Chapter 8
The Paradox of Choice

BARRY SCHWARTZ

Western societies are guided by a set of assumptions about well-being that is so deeply embedded in most of us that we don't realize either that we make these assumptions or that there is an alternative. The assumptions can be stated in the form of a rough syllogism:

  1. The more freedom and autonomy people have, the greater their well-being.
  2. The more choice people have, the greater their freedom and autonomy.
  3. Therefore, the more choice people have, the greater their well-being.

It is hard to quarrel—either logically or psychologically—with this syllogism. The moral importance of freedom and autonomy is self-evident, and the psychological importance of freedom and autonomy is now amply documented (e.g., Deci & Ryan, 2000, 2002; Ryan & Deci, 2000; Seligman, 1975; see also Brown & Ryan, Chapter 9, this volume). There is also no denying that choice improves the quality of people's lives. It enables people to control their destinies and to come close to getting exactly what they want out of any situation. Choice is essential to autonomy, which is absolutely fundamental to well-being. Healthy people want and need to direct their own lives. And whereas many needs are universal (food, shelter, medical care, social support, education, and so on), much of what people need if they are to flourish is highly individualized. Choice is what enables each person to pursue precisely those objects and activities that best satisfy his or her own preferences within the limits of his or her resources. Any time choice is restricted in some way, there is bound to be someone, somewhere, who is deprived of the opportunity to pursue something of personal value.

And as important as the instrumental value of choice may be, choice reflects another value that might be even more important. Freedom to choose has expressive value. Choice is what enables people to tell the world who they are and what they care about. Every choice a person makes is a testament to his or her autonomy. Almost every social, moral, or political philosopher in the Western tradition since Plato has placed a premium on such autonomy. It is difficult to imagine a single aspect of collective social life that would be recognizable if this commitment to autonomy was abandoned.

There is no denying that choice improves the quality of our lives. But this chapter argues that choice, and with it freedom, autonomy, and self-determination, can become excessive, and that when that happens, freedom can be experienced as a kind of misery-inducing tyranny. Unconstrained freedom leads to paralysis. It is self-determination within significant constraints—within “rules” of some sort—that leads to well-being, to optimal functioning. And the task for a psychology of optimal functioning is to identify which constraints on self-determination are the crucial ones. When people have no choice, life is almost unbearable. As the number of available choices increases, as it has in modern consumer cultures, the autonomy, control, and liberation that variety brings are powerful and seemingly positive. But the fact that some choice is good doesn't necessarily mean that more choice is better. As I will argue, the relation between choice and well-being is nonmonotonic (Grant & Schwartz, 2011). There is a cost to having an overabundance of choice. As the number of choices people face keeps growing, negative aspects of having a multitude of options begin to appear. As the number of choices grows further, the negatives escalate until, ultimately, choice no longer liberates, but instead debilitates.

In this chapter, I examine some of the ways in which increased opportunities for choice, coupled with the goal of getting the “best” out of any choice situation, can reduce well-being.

Choice Overload and Paralysis

The first demonstration that too many choices can induce decision paralysis was provided by Iyengar and Lepper (2000). They reported a series of studies that showed how choice can be “demotivating.” One study was set in a gourmet food store in which the researchers set up a display featuring a line of exotic, high-quality jams. Customers who came by could taste samples, and then were given a coupon for a dollar off if they bought a jar. In one condition of the study, six varieties of the jam were available for tasting. In another, 24 varieties were available. In either case, the entire set of 24 varieties was available for purchase. The large array of jams attracted more people to the table than the small array. When it came to buying, however, 30% of people exposed to the small array of jams actually bought a jar; only 3% of those exposed to the large array of jams did so.

In a second study, this time in the laboratory, college students were asked to evaluate a variety of gourmet chocolates (6 for some participants and 30 for others). The students were then asked which chocolate—based on description and appearance—they would choose for themselves. They then tasted and rated that chocolate. Finally, in a different room, the students were offered a small box of the chocolates in lieu of cash as payment for their participation. The key results of this study were that the students faced with the small array were more satisfied with their tasting than those faced with the large array. In addition, they were four times as likely to choose chocolate rather than cash as compensation for their participation.

