The Skill You’ve Never Been Taught: How to Think Better

No skill is more valuable or harder to come by than the ability to critically think through problems.

Thinking better than others means you’ll have more free time and fewer problems. If you can’t think well, you’ll spend a lot of time fixing avoidable mistakes.

If you stop thinking when most people stop thinking, you’ll come to the same conclusions most people come to. Thinking is hard, so it’s natural that most people stop as soon as possible. We get the gist of something and move on to the next problem.

How can we learn to think better? While most advice focuses on quick tips, real improvement requires understanding how thinking itself works.

One answer comes from the lecture Solitude and Leadership by William Deresiewicz, author of the New York Times bestseller Excellent Sheep: The Miseducation of the American Elite and the Way to a Meaningful Life. The entire speech, which was delivered at Westpoint, is worth reading, but here is the essential takeaway.

Learning How To Think

Let’s start with how you don’t learn to think. A study by a team of researchers at Stanford came out a couple of months ago. The investigators wanted to figure out how today’s college students were able to multitask so much more effectively than adults. How do they manage to do it, the researchers asked? The answer, they discovered—and this is by no means what they expected—is that they don’t. The enhanced cognitive abilities the investigators expected to find, the mental faculties that enable people to multitask effectively, were simply not there. In other words, people do not multitask effectively. And here’s the really surprising finding: the more people multitask, the worse they are, not just at other mental abilities, but at multitasking itself.

One thing that made the study different from others is that the researchers didn’t test people’s cognitive functions while they were multitasking. They separated the subject group into high multitaskers and low multitaskers and used a different set of tests to measure the kinds of cognitive abilities involved in multitasking. They found that in every case the high multitaskers scored worse. They were worse at distinguishing between relevant and irrelevant information and ignoring the latter. In other words, they were more distractible. They were worse at what you might call “mental filing”: keeping information in the right conceptual boxes and being able to retrieve it quickly. In other words, their minds were more disorganized. And they were even worse at the very thing that defines multitasking itself: switching between tasks.

Multitasking, in short, is not only not thinking, it impairs your ability to think. Thinking means concentrating on one thing long enough to develop an idea about it. Not learning other people’s ideas, or memorizing a body of information, however much those may sometimes be useful. Developing your own ideas. In short, thinking for yourself. You simply cannot do that in bursts of 20 seconds at a time, constantly interrupted by Facebook messages or Twitter tweets, or fiddling with your iPod, or watching something on YouTube.

I find for myself that my first thought is never my best thought. My first thought is always someone else’s; it’s always what I’ve already heard about the subject, always the conventional wisdom. It’s only by concentrating, sticking to the question, being patient, letting all the parts of my mind come into play, that I arrive at an original idea. By giving my brain a chance to make associations, draw connections, take me by surprise. And often even that idea doesn’t turn out to be very good. I need time to think about it, too, to make mistakes and recognize them, to make false starts and correct them, to outlast my impulses, to defeat my desire to declare the job done and move on to the next thing.

I used to have students who bragged to me about how fast they wrote their papers. I would tell them that the great German novelist Thomas Mann said that a writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. The best writers write much more slowly than everyone else, and the better they are, the slower they write. James Joyce wrote Ulysses, the greatest novel of the 20th century, at the rate of about a hundred words a day—half the length of the selection I read you earlier from Heart of Darkness—for seven years. T. S. Eliot, one of the greatest poets our country has ever produced, wrote about 150 pages of poetry over the course of his entire 25-year career. That’s half a page a month. So it is with any other form of thought. You do your best thinking by slowing down and concentrating.

Improving Thinking

The best way to improve your thinking ability is to spend time thinking.

Immersing ourselves in a subject and giving it our full attention offers insights that can’t be gained simply by skimming on the surface.

How can we force ourselves to spend more time thinking?

One way to engage with an idea is to write about it.

While we naturally understand that writing helps share ideas with others, we under-appreciate how it sharpens our own thinking. Writing isn’t just communication – it’s a tool for deeper reasoning. In a world of fragmented attention, writing forces us to slow down and think systematically.

Writing is the process by which we realize we don’t understand and the process by which we come to understand.

Writing requires compressing an idea. When done poorly, compression removes crucial information. When done well, compression keeps the essential and removes the rest. This combination of thinking and clarity is what makes writing such a powerful tool for thought.

Good writing gives poor thinking nowhere to hide. It’s easy to read and flows. Poor writing drags as your mind gets bored sifting through obfuscation to find meaning. Poor writing reveals poor thinking.

The Bottom Line

Writing is thinking made visible. It exposes gaps in reasoning that casual thinking misses and creates a permanent record of insights that would otherwise fade. While sharing writing with others adds valuable perspective, the real power lies in how it forces us to wrestle with our own ideas until they become clear.

Start small. Take one important idea and explore it through writing. Your thinking will sharpen with each word.