’t throw out what we have until we either know there’s an acceptable alternative that promises a worthwhile increase in usefulness or our current tool is completely useless. Until then, we put up with the frustration.

The Technology Acceptance Model

Let’s say that we have decided that it’s worth the effort to find an alternative. What are the mechanisms we use to find the best alternative? Fred Davis and Richard Bagozzi tackled that question in 1989 and came up with the first version of their Technology Acceptance Model. It took the Theory of Reasoned Action, developed by Martin Fishbein and Icek Ajzen, put forward a decade earlier (1975, 1980) and tried to apply it to the adoption of a new technology. They also relied on the work Everett Rogers did in the diffusion of technology.

First of all, like all models, the TAM had to make some assumptions to simplify real world decisions down to a theoretical model. And, in doing so, it has required a number of revisions to try to bring it closer to what technology adoption decisions look like in the real world.

Let’s start with the foundation of the Theory of Reasoned Action. In it’s simplest form, the TRA says that voluntary behavior is predicted by an individual’s attitude towards that behavior and how they think others would think of them if they performed that behavior.

TRA

So, let’s take the theory for a test drive – if you believe that exercising will increase your health and you also believe that others in your social circle will applaud you for exercising, you’ll exercise. With this example, I think you begin to see where the original TRA may run into problems. Even with the best of intentions, we may not actually make it to the gym. Fishbein and Ajzen’s goal was to create an elegant, parsimonious model that would reliably predict both behaviors and intentions, creating a distinction between the two. Were they successful?

In a meta-analysis of TRA, Sheppard et al (1988) found that attitude was a fairly accurate predictor of intention. If you believe going to the gym is a good thing, you will probably intend to go to the gym. The model didn’t do quite as good a job in predicting behavior. Even if you did intend to go to the gym, would you actually go?

The successful progression from intention to behavior seemed to be reliant on several real world factors, including the time between intention and action (the longer the time interval, the more the degree of erosion of intention) and also lack of control. For example, in the gym example, what if your gym suddenly increased it’s membership fees, or a sudden snowstorm made it difficult to drive there.

Also, if you were choosing from a set of clear alternatives and had to choose one, TRA did a pretty good job of predicting behaviors. But if alternatives were undetermined, or there were other variables to consider, then the predictive accuracy of TRA dropped significantly.

Let me offer an example of how TRA might not work very well in a real world setting. In my book, The BuyerSphere Project, I spent a lot of time looking at the decision process in B2B buying scenarios. If we used the TRA model, we could say that if a buyer had to choose between 4 different software programs for their company, we could use their attitudes towards each of the respective programs as well as the aggregated (and weighted  – because not every opinion should carry the same weight) attitudes towards these programs of the buyer’s co-workers, peers and bosses to determine their intention. And once we have their intention, that should lead to behavior.

But in this scenario, let’s look at some of the simplifying assumptions we’ve had to make to try to cram a real world scenario into the Fishbein Azjen model:

  • We assume a purchase will have to be made from one of the four alternatives. In a real world situation, the company may well decide to stick with what they have
  • We assume the four choices will remain static and we won’t get a new candidate out of left field
  • We assume that attitudes towards each of the alternatives will remain static through the behavioral interval and won’t change. This almost never happens in B2B buying scenarios
  • We assume the buyer – or rational agent – will be in full control of their behaviors and the ultimate decision. Again, this is rarely the case in B2B buying decisions.
  • We assume that there won’t be some mitigating factor that arises in between intention and behavior – for example a spending freeze or a change in requirements.

As you can see, in trying to create a parsimonious model, Fishbein and Azjen ran into a common trap – they had to simplify to the point where it failed to work consistently in the real world.

But, in this review by Alice Darnell, she pointed out Sheppard’s main criticism of the TRA model:

Sheppard et al. (1988) also addressed the model’s main limitation, which is that it fails to account for behavioural outcomes which are only partly under the individual’s volitional control.

I’ve added bolding to the word volitional on purpose. I’ve highlighted many external factors that may lie beyond the volitional control of the individual, but I think the biggest limitation of the TRA lies in its name: Theory of Reasoned Action. It assumes that reason drives our intentions and behaviors. It doesn’t account for emotion.

Applying Reasoned Action to Technology Acceptance

Now, let’s see how Rogers and Bagozzi took Fishbein and Azien’s foundational work and applied it to the acceptance of new technologies.

In their first model (1989) they took attitudes and subjective norms (the attitudes of others) and adapted them for a more applied activity, the use of a new technological tool. They came up with two attitude drivers: Perceived Usefulness and Perceived Ease of Use. If you think back to Charnov’s Marginal Value Theorem, this is exactly the same risk/reward mechanism at work here.  In foraging, it would be yield of food over perceived required effort. In Technology Acceptance, Perceived Usefulness is the reward and Perceived Ease of Use is the risk to be calculated. In the mental calculation, Rogers and Bagozzi assume the user would do a quick mental calculation, using their own knowledge and the knowledge of others to come up with a Usefulness/Ease value that would create their attitude towards using.  This then becomes their Behavioral Intention to Use – which should lead to Actual System Use.

tam

The TAM model was clean and parsimonious. There was just one problem. It didn’t do a very good job of predicting usage in real world situations. There seemed to be much more at work here in actual decisions to accept technologies. In the next post, we’ll look at how the TAM model was modified to bring it closer to real behaviors.

Never Underestimate the Human Ability to Ignore Data

First published January 30, 2014 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

ignore_factsIt’s one thing to have data. It’s another to pay attention to it.

We marketers are stumbling over ourselves to move to data-driven marketing. No one would say that’s a bad thing. But here’s the catch in that. Data driven marketing is all well and good when it’s a small stakes game – optimizing spend, targeting, conversion rates, etc. If we gain a point or two on the topside, so much the better. And if we screw up and lose a point or two – well – mistakes happen and as long as we fix it quickly, no permanent harm done.

But what if the data is telling us something we don’t want to know? I mean – something we really don’t want to know. For instance, our brand messaging is complete BS in the eyes of our target market, or they feel our products suck, or our primary revenue source appears to be drying up or our entire strategic direction looks to be heading over a cliff? What then?

This reminds me of a certain CMO of my acquaintance who was a “Numbers Guy.” In actual fact, he was a numbers guy only if the numbers said what he wanted them to say. If not, then he’d ask for a different set of numbers that confirmed his view of the world. This data hypocrisy generated a tremendous amount of bogus activity in his team, as they ran around grabbing numbers out of the air and massaging them to keep their boss happy. I call this quantifiable bullshit.

I think this is why data tends to be used to optimize tactics, but why it’s much more difficult to use data to inform strategy. The stakes are much higher and even if the data is providing clear predictive signals, it may be predicting a future we’d rather not accept. Then we fall back on our default human defense: ignore, ignore, ignore.

Let me give you an example. Any human who functions even slightly above the level of brain dead has to accept the data that says our climate is changing. The signals couldn’t be clearer. And if we choose to pay attention to the data, the future looks pretty damn scary. Best-case scenario – we’re probably screwing up the planet for our children and grand children. Worst-case scenario – we’re definitely screwing up the planet and it will happen in our lifetime. And we’re not talking about an increased risk of sunburn. We’re talking about the potential end of our species. So what do we do? We ignore it. Even when flooding, drought and ice storms without historic precedent are happening in our back yards. Even when Atlanta is paralyzed by a freak winter storm. Nothing about what is happening is good news, and it’s going to get worse. So, damn the data, let’s just look the other way.

In a recent poll by the Wall Street Journal, out of a list of 15 things that Americans believed should be top priorities for President Obama and Congress, climate change came out dead last – behind pension reform, Iran’s nuclear program and immigration legislation. Yet, if we look at the data that the UN and the World Economic Forum collects, quantifying the biggest threats to our existence, climate change is consistently near the top, both in terms of likelihood and impact. But, it’s really hard to do something about it. It’s a story we don’t want to hear, so we just ignore the data, like the afore-said CMO.

As we get access to more and more data, it will be harder and harder to remain uninformed, but I suspect it will have little impact on our ability to be ignorant. If we don’t know something, we don’t know it. But if we can know something, and we choose not to, that’s a completely different matter. That’s embracing ignorance. And that’s dangerous. In fact, it could be deadly.

Who Owns Your Data (and Who Should?)

First published January 23, 2104 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

Lock backgroundLast week, I talked about a backlash to wearable technology. Simon Jones, in his comment, pointed to a recent post where he raised the very pertinent point – your personal data has value. Today, I’d like to explore this further.

I think we’re all on the same page when we say there is a tidal wave of data that will be created in the coming decade. We use apps – which create data. We use/wear various connected personal devices – which create data. We go to online destinations – which create data. We interact with an ever-increasing number of wired “things” – which create data. We interact socially through digital channels – which create data.  We entertain ourselves with online content – which creates data. We visit a doctor and have some tests done – which creates data. We buy things, both online and off, and these actions also create data. Pretty much anything we do now, wherever we do it, leaves a data trail. And some of that data, indeed, much of it, can be intensely personal.

As I said some weeks ago, all this data is creating a eco-system that is rapidly multiplying and, in its current state, is incredibly fractured and chaotic. But, as Simon Jones rightly points out, there is significant value in that data. Marketers will pay handsomely to have access to it.

But what, or whom, will bring order to this chaotic and emerging market? The value of the data compounds quickly when it’s aggregated, filtered, cross-tabulated for correlations and then analyzed. As I said before, the captured data is its fragmented state is akin to a natural resource. To get to a more usable end state, you need to add a value layer on top of it. This value layer will provide the required additional steps to extract the full worth of that data.

So, to retrace my logic, data has value, even in it’s raw state. Data also has significant privacy implications. And right now, it’s not really clear who owns what data. To move forward into a data market that we can live with, I think we need to set some basic ground rules.

First of all, most of us who are generating data have implicitly agreed to a quid pro quo arrangement – we’ll let you collect data from us if we get an acceptable exchange of something we value. This could be functionality, monetary compensation (usually in the form of discounts and rewards), social connections or entertainment. But here’s the thing about that arrangement – up to now, we really haven’t quantified the value of our personal data. And I think it’s time we did that. We may be trading away too much for much too little.