Since this initial demonstration, Iyengar (with various collaborators) and others have provided similar evidence from a wide variety of different domains, many of them far more consequential than jams or chocolates (e.g., Botti, & Iyengar, 2004, 2006; Hanoch & Rice, 2006; Hanoch, Rice, Cummings, & Wood, 2009; Iyengar & DeVoe, 2003; Iyengar, Jiang, & Huberman, 2004; Iyengar & Lepper, 1999, 2002). For example, adding mutual fund options to a pension plan menu decreases rate of participation (Iyengar et al., 2004). Participation rate drops 2% for every 10 options, even though by failing to participate employees often pass up significant amounts of matching money from their employers. Though there are no doubt limits to the choice overload phenomenon that remain to be determined, and conditions under which it does not seem to hold (Chernev, 2003; Scheibehenne, Greifeneder, & Todd, 2009), it now seems clear that under a broad range of circumstances, people find a large number of options paralyzing rather than liberating.

The Goals of Choice: Maximizing and Satisficing

Half a century ago, Simon (1955–1957) argued that in choice situations individuals will often “satisfice,” that is, choose the first option that surpasses some absolute threshold of acceptability, rather than attempt to “optimize” and find the best possible choice. Such a satisficing strategy was thought to make manageable the otherwise overwhelming task of evaluating options in terms of every possible piece of information that could potentially be known about each of them. Rather than attempt to engage in an exhaustive and ultimately limitless search for complete information regarding a particular choice, satisficers would simply end their search as soon as an option was found that exceeded some criterion.

Such a strategy makes good sense in a world of ever-increasing freedom of choice. However, many would argue that attendant with increased choice has been a pressure to “maximize,” that is, to seek the very best option available in a wide range of choice domains. And it may well be the case that, for certain individuals, adding more choices to an existing domain simply makes their lives more difficult because they feel pressure to choose the “best” possible option from an overwhelming array of choices rather than simply settle for “good enough.” After all, as the number of choices in a domain increases, so too does the cognitive work required to compare various options, along with the possibility of making a “wrong” or suboptimal choice. Thus, if one follows such a maximizing strategy, the more choices one faces, the greater the potential to experience regret at having chosen suboptimally.

We undertook an investigation to determine whether in fact there are individual differences in the tendency to maximize, and, if so, if maximizers are more unhappy than their satisficing peers (Schwartz et al., 2002). We designed a survey instrument, the Maximization Scale, to identify both maximizers and satisficers, and then examined the potential relation between scores on the scale and a range of psychological correlates, including happiness, depression, optimism, self-esteem, perfectionism, neuroticism, and subjective well-being. We also explored whether these putative relationships might be mediated by a tendency for maximizers to experience more regret with regard to their choices than satisficers. Finally, we examined maximizers' versus satisficers' tendency to engage in social comparison. We reasoned that if maximizers are always on the lookout for the best possible option, one way to do so is to examine the choices of others, especially in domains in which no clear objective standard exists for what constitutes “the best” (Festinger, 1954).

The Maximization Scale includes 13 items that assess a range of attitudes and behaviors that together comprise a tendency to maximize rather than satisfice (for an abbreviated scale with good psychometric properties, see Nenkov, Morrin, Schwartz, Ward, & Hulland, 2008). Thus, respondents are asked to endorse statements reflecting (a) the adoption of high standards (e.g., “No matter what I do, I have the highest standards for myself”); (b) actions that are consistent with maximizing tendencies (“When I am in the car listening to the radio, I often check other stations to see if something better is playing, even if I'm relatively satisfied with what I'm listening to”); and (c) choice behaviors aimed at seeking out the “best” option (“Renting videos is really difficult. I'm always struggling to pick the best one”). We administered the survey to over 1,700 participants in the United States and Canada who ranged in age from 16 to 81 and came from diverse ethnic backgrounds.

Different subsamples of our respondents also completed a number of other standard personality measures. Among these were the Subjective Happiness Scale (Lyubomirsky & Lepper, 1999; n = 1627); the Beck Depression Inventory (BDI; Beck & Beck, 1972; n = 1006); a measure of dispositional optimism (Life Orientation Test; Scheier & Carver, 1985; n = 182); a neuroticism scale (John, Donahue, & Kentle, 1991; n = 100); a survey assessing subjective well-being (Satisfaction With Life Scale; Diener, Emmons, Larsen, & Griffin, 1985; n = 100); a self-esteem measure (Rosenberg, 1965; n = 266); and a subscale of the Multidimensional Perfectionism Scale (Hewitt & Flett, 1990, 1991; n = 220). Finally, we created a five-item scale designed to assess a tendency to experience regret (e.g., “When I think about how I'm doing in life, I often assess opportunities I have passed up”) and administered it to all of our participants.

In terms of self-reported happiness, there was a clear tendency for maximizers to report being significantly less happy and optimistic than satisficers. They were also less likely to report high subjective well-being scores and were more likely to be depressed. Indeed, in one subsample, of the individuals whose BDI scores met the diagnostic criterion for mild depression, 44% also scored in the top quartile for maximization whereas only 16% scored in the bottom quartile. Maximizers also reported lower self-esteem scores and higher neuroticism scores than satisficers, although the latter relationship did not reach statistical significance in our sample, suggesting discriminant validity between the constructs of maximization and neuroticism. In addition, although we observed mildly significant correlations between maximizing and the related construct of perfectionism, the latter correlated positively with happiness in our sample, suggesting that, unlike maximizing, perfectionist tendencies are not necessarily associated with unhappiness. Finally, those who scored high on the Maximization Scale were also much more likely to report experiencing regret.

Statistical analyses showed that individuals' endorsement of the regret items appeared to at least partially mediate many of the relationships between maximizing and the other personality measures, including maximizers' tendency to be less happy and more depressed. It would seem that maximization constitutes a recipe for unhappiness, in that those individuals who search for the best possible option are more likely to regret a choice once made.

In a subsequent study (Schwartz et al., 2002, Study 4), the hypothesized tendency of maximizers to experience greater sensitivity to regret was investigated in a behavioral paradigm that made use of a version of the “ultimatum game” (Zeelenberg & Beattie, 1997). In the study, individuals had the opportunity to propose a division of funds to a second player (simulated by a computer) who could choose to accept or reject the offer. If the offer was accepted, the funds would be divided up as proposed. If the second player rejected the offer, however, neither player would receive any money. Participants played both a standard version of the game and a modified version, in which, after offering a division of funds, they got to learn the other player's “reservation price,” that is, the minimal offer that the other player would have accepted. In short, this modified version created a greater potential for regret of one's offer, for it carried the possibility of learning that one would not have had to be so generous in dividing up the provided funds.

As predicted, in the modified version (i.e., when participants expected to learn the other player's reservation price) maximizers made much more modest offers to their opponents than in the condition in which a participant never had to face the knowledge that a more meager offer would have been accepted. Satisficers did not show this pattern. It would seem that maximizers' greater tendency to experience regret extends to situations involving anticipated regret as well, as their behaviors in this study appeared to be aimed at minimizing the possibility of later regret.

Maximizers were also hypothesized to engage in more social comparison than satisficers—especially upward comparison, in which an individual compares him or herself to someone who is better off, as such a person would presumably provide the best “evidence” that a maximizer has not yet achieved an optimal outcome. Such a tendency was investigated in two studies. In the first (Schwartz et al., 2002, Study 2), maximizers reported on a questionnaire measure that they were more likely to engage in social comparison—both upward and downward—than satisficers, and their greater frequency of upward comparison was associated with increased unhappiness (though their greater frequency of downward comparison did not predict enhanced happiness). The same study also probed respondents' experiences with consumer decisions and found that maximizers reported seeking more social comparison information in making purchases than did satisficers. They also reported engaging in more product comparisons and counterfactual thinking (thinking about alternatives not chosen) regarding buying decisions, along with heightened regret and diminished happiness with their purchases.

A second study (Schwartz et al., 2002, Study 3) examined social comparison tendencies in maximizers versus satisficers using a procedure developed by Lyubomirsky and Ross (1997). In the study, participants performed an anagram-solving task either much slower or much faster than a confederate posing as a fellow undergraduate. Maximizers were heavily affected by their peer's performance, especially when they were outperformed by the peer. They provided higher assessments of their ability to perform the task after working alongside a slower peer than a faster peer, and in the latter condition, their self-assessment declined and their negative affect increased significantly. Satisficers, by contrast, were barely affected by the performance of the other participant, and regardless of whether the situation provided an opportunity for downward comparison (i.e., outperforming a peer) or upward comparison (i.e., being outperformed by a peer), their assessment of their own ability and their affect level remained largely unaffected. In short, maximizers were sensitive to social comparison information and were made less happy when outperformed by a peer; satisficers showed little response to the social comparison information provided by the experimental situation, and their mood remained relatively stable throughout the study.

In a later study, Iyengar, Wells, and Schwartz (2006) tracked college seniors at 15 different colleges and universities as they looked for postgraduation jobs. The seniors had all filled out the Maximization Scale. The study found that people who scored high on the Maximization Scale got better jobs than people who scored low (measured by starting salary), but on a large battery of psychological outcome measures, they felt worse about the job they got, about the entire job search process, and about their lives in general. So being a maximizer seems to enable people to do better when they make a decision, but to feel worse about how well they did.

In sum, in both survey and experimental procedures, maximizers showed themselves to be less happy and more depressed than satisficers. They were more prone to regret, both experienced and anticipated, and they engaged in more social comparison, especially upward comparison, than satisficers. In their quest for the best option, they increased their own unhappiness and regretted their choices more than individuals who reported a willingness to settle for “good enough.” For maximizers, “good enough” evidently was not, but, at least in terms of their own subjective well-being, “the best” was far from ideal.

There is a caveat to this generalization, however. In a recent study of European, North American, and Chinese adults, Roets, Schwartz, and Guan (2012) found that scores on the Maximization Scale did not differ across the different cultures, but that unlike Europeans and North Americans, Chinese participants showed no relation between maximizing score and measures of well-being. Roets et al. (2012) speculated that the Chinese participants cared about the “best” just as much as Westerners did, but that as residents of a collectivist society, the stakes involved in finding the best were lower for the Chinese than for Westerners. For the Chinese, it was suggested, the choices one made were not reflections of identity—of who one was (see Iyengar & DeVoe, 2003; Iyengar & Lepper, 1999; 2002; Markus & Kitayama, 1991; Markus & Schwartz, 2010; Savani, Markus, Naidu, Kumar, & Berlia, 2010; Schwartz, 2000, 2009, 2012; Schwartz, Markus, & Snibbe, 2006; Snibbe & Markus, 2005), whereas for Westerners, choices were a reflection of identity.

Choice and Well-Being: Why People Suffer

I have suggested that several factors conspire to undermine the objective benefits that ought to come with increased choice. I will review them, and in each case, I'll show why the choice problem is exacerbated for maximizers (see Schwartz, 2004, for more detailed discussion).

Regret

As I indicated, research showed that regret mediated the relation between maximizing and various measures of life satisfaction. People with high regret scores are less happy, less satisfied with life, less optimistic, and more depressed than those with low regret scores. Studies also found that people with high regret scores tend to be maximizers. Indeed, concern about regret may be a major reason why individuals are maximizers. The only way to be sure that you won't regret a decision is by making the best possible decision. And the more options you have, the more likely it is that you will experience regret.

Post-decision regret, sometimes referred to as buyer's remorse, induces second thoughts that rejected alternatives were actually better than the one chosen, or that there are better alternatives out there that haven't been explored. The bitter taste of regret detracts from satisfaction, whether or not the regret is justified. Anticipated regret may be even more debilitating because it will produce not only dissatisfaction but also paralysis. If someone asks him- or herself how it would feel to buy this house only to discover a better one next week, the person probably won't buy this house. Both types of regret—anticipated and postdecision—will raise the emotional stakes of decisions (Bell, 1982; Loomes & Sugden, 1982). Anticipated regret will make decisions harder to make and postdecision regret will make them harder to enjoy (see Gilovich & Medvec, 1995 and Landman, 1993, for thoughtful discussions of the determinants and consequences of regret).

Two of the factors affecting regret are personal responsibility for the result and how easily an individual can imagine a counterfactual, better alternative. The availability of many options exacerbates both of these factors. When there are no options, you can experience disappointment, but not regret. When you have only a few options, you do the best you can, but the world may simply not allow you to do as well as you would like. When there are many options, the chances increase that there is a really good one out there, and you feel that you ought to be able to find it. When the option you actually settle on proves disappointing, you regret not having chosen more wisely. And as the number of options continues to proliferate, making an exhaustive investigation of the possibilities impossible, concern that there may be a better option out there may induce you to anticipate the regret you will feel later on, when that option is discovered, and thus prevent you from making a decision at all. Landman (1993) sums it up this way: “Regret may threaten decisions with multiple attractive alternatives more than decisions offering only one or a more limited set of alternatives … Ironically, then, the greater the number of appealing choices, the greater the opportunity for regret” (p. 184).

It should be clear that the problem of regret will loom larger for maximizers than for satisficers. No matter how good something is, if a maximizer discovers something better, he or she will regret having failed to choose it in the first place. Perfection is the only weapon against regret, and endless, exhaustive, paralyzing consideration of the alternatives is the only way to achieve perfection. For a satisficer, the stakes are lower. The possibility of regret doesn't loom as large, and perfection is unnecessary.

And what makes the problem of regret much worse is that thinking is not restricted to objective reality. People can also think about states of affairs that don't exist. Studies of such counterfactual thinking have found that most individuals do not often engage in this process spontaneously. Instead, counterfactual thinking is usually triggered by the occurrence of something that itself produces a negative emotion. Counterfactual thoughts are generated in response to poor exam grades, to trouble in romantic relationships, and to the illness or death of loved ones. And when the counterfactual thoughts begin to occur, they trigger more negative emotions, like regret, which in turn trigger more counterfactual thinking, which in turn triggers more negative emotion. When they examine the actual content of counterfactual thinking, researchers find that individuals tend to focus on aspects of a situation that are under their control. The fact that counterfactual thinking seems to home in on the controllable aspects of a situation only increases the chances that the emotion a person experiences when engaging in counterfactual thinking will be regret (see Roese, 1997).

Missed Opportunities

Economists point out that the quality of any given option cannot be assessed in isolation from its alternatives. One of the “costs” of any option involves passing up the opportunities that a different option would have afforded. Every choice we make has missed opportunities associated with it.

According to standard economic assumptions, the only missed opportunities that should figure into a decision are the ones associated with the next best alternative, because you wouldn't have chosen the third, fourth, or nth best alternative in any event. This advice, however, is extremely difficult to follow. The options under consideration usually have multiple features. If people think about options in terms of their features rather than as a whole, different options may rank as second best (or even best) with respect to each individual feature. Even though there may be a single, second-best option overall, each of the options may have some very desirable feature on which it beats its competition.

If we assume that missed opportunities take away from the overall desirability of the most preferred option, and that we will feel these missed opportunities associated with many of the options we reject, then the more alternatives there are from which to choose, the greater our experience of the missed opportunities will be. And the greater our experience of the missed opportunities, the less satisfaction we will derive from our chosen alternative.

This form of dissatisfaction was confirmed by a study in which people were asked how much they would be willing to pay for a flight to a weekend getaway, or subscriptions to popular magazines, or to purchase videotapes of popular movies (Brenner, Rottenstreich, & Sood, 1999). Some were asked about individual destinations, magazines, or videos. Others were asked about these same destinations, magazines, or videos as part of a group with other destinations, magazines, or videos. In almost every case, respondents placed a higher value on the flight, the magazine, or the video when they were evaluating it in isolation than when they were evaluating it as part of a cluster. When magazines are evaluated as part of a group, missed opportunities associated with the other options reduce the value of each of them.

Effects of Adaptation

As Kahneman and various collaborators have shown (e.g., Kahneman, 1999), we appear to possess hedonic “thermometers” that run from negative (unpleasant), through neutral, to positive. When we experience something good, our pleasure “temperature” goes up, and when we experience something bad, it goes down. However, our responses to hedonic stimuli are not constant; repeated exposure results in adaptation (Frederick & Loewenstein, 1999).

In what is perhaps the most famous example of hedonic adaptation, respondents were asked to rate their happiness on a 5-point scale (Brickman, Coates, & Janoff-Bulman, 1978). Some of them had won between $50,000 and $1 million in state lotteries within the past year. Others had become paraplegic or quadriplegic as a result of accidents. Not surprisingly, the lottery winners were happier than those who had become paralyzed. What is surprising, though, is that after a few months, the lottery winners were no happier than people in general. And what is even more surprising is that the accident victims, although somewhat less happy than people in general, still judged themselves to be happy.

Though hedonic adaptation is almost ubiquitous, people don't expect it (Loewenstein & Schkade, 1999; see Schwartz & Sommers, 2013, for a recent discussion). Thus, the ultimate result of adaptation to positive experiences appears to be disappointment. And faced with this inevitable disappointment, people will be driven to pursue novelty, to seek out new commodities and experiences for which the pleasure potential has not been dissipated by repeated exposure. In time, these new commodities also will lose their intensity, but people still get caught up in the chase, a process that Brickman and Campbell (1971) labeled the “hedonic treadmill.” Perhaps even more insidious than the hedonic treadmill is something that Kahneman (1999) called the “satisfaction treadmill,” which refers to the possibility that in addition to adapting to particular objects or experiences, people also adapt to particular levels of satisfaction.

The relevance of adaptation to the proliferation of choice is this: Imagine the search costs involved in a decision as being “amortized” over the life of a decision. They may be very high in a world of overwhelming choice (especially for a maximizer), but if the results of the choice produce a long and sustained period of substantial satisfaction, their cumulative effects will be minimized. (The costs, in money and inconvenience, of painting your house may be substantial, but if you stay there for 10 years, enjoying the benefits, those costs will dissolve into insignificance.) If, however, the satisfaction with a decision is short-lived because of adaptation (you get a job transfer and have to move 2 months after having painted your house), then the “amortization schedule” will be very much abbreviated and the initial costs will subtract much more from the total satisfaction.

Social Comparison

Of all the sources we rely on when we evaluate experiences, perhaps nothing is more important than comparisons to other people. In many ways, social comparison parallels the counterfactual thinking process, but there is one very important difference. In principle, people have a great deal of control both over when they will engage in counterfactual thinking and what its content will be. People have less control over social comparison. There is always information available about how others are doing.

Though social comparison information is seemingly all-pervasive, it appears that not everyone pays attention to it, or at least, not everyone is affected by it. Lyubomirsky and colleagues (e.g., Lyubomirsky & Ross, 1997, 1999; Lyubomirsky, Tucker, & Kasri, 2001) conducted a series of studies that looked for differences among individuals in their responses to social comparison information, and what they found is that social comparison information had relatively little impact on dispositionally happy people. Happy people were only minimally affected by whether the person working next to them was better or worse at an anagram task than they were. In contrast, unhappy people showed increases in assessed ability and positive feelings after working beside a slower peer, and decreases in assessed ability and positive feelings if they'd been working beside a faster peer.

Such results parallel the findings we reported regarding maximizers, who seem more sensitive than satisficers to the behavior of others as a gauge of their own progress in obtaining “the best.” Maximizers want the best, but how do you know that you have the best, except by comparison? And to the extent that we have more options, determining the “best” can become overwhelmingly difficult. The maximizer becomes a slave in his or her judgments to the experiences and judgments of other people. Satisficers don't have this problem. Satisficers can rely on their own internal assessments to develop those standards.

High Expectations

When people evaluate an experience, they are performing one or more of the following comparisons (see Michalos, 1980, 1986):

  • Comparing the experience to what they hoped it would be.
  • Comparing the experience to what they expected it to be.
  • Comparing the experience to other experiences they have had in the recent past.
  • Comparing the experience to experiences that others have had.

As material and social circumstances improve, standards of comparison go up. As people have contact with items of high quality, they begin to suffer from “the curse of discernment.” The lower-quality items that used to be perfectly acceptable are no longer good enough. The hedonic zero-point keeps rising, and expectations and aspirations rise with it. As a result, the rising quality of experience is met with rising expectations, and people are just running in place. As long as expectations keep pace with realizations, people may live better, but they won't feel better about how they live.

Large choice sets can have similar effects. If there are two or three styles of jeans to choose from, one's expectations about how well a pair of jeans will fit will be modest. The chosen pair may not fit that well, but one can reasonably only expect so much with such a small choice set. However, if there are dozens of styles to choose from, it seems inevitable that expectations about quality of fit will rise. Large choice sets will indeed enable people to find better-fitting jeans than small choice sets, but if expectations have risen along with the size of the choice set, a good fit will bring no more satisfaction, and may bring less, than a mediocre fit.

Self-Blame

There is one more effect of large choice sets on satisfaction that should be discussed. Suppose one devotes a great deal of time and energy to making a decision, and then, because of some combination of regret, missed opportunities, and high expectations, one ends up disappointed with the results. The questions this person might ask are, “Why?” or “What went wrong?” or “Whose fault is it?” And what is the likely answer to these questions? When the choice set is small, it seems natural and straightforward to blame the world for disappointing results. “They only had three styles of jeans. What could I do? I did the best I could.” However, when the choice set is large, blaming the world is a much less plausible option. “With so many options available, success was out there to be had. I have only myself to blame for a disappointing result.” In other words, self-blame for disappointing results becomes more likely as the choice set grows larger. And because large choice sets increase the chances of disappointing results (because of regret, missed opportunities, and raised expectations), self-blame becomes a more common occurrence.

Learned Helplessness, Control, Depression, and Self-Blame

About 45 years ago, Seligman proposed that clinical depression may be the result of lack of control or learned helplessness (see Maier & Seligman, 1976; Overmier & Seligman, 1967; Seligman, 1975; Seligman & Maier, 1967). The theory was subsequently modified by Abramson, Seligman, and Teasdale (1978), who suggested that important psychological steps intervene between the experience of helplessness and depression. According to the new theory, when people experience a lack of control, they look for causes and display a variety of predispositions to accept certain types of causes, quite apart from what the actual cause of the failure might be. There are three key dimensions to these predispositions, based on whether people view causes as being global or specific, chronic or transient (or what was labeled “stable versus unstable”) or personal or universal (or “internal versus external”). The revised theory of helplessness and depression argued that helplessness induced by failure or lack of control leads to depression if a person's causal explanations for that failure are global, chronic, and personal. It is only then that people will have good reason to expect one failure to be followed by others.

Tests of this revised theory have yielded impressive results (e.g., Peterson & Seligman, 1984). People do differ in the types of predispositions for causal attributions they display. People who find chronic causes for failure expect failures to persist. People who find global causes for failure expect failure to follow them into every area of life. And people who find personal causes for failure suffer large losses in self-esteem.

Owing to the explosion of choice available in modern, affluent societies, many people now experience control and personal autonomy to a degree that people living in other times and places would find unimaginable. This fact, coupled with the helplessness theory of depression, might suggest that clinical depression in the developed world should be disappearing. Instead, we see explosive growth in the disorder. Furthermore, depression seems to attack its victims at a younger age now than in earlier eras. Current estimates are that as many as 7.5% of Americans have an episode of clinical depression before they are 14. This is twice the rate seen in young people born only 10 years earlier (Angst, 1995; Klerman et al., 1985; Klerman & Weissman, 1989; Lane, 2000; Myers, 2000). And the most extreme manifestation of depression—suicide—is also on the rise, and it, too, is happening younger. Suicide is the second leading cause of death (after accidents) among American high school and college students. In the past 45 years, the suicide rate among American college students has tripled. Throughout the developed world, suicide among adolescents and young adults is increasing dramatically (Eckersley, 2002; Eckersley & Dear, 2002). In an era of ever greater personal autonomy and control, what could account for this degree of personal misery?

I think there are several answers to this question. First, I believe that increases in experienced control over the years have been accompanied, stride-for-stride, by increases in expectations about control. The more we are allowed to be the masters of our fates, the more we expect to be. Emphasis on freedom of choice, together with the proliferation of possibilities that modern life affords, have contributed to these unrealistic expectations. Along with the pervasive rise in expectations, Western culture also has become more individualistic than it was, perhaps as a by-product of the desire to have control over every aspect of life. Heightened individualism means that not only do people expect perfection in all things, but they also expect to produce this perfection themselves. When they (inevitably) fail, the culture of individualism biases people toward causal explanations that focus on personal rather than universal factors. That is, the culture has established a kind of officially acceptable style of causal explanation, and it is one that encourages the individual to blame him- or herself for failure (see Weiner, 1985).

Unrealistically high expectations coupled with a tendency to take intense personal responsibility for failure make a lethal combination. And this problem is especially acute for maximizers. As they do with missed opportunities, regret, adaptation, and social comparison, maximizers will suffer more from high expectations and self-blame than will satisficers. Maximizers will put the most work into their decisions, and have the highest expectations about the results of those decisions, and thus will be the most disappointed.

Our research suggests that maximizers are prime candidates for depression (Schwartz et al., 2002). With group after group of people, varying in age, gender, educational level, geographical location, race, and socioeconomic status, we have found a strong positive relation between maximizing and measures of depression. Among people who score highest on our Maximization Scale, scores on the standard measure of depression are in the borderline clinical range. High expectations, and personal attributions for failing to meet them, can apply to educational decisions, career decisions, and marital decisions just as they apply to decisions about what clothes to buy or where to eat dinner. And even the trivial decisions add up. If the experience of disappointment is relentless, if virtually every choice you make fails to live up to expectations and aspirations, and if you consistently take personal responsibility for the disappointments, then the trivial looms larger and larger, and the conclusion that you can't do anything right becomes devastating.

“Freedom,” “Choice,” “Autonomy,” and the “Self”

Virtually all of the empirical evidence on choice overload and its effects comes from contexts in which people are choosing goods. In consumer societies, the importance of contexts like these should not be dismissed. Yet, they seem to pale to insignificance when compared with decisions involving core aspects of one's identity and mode of being in the world. “What should I buy?” doesn't amount to much when compared with “What should I do with my life?” or “Who should I be?” Moreover, it is in connection with these identity-shaping decisions that the benefits of freedom and autonomy (i.e., choice) loom largest. And there is little doubt, as I have previously argued (Schwartz, 2000, 2004), that freedom of choice in these self-defining domains has expanded along with freedom of choice in the world of goods. Young people find themselves with relatively unconstrained choices when it comes to where they live, what they study, what kind of work they do, what religion they practice and how they practice it, what kind of intimate relations they will enter into, and what kind of family commitments they will make. People are free to decide matters of identity, of who they will be in the world. They are no longer stuck with identities they inherit from family and community. And having made the decision about who they are, people are also free to change it (see Gilbert & Ebert, 2002, for evidence that reversibility of decisions decreases people's satisfaction with them).

One plausible view of the modern explosion of choice is that although it does produce the negative effects I have described in the world of goods, it also produces significant positive effects with respect to the things that really matter. No longer are people “stuck” with the identities and life paths that accidents of birth, or the views of others, have imposed on them. Self-invention and reinvention are now very real possibilities. And occasional paralysis in the cereal aisle of the supermarket is a small price to pay for this kind of liberation. As I say, this is a plausible view. Nonetheless, I think, as Durkheim (1897/1951) foresaw, it is mistaken. In the admittedly speculative discussion that follows, I will try to justify this belief.

Taylor (1989, 1992a, 1992b) points out that over the past 500 years, self-understanding has been moving in a more or less straight line from “outside-in,” through participation in larger entities (the divine order, the “great chain of being,” nation, community, family, etc.) to “inside-out,” with purpose discovered from within each individual, and the notion of “authentic” self-expression as the supreme aspiration. We in the West have seen this evolution as progress, each step enhancing freedom. And like fish that don't know they live in water, we find it hard to imagine thinking about our lives in any other way. But Markus and collaborators (e.g., Markus & Kitayama, 1991), in research on East and South Asian versus Western cultures, has shown that this movement from “outside-in” to “inside-out” is not universal: Most East and South Asians still define themselves in terms of their relations to others (and some of Markus's most recent research suggests that this “inside-out” view may be limited to the West's educated elite; see Markus & Schwartz, 2010; Schwartz, Markus, & Snibbe, 2006; Snibbe & Markus, 2005). Further, choice does not have the same significance for East or South Asians as it seems to have for Westerners (Iyengar & Devoe, 2003; Iyengar & Lepper, 1999; Kitayama, Snibbe, Markus, & Suzuki, 2004; Savani et al., 2010; see also Markus & Schwartz, 2010). This research does not challenge the notion that within Western culture more freedom—more “inside-out”—is better. But the Iyengar and Lepper (2000) “jam study” and its companions suggest that perhaps more “inside-out” is not better, and that it is not all just a matter of cultural preferences. Asians may know something that Westerners have forgotten.

Consistent with this possibility, there is good evidence from recent research on well-being—again, affirming Durkheim—that the most significant determinant of our well-being is our network of close relationships with other people (e.g., Diener, 2000; Diener & Biswas-Diener, 2008; Diener, Diener, & Diener, 1995; Diener, & Suh, 2001; Diener, Suh, Lucas, & Smith, 1999; Lane, 2000; Myers, 2000). The more connected we are, the better off we are. The thing to notice about close relationships, in connection with freedom, choice, and autonomy, is that close relationships generally constrain, they do not liberate. When people have responsibilities for and concerns about other people, they often cannot just do anything they might otherwise choose to do. Until now, the thought has been that this constraint is perhaps just a price worth paying for rich social ties. What the choice overload research suggests is that in modern society, with overwhelming choice in every aspect of life, the constraints of close relationships with others may actually be part of the benefit of those relations rather than being a cost. And like close relationships with others, “outside-in” definitions of the self provide significant constraints on what is possible, constraints that, in modern Western societies, may be desperately needed.

What is the evidence that modern Westerners are suffering from this lack of constraint? As previously mentioned, there has been a significant rise in the incidence of clinical depression and suicide, both of which are befalling people at younger and younger ages (e.g., Angst, 1995; Eckersley, 2002; Eckersley & Dear, 2002; Klerman