To this point we haven’t worried much about what we traded off and to whom because any data trails we left have been so fragmented and specific to one context, But, as that data gains more depth and, more importantly, as it combines with other fragments to provide much more information about who we are, what we do, where we go, who we connect with, what we value and how we think, it becomes more and more valuable. It represents an asset for those marketers who want to persuade us, but more critically, that data -our digital DNA – becomes vitally important to us. In it lays the quantifiable footprint of our lives and, like all data, it can yield insights we may never gain elsewhere. In the right hands, it could pinpoint critical weaknesses in our behavioral patterns, red flags in our lifestyle that could develop into future health crises, financial opportunities and traps and ways to allocate time and resources more efficiently. As the digitally connected world becomes denser, deeper and more functional, that data profile will act as our key to it. All the potential of a new fully wired world will rely on our data.

There are millions of corporations that are more than happy to warehouse their respective data profiles of you and sell it back to you on demand as you need it to access their services or tools.  They will also be happy to sell it to anyone else who may need it for their own purposes. Privacy issues aside (at this point, data is commonly aggregated and anonymized) a more fundamental question remains – whose data is this? Whose data should it be? Is this the reward they reap for harvesting the data? Or because this represents you, should it remain your property, with you deciding who uses it and for what?

This represents a slippery slope we may already be starting down.  And, if you believe this is your data and should remain so, it also marks a significant change from what’s currently happening. Remember, the value is not really in the fragments. It’s in bringing it together to create a picture of who you are. And we should be asking the question – who should have the right to create that picture of you – you – or a corporate data marketplace that exists beyond your control ?

The Psychology of Usefulness: How Online Habits are Broken

google-searchLast post, I talked about how Google became a habit – Google being the most extreme case of online loyalty based on functionality I could think of. But here’s the thing with functionally based loyalty – it’s very fickle. In the last post I explained how Charnov’s Marginal Value Theorem dictates how long animals spend foraging in a patch before moving on to the next one. I suspect the same principles apply to our judging of usefulness. We only stay loyal to functionality as long as we believe there are no more functional alternatives available to us for an acceptable investment of effort. If that functionality has become automated in the form of a habit, we may stick with it a little longer, simply because it takes our rational brain awhile to figure out there may be better options, but sooner or later it will blow the whistle and we’ll start exploring our options. Charnov’s internal algorithm will tell us it’s time to move on to the next functional “patch.”

Habits break down when there’s a shift if one of the three prerequisites: frequency, stability or acceptable outcomes.

If we stop doing something on a frequent basis, the habit will slowly decay. But because habits tend to be stored at the limbic level (in the basal ganglia), they prove to be remarkably durable. There’s a reason we say old habits die hard. Even after a long hiatus we find that habits can easily kick back in. Reduction of frequency is probably the least effective way to break a habit.

A more common cause of habitual disruption is a change in stability. Suddenly, if something significant changes in our task environment, our  “habit scripts” start running into obstacles. Think about the last time you did a significant upgrade to a program or application you use all the time. If menu options or paths to common functions change, you find yourself constantly getting frustrated because things aren’t where you expect them to be. Your habit scripts aren’t working for you anymore and you are being forced to think. That feeling of frustration is how the brain protects habits and shows how powerful our neural energy saving mode is. But, even if the task environment becomes unstable for a time, chances are the instability is temporary. The brain will soon reset its habits and we’ll be back plugging subconsciously away at our tasks. Instability does break a habit, but it just rebuilds a new one to take its place.

A more permanent form of habit disruption comes when outcomes are no longer acceptable. The brain hates these types of disruptions, because it knows that finding an alternative could require a significant investment of effort. It basically puts us back at square one. The amount of investment required is dependent on a number of things, including the scope of change required (is it just one aspect of a multi-step task or the entire procedure?), current awareness of acceptable alternatives (is a better solution near at hand or do we have to find it?), the learning curve involved (how different is the alternative from what we’re used to using), are there other adoption requirements (do we have to make an investment of resources – including time and/or money?) and how much down time will be involved in order to adopt the alternative. All these questions are the complexities that can be factors in the Marginal Value Theorem.

Now, let’s look at how each of these potential habit breakers applies to Google. First of all, frequency probably won’t be a factor because we will search more, not less, in the future.

Stability may be a more likely cause. The fact is, the act of online searching hasn’t really changed that much in the last 20 years. We still type in a query and get a list of results. If you look at Google circa 1998, it looks a little clunky and amateurish next to today’s results page, but given that 16 years have come and gone, the biggest surprise is that the search interface hasn’t changed more than it has.

Google now and then

A big reason for this is to maintain stability in the interface, so habits aren’t disrupted. The search page relies on ease of information foraging, so it’s probably the most tested piece of online real estate in history. Every pixel of what you see on Google, and, to a lesser extent, it’s competitors, has been exhaustively tested.

That has been true in the past but because of the third factor, acceptability of outcomes, it’s not likely to remain true in the future. We are now in the age of the app. Searching used to be a discrete function that was just one step of many required to complete a task. We were content to go to a search engine, retrieve information and then use that information elsewhere with other tools or applications. In our minds, we had separate chunks of online functionality that we would assemble as required to meet our end goal.

Let me give you an example. Let’s imagine we’re going to London for a vacation. In order to complete the end goal – booking flights, hotels and whatever else is required – we know we will probably have to go to many different travel sites, look up different types of information and undertake a number of actions. We expect that this will be the best path to take to our end goal. Each chunk of this “master task” may in turn be broken down into separate sub tasks. Along the way, we’ll be relying on those tools that we’re aware of and a number of stored procedures that have proven successful in the past. At the sub-task level, it’s entirely possible that some of those actions have been encoded as habits. For an example of how these tasks and stored procedures would play out in a typical search, see my previous post, A Cognitive Walkthrough of Searching.

But we have to remember that the only reason the brain is willing to go to all this work is that it believes it’s the most efficient route available to it. If there were a better alternative that would produce an acceptable outcome, the brain would take it. Our expectation of what an acceptable outcome would be would be altered, and our Marginal Value algorithm would be reset.

Up to now, functionality and information didn’t intersect too often online. There were places we went to get information, and there were places we went to do things. But from this point forward, expect those two aspects of online to overlap more and more often. Apps will retrieve information and integrate it with usefulness. The travel aggregator sites like Kayak and Expedia are an early example of this. They retrieve pricing information from vendors, user content from review sites and even some destination related information from travel sites. This ups the game in terms of what we expect from online functionality when we book a trip. Our expectation has been reset because Kayak offers a more efficient way to book travel than using search engines and independent vendor sites. That’s why we don’t immediately go to Google when we’re planning a trip.

Let’s fast-forward a few years to see how our expectations could be reset in the future. I suspect we’re not too far away from having an app where our travel preferences have been preset. This proposed app would know how we like to travel and the things we like to do when we’re on vacation. It would know the types of restaurants we like, the attractions we visit, the activities we typically do, the types of accommodation we tend to book, etc.  It would also know the sources we tend to use when qualifying our options (i.e. TripAdvisor). If we had such an app, we would simply put in the bare details of our proposed trip: departure and return dates, proposed destinations and an approximate itinerary. It would then go and assemble suggestions based on our preferences, all in one location. Booking would require a simple click, because our payment and personal information would be stored in the app. There would be no discrete steps, no hopping back and forth between sites, no cutting and pasting of information, no filling out forms with the same information multiple times. After confirmation, the entire trip and all required information would be made available on your mobile device.  And even after the initial booking, the app would continue to comb the internet for new suggestions, reviews or events that you might be interested in attending.

This “mega-app” would take the best of Kayak, TripAdvisor, Yelp, TripIt and many other sites and combine it all in one place. If you love travel as much as I do, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on such an app. And the minute you did, your brain would have reset it’s idea of what an acceptable outcome would be. There would be a cascade of broken habits and discarded procedures.

This integration of functionality and information foraging is where the web will go next. Over the next 10 years, usefulness will become the new benchmark for online loyalty. As this happens, our expectation set points will be changed over and over again. And this, more than anything, will be what impacts user loyalty in the future. This changing of expectations is the single biggest threat that Google faces.

In the next post I’ll look at what happens when our expectations get reset and we have to look at adopting a new technology.

The Inevitable Wearable Technology Backlash

First published January 16, 2014 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

piem-1024x705Okay, I’ve gone on record – I think wearable technology is a huge disruptive wave currently bearing down on us. Accept it.

And I’ve also said that stupid wearable technology is inevitable. Accept that as well.

It appears that this dam is beginning to burst.

Catharine Taylor had a humorous and totally on-point reaction to the “tech-togs” that were unveiled at CES. Her take: “Thanks but no thanks”

Maarten Albarda a similar reaction to his first go-around with Google Glass – “Huh?”

Look – don’t get me wrong. Wearable technology, together with the “web of everything,” will eventually change our lives, but most of us won’t be going willingly. We’re going to have to get through the “bubble of silliness” first. Some of this stuff will make sense and elicit a well-earned “Cool” (or “Dope” or “Sick” or what ever generational thumbs-up is appropriate). Other things will garner an equally well-earned WTF? And some will be imminently sensible but will still end up being tossed out with the bathwater anyway.

Rob Garner always says “adoption follows function” This is true, but each of us has different thresholds for what we deem to be functional. If technology starts moving that bar, we know, thanks to the work of Everett Rogers and others, that the audience’s acceptance of that will follow the inevitable bell curve. Functionality is not equal in the eyes of all beholders.

The other problem with these new interfaces with technology is that function is currently scattered around like a handful of grass clippings in the wind. Sure, there are shards of usefulness, but unless you’re willing to wear more layers of wearable tech than your average early adopting Eskimo (or, as we say here in the politically correct north – Inuit), it’s difficult to see how this can significantly improve our day-to-day lives.

The other thing we have to grapple with is what I would call the WACF – The Weird and Creepy Factor. How exactly do we feel about having the frequency of our butt imprinting our sofa, our bank balance, our blood pressure and our body fat percentage beamed up to the data center of a start up we’d never heard of before last Friday? I’m an admitted early adopter and I have to confess – I’m not ready to make that leap right now.

It’s not just the privacy of my personal data that’s holding me back, although that is certainly a concern. Part of this goes back to something I talked about a few columns back – the redefinition of what it means to “be” online rather than “go” online. With wearable technology, we’re always “on” – plugged into the network and sharing data whether we’re aware of it or not.  This requires us with a philosophical loss of control. Chances are that we haven’t given this a lot of rational consideration, but it contributes to that niggling WACF that may be keeping us from donning the latest piece of wearable tech.

Eventually, the accumulated functionality of all this new technology will overcome all these barriers to adoption, but we will all have differing thresholds marking our surrender to the inevitable.  Garner’s assertion that adoption follows function is true, but it’s true of the functional wave as a whole and in that wave there will be winners and losers. Not all functional improvements get adopted. If all adoption followed all functional improvements, I’d be using a Dvorak keyboard right now. Betamax would have become the standard for videocassettes. And we’d be conversing in Esperanto. All functional improvements – all casualties to an audience not quite ready to embrace them.

Expect more to come.

The Psychology of Usefulness: How We Made Google a Habit

In the last two posts, I looked first at the difference between autotelic and exotelic activities, then how our brain judges the promise of usefulness. In today’s post, I want to return to the original question: How does this impact user loyalty? As we use more and more apps and destinations that rely on advertising for their revenues, this question becomes more critical for those apps and destinations.

The obvious example here is search engines, the original functional destination. Google is the king of search, but also the company most reliant on these ads. For Google, user loyalty is the difference between life and death. In 2012, Google made a shade over 50 billion dollars (give or take a few hundred million). Of this, over $43 billion came from advertising revenue (about 86%) and of that revenue, 62% came from Google’s own search destinations. That a big chunk of revenue to come from one place, so user loyalty is something that Google is paying pretty close attention to.

Now, let’s look at how durable that hold Google has on our brains is. Let’s revisit the evaluation cascade that happens in our brain each time we contemplate a task:

  • If very familiar and highly stable, we do it by habit
  • If fairly familiar but less stable, we do it by a memorized procedure with some conscious guidance
  • If new and unfamiliar, we forage for alternatives by balance effort required against

Not surprisingly, the more our brain has to be involved in judging usefulness, the less loyal we are. If you can become a habit, you are rewarded with a fairly high degree of loyalty. Luckily for Google, they fall into this category – for now. Let’s look at little more at how Google became a habit and what might have to happen for us to break this habit.

Habits depend on three things: high repetition, a stable execution environment and consistently acceptable outcomes. Google was fortunate enough to have all three factors present.

First – repetition. How many times a day do you use a search engine? For me, it’s probably somewhere between 10 and 20 times per day. And usage of search is increasing. We search more now than we did 5 years ago. If you do something that often throughout the day it wouldn’t make much sense to force your brain to actively think it’s way through that task each and every time – especially if the steps required to complete that task don’t really change that much. So, the brain, which is always looking for ways to save energy, records a “habit script” (or, to use the terminology of Ann Graybiel – “chunks”) that can play out without a lot of guidance. Searching definitely meets the requirements for the first step of forming a habit.

Second – stability. How many search engines do you use? If you’re like the majority of North Americans, you probably use Google for almost all your searches.  This introduces what we would call a stable environment. You know where to go, you know how to use it and you know how to use the output. There is a reason why Google is very cautious about changing their layout and only do so after a lot of testing. What you expect and what you get shouldn’t be too far apart. If it is, it’s called disruptive, and disruption breaks habits. This is the last thing that Google wants.

Third – acceptable outcomes. So, if stability preserves habits, why would Google change anything? Why doesn’t Google’s search experience look exactly like it did in 1998 (fun fact – if you search Google for “Google in 1998” it will show you exactly what the results page looked like)? That would truly be stable, which should keep those all important habits glued in place. Well, because expectations change. Here’s the thing about expected utility – which I talked about in the last post. Expected utility doesn’t go away when we form a habit, it just moves downstream in the process. When we do a task for the first time, or in an unstable environment, expected utility precedes our choice of alternatives. When a “habit script” or “chunk” plays out, we still need to do a quick assessment of whether we got what we expected. Habits only stay in place if the “habit script” passes this test. If we searched for “Las Vegas hotels” and Google returned results for Russian borscht, that habit wouldn’t last very long.  So, Google constantly has to maintain this delicate balance – meeting expectations without disrupting the user’s experience too much. And expectations are constantly changing.

Internet adoption over time chartWhen Google was introduced in 1998, it created a perfect storm of habit building potential. The introduction coincided with a dramatic uptick in adoption of the internet and usage of web search in particular.  In 1998, 36% of American adults were using the Internet (according to PEW). In 2000, that had climbed to 46% and by 2001 that was up to 59%. More of us were going online, and if we were going online we were also searching.  The average searches per day on Google exploded from under 10,000 in 1998 to 60 million in 2000 and 1.2 billion in 2007. Obviously, we were searching  – a lot – so the frequency of task prerequisite was well in hand.

Now – stability. In the early days of the Internet, there was little stability in our search patterns. We tended to bounce back and forth between a number of different search engines. In fact, the search engines themselves encouraged this by providing “Try your search on…” links for their competitors (an example from Google’s original page is shown below). Because our search tasks were on a number of different engines, there was no environmental stability, so no chance for the creation of a true task. The best our brains could do at this point was store a procedure that required a fair amount of conscious oversight (choosing engines and evaluating outcomes). Stability was further eroded by the fact that some engines were better at some types of searches than others. Some, like Infoseek, were better for timely searches due to their fast indexing cycles and large indexes. Some, like Yahoo, were better at canonical searches that benefited from a hierarchal directory approach. When searching in the pre-Google days, we tended to match our choice of engine to the search we were doing. This required a fairly significant degree of rational neural processing on our part, precluding the formation of a habit.

Googlebottompage1998

But Google’s use of PageRank changed the search ballgame dramatically. Their new way of determining relevancy rankings was consistently better for all types of searches than any of their competitors. As we started to use Google for more types of searches because of their superior results, we stopped using their competitors. This finally created the stability required for habit formation.

Finally, acceptable outcomes. As mentioned above, Google came out of the gate with outcomes that generally exceeded our expectations, set by the spotty results of their competitors. Now, all Google had to do to keep the newly formed habit in place was to continue to meet the user’s expectations of relevancy. Thanks to truly disruptive leap Google took with the introduction of PageRank, they had a huge advantage when it came to search results quality. Google has also done an admirable job of maintaining that quality over the past 15 years. While the gap has narrowed significantly (today, one could argue that Bing comes close on many searches and may even have a slight advantage on certain types of searches) Google has never seriously undershot the user’s expectations when it comes to providing relevant search results. Therefore, Google has never given us a reason to break our habits. This has resulted in a market share that has hovered over 60% for several years now.

When it comes to online loyalty, it’s hard to beat Google’s death grip on search traffic. But, that grip may start to loosen in the near future. In my next post, I’ll look the conditions that can break habitual loyalty, again using Google as an example. I’ll also look at how our brains decide to accept or reject new useful technologies.

The Psychology of Usefulness: How Our Brains Judge What is Useful

To-Do-ListDid you know that “task” and “tax” have the same linguistic roots? They both come from the Latin “taxare” – meaning to appraise. This could explain the lack of enthusiasm we have for both.

Tasks are what I referred to in the last post as an exotelic activity – something we have to do to reach an objective that carries no inherent reward. We do them because we have to do them, not because we want to do them.

When we undertake a task, we want to find the most efficient way to get it done. Usefulness becomes a key criterion. And when we judge usefulness, there are some time-tested procedures the brain uses.

Stored Procedures and Habits

The first question our brain asks when undertaking a task is – have we done this before? Let’s first deal with what happens if the answer is yes:

If we’ve done something before our brains – very quickly and at a subconscious level – asks a number of qualifying questions:

–       How often have we done this?

–       Does the context in which the task plays out remain fairly consistent (i.e. are we dealing with a stable environment)?

–       How successful have we been in carrying out this task in the past

If we’ve done a task a number of times in a stable environment with successful outcomes, it’s probably become a habit. The habit chunk is retrieved from the basal ganglia and plays out without much in the way of rational mediation. Our brain handles the task on autopilot.

If we have less familiarity with the task, or if there’s less stability in the environment, but have done it before we probably have stored procedures, which are set procedural alternatives. These require more in the way of conscious guidance and often have decision points where we have to determine what we do next, based on the results of the previous action.

If we’re entering new territory and can’t draw on past experience, our brains have to get ready to go to work. This is the route least preferred by our brain. It only goes here when there’s no alternative.

Judging Expected Utility and Perceived Risk

If a task requires us to go into unfamiliar territory, there are new routines that the brain must perform. Basically, the brain must place a mental bet on the best path to take, balancing a prediction of a satisfactory outcome against the resources required to complete the task. Psychologists call this “Expected Utility.”

Expected Utility is the brain’s attempt to forecast scenarios that require the balancing of risks and rewards where the outcomes are not known.  The amount of processing invested by the brain is usually tied to the size of the potential risk and reward. Low risk/reward scenarios require less rationalization. The brain drives this balance by using either positive or negative emotional valences, interpreted by us as either anticipation or anxiety. Our emotional balance correlates with the degree of risk or reward.

Expected utility is more commonly applied in financial decision and game theory. In the case of conducting a task, there is usually no monetary element to risk and reward. What we’re risking is our own resources – time and effort. Because these are long established evolved resources, it’s reasonable to assume that we have developed subconscious routines to determine how much effort to expend in return for a possible gain. This would mean that these cognitive evaluations and calculations may happen at a largely subconscious level, or at least, more subconscious than the processing that would happen in evaluating financial gambles or those involving higher degrees of risk and reward.  In that context, it might make sense to look at how we approach another required task – finding food.

Optimal Foraging and Marginal Value

Where we balance gain against expenditure of time and effort, the brain has some highly evolved routines that have developed over our history. The oldest of these would be how we forage for food. But, we also have a knack of borrowing strategies developed for other purposes and using them in new situations.

Pirolli and Card (1999) found, for instance, that we use our food foraging strategies to navigate digital information. Like food, information online tends to be “patchy” and of varying value to us. Often, just like looking for a food source, we have to forage for information by judging the quality of hyperlinks that may take us to those information sources or “patches.” Pirolli and Card called these clues to the quality of information that may lie on the other end of links information scent.

Cartoon_foraging_theoryTied with this foraging strategy is the concept of Marginal Value.  This was first proposed by Eric Charnov in 1976 as a evolved strategy for determining how much time to spend in a food patch before deciding to move on. In a situation with diminishing returns (ie depleted food supplies) the brain must balance effort expended against return. If you happen on a berry bush in the wild, with a reasonable certainty that there are other bushes nearby (perhaps you can see them just a few steps away) you have to mentally solve the following equation – how many berries can be gathered with a reasonable expenditure of effort vs. how much effort would it take to walk to the next bush and how many berries would be available there?

This is somewhat analogous to information foraging, with one key difference. Information isn’t depleted as you consume it. So the rule of diminishing returns is less relevant. But if, as I suspect, we’ve borrowed these subconscious strategies for judging usefulness – both in terms of information and functionality – in online environment, our brains may not know or care about the subtle differences in environments.

The reason why we may not be that rational in the application of these strategies in online encounters is that they play out below the threshold of consciousness. We are not constantly and consciously adjusting our marginal value algorithm or quantifiably assessing the value of an information patch. No, our brains use a quicker and more heuristic method to mediate our output of effort – emotions. Frustration and anxiety tell us it’s time to move onto the next site or application. Feelings of reward and satisfaction indicate we should stay right where we are. The remarkable thing about this is that as quick and dirty as these emotional guidelines are, if you went to the trouble of rationally quantifying the potential of all possible alternatives, using a Bayesian approach, for instance, you’d probably find you ended up in pretty much the same place. These strategies, simmering below the surface of our consciousness, are pretty damn accurate!

So, to sum up this post, when judging the most useful way to get a task done, we have an evaluation cascade that happens very quickly in our brain:

  • If a very familiar task needs to be done in a stable environment, our habits will take over and it will be executed with little or no rational thought.
  • If the task is fairly familiar but requires some conscious guidance, we’ll retrieve a stored procedure and look for successful feedback as we work through it.
  • If a task is relatively new to us, we’ll forage through alternatives for the best way to do it, using evolved biological strategies to help balance risk (in terms of expended effort) against reward.

Now, to return to our original question, how does this evaluation cascade impact long and short-term user loyalty? I’ll return to this question in my next post.

Google Holds the Right Cards for a Horizontal Market

First published January 9, 2014 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

android_trhoneFunctionality builds up, then across. That was the principle of emerging markets that I talked about in last week’s column. Up – then across – breaking down siloes into a more open, competitive and transparent market. I’ll come back here in a moment.

I also talked about how Google + might be defining a new way of thinking about social networking, one free of dependence on destinations. It could create a social lens through which all our online activity passes through, adding functionality and enriching information.

Finally, this week, I read that Google is pushing hard to extend Android as the default operating system in the Open Automotive Alliance – turning cars into really big mobile devices. This builds on Android’s dominance in the smartphone market (with an 82% market share).

See a theme here?

For years, I’ve been talking about the day when search transitions from being a destination to a utility, powering apps which provide very specific functionality that far outstrips anything you could do on a “one size fits all” search portal. This was a good news/bad news scenario for Google, who was the obvious choice to provide this search grid. But, in doing so, they lose their sole right to monetize search traffic, a serious challenge to their primary income source. However, if you piggy back that search functionality onto the de facto operating system that powers all those apps, and then add a highly functional social graph, you have all the makings of a foundation that will support the ‘horizontalization” of the mobile connected market. Put this in place, and revenue opportunities will begin falling into your lap.

The writing is plainly on the wall here. The future is all about mobile connections. It is the foundation of the Web of Things, wearable technology, mobile commerce – anything and everything we see coming down the pipe.  The stakes are massive. And, as markets turn horizontal in the inevitable maturation phase to come, Google seems to be well on their way to creating the required foundations for that market.

Let’s spend a little time looking at how powerful this position might be for Google. Microsoft is still coasting on their success in creating a foundation for the desktop, 30 years later.  The fact that they still exist at all is testament to the power of Windows. But the desktop expansion that happened was reliant on just one device – the PC. And, the adoption curve for the PC took two decades to materialize, due to two things: the prerequisite of a fairly hefty investment in hardware and a relatively steep learning curve. The mobile adoption curve, already the fastest in history, has no such hurdles to clear. Relative entry price points are a fraction of what was required for PCs. Also, the learning curve is minimal. Mobile connectivity will leave the adoption curve of PCs in the dust.

In addition, an explosion of connected devices will propel the spread of mobile connectivity. This is not just about smart phones. Two of the biggest disruptive waves in the next 10 years will be wearable technologies and the Web of Things. Both of these will rely on the same foundations, an open and standardized operating system and the ability to access and share data. At the user interface level, the enhancements of powerful search technologies and social-graph enabled filters will significantly improve the functionality of these devices as they interface with the “cloud.”

In the hand that will have to inevitably be played, it seems that Google is currently holding all the right cards.

Revisiting Entertainment vs Usefulness

brain-cogsSome time ago, I did an extensive series of posts on the psychology of entertainment. My original goal, however, was to compare entertainment and usefulness in how effective they were in engendering long-term loyalty. How do our brains process both? And, to return to my original intent, in that first post almost 4 years ago, how does this impact digital trends and their staying power?

My goal is to find out why some types of entertainment have more staying power than other types. And then, once we discover the psychological underpinnings of entertainment, lets look at how that applies to some of the digital trends I disparaged: things like social networks, micro-blogging, mobile apps and online video. What role does entertainment play in online loyalty? How does it overlap with usefulness? How can digital entertainment fads survive the novelty curse and jump the chasm to a mainstream trends with legs?

In the previous set of posts, I explored the psychology of entertainment extensively, ending up with a discussion of the evolutionary purpose of entertainment. My conclusion was that entertainment lived more in the phenotype than the genotype. To save you going back to that post, I’ll quickly summarize here: the genotype refers to traits actually encoded in our genes through evolution – the hardwired blueprint of our DNA. The phenotype is the “shadow” of these genes – behaviors caused by our genetic blueprints. Genotypes are directly honed by evolution for adaptability and gene survival. Phenotypes are by-products of this process and may confer no evolutionary advantage. Our taste for high-fat foods lives in the genotype – the explosion of obesity in our society lives in the phenotype.

This brings us to the difference between entertainment and usefulness – usefulness relies on mechanisms that predominately live in the genotype.  In the most general terms, it’s the stuff we have to do to get through the day. And to understand how we approach these things on our to-do list, it’s important to understand the difference between autotelic and exotelic activities.

Autotelic activities are the things we do for the sheer pleasure of it. The activity is it’s own reward. The word autotelic is Greek for “self + goal” – or “having a purpose in and not apart from itself.” We look forward to doing autotelic things. All things that we find entertaining are autotelic by nature.

Exotelic activities are simply a necessary means to an end. They have no value in and of themselves.  They’re simply tasks – stuff on our to do list.

The brain, when approaching these two types of activities, treats them very differently. Autotelic activities fire our reward center – the nucleus accumbens. They come with a corresponding hit of dopamine, building repetitive patterns. We look forward to them because of the anticipation of the reward. They typically also engage the prefrontal medial cortex, orchestrating complex cognitive behaviors and helping define our sense of self. When we engage in an autotelic activity, there’s a lot happening in our skulls.

Exotelic activities tend to flip the brain onto its energy saving mode. Because there is little or no neurological reward in these types of activities (other than a sense of relief once they’re done) they tend to rely on the brain’s ability to store and retrieve procedures. With enough repetition, they often become habits, skipping the brain’s rational loop altogether.

In the next post, we’ll look at how the brain tends to process exotelic activities, as it provides some clues about the loyalty building abilities of useful sites or tools. We’ll also look at what happens when something is both exotelic and autotelic.

Our Brain on Books

Brain-on-BooksHere’s another neuroscanning study out of Emory University showing the power of a story.

Lead researcher Gregory Burns and his team wanted to “understand how stories get into your brain, and what they do to it.” Their findings seem to indicate that stories, in this case a historical fiction novel about Pompeii, caused a number of changes in the participants brain, at least in the short term. Over time, some of these changes decayed, but more research is required to determine how long lasting the changes are.

One would expect reading to alter related parts of the brain and this was true in the Emory study. The left temporal cortex, a section of the brain that handles language reception and interpretation showed signs of heightened connectivity for a period of time after reading the novel. This is almost like the residual effects of exercise on a muscle, which responds favorably to usage.

What was interesting, however, was that the team also saw increased connectivity in the areas of the brain that control representations of sensation for the body. This relates to Antonio Damasio’s “Embodied Semantics” theory where the reading of metaphors, especially those relating specifically to tactile images, activate the same parts of the brain that control the corresponding physical activity. The Emory study (and Damasio’s work) seems to show that if you read a novel that depicts physical activity, such as running through the streets of Pompeii as Vesuvius erupts, your brain is firing the same neurons as it would if you were actually doing it!

There are a number of interesting aspects to consider here, but what struck me is the multi-prong impact a story has on us. Let’s run through them:

Narratives have been shown to be tremendously influential frameworks for us to learn and update our sense of the world, including our own belief networks. Books have been a tremendously effect agent for meme transference and propagation. The structure of a story allows us to grasp concepts quickly, but also reinforces those concepts because it engages our brain in a way that a simple recital of facts could not. We relate to protagonists and see the world through their eyes. All our socially tuned, empathetic abilities kick into action when we read a story, helping to embed new information more fully. Reading a story helps shape our world view.

Reading exercises the language centers of our brain, heightening the neural connectivity and improving the effectiveness. Neurologists call this “shadow activity” – a concept similar to muscle memory.

Reading about physical activity fires the same neurons that we would use to do the actual activity. So, if you read an action thriller, even through you’re lying flat on a sofa, your brain thinks you’re the one racing a motorcycle through the streets of Istanbul and battling your arch nemesis on the rooftops of Rome. While it might not do much to improve muscle tone, it does begin to create neural pathways. It’s the same concept of visualization used by Olympic athletes.

For Future Consideration

As we learn more about the underlying neural activity of story reading, I wonder how we can use this to benefit ourselves? The biggest question I have is if a story in written form has this capacity to impact us at all the aforementioned levels, what would  more sense-engaged media like television or video games do? If reading about a physical activity tricks the brain into firing the corresponding sensory controlling neurons, what would happen if we are simulating that activity on an action controlled gaming system like Microsoft’s X Box? My guess would be that the sensory motor connections would obviously be much more active (because we’re physically active). Unfortunately, research in the area of embodied semantics is still at an early stage, so many of the questions have yet to be answered.

However, if our stories are conveyed through a more engaging sensory experience, with full visuals and sound, do we lose some opportunity for abstract analysis? The parts of our brain we use to read depend on relatively slow processing loops. I believe much of the power of reading lies in the requirements it places on our imagination to fill in the sensory blanks. When we read about a scene in Pompeii we have to create the visuals, the soundtrack and the tactile responses. In all this required rendering, does it more fully engage our sense-making capabilities, giving us more time to interpret and absorb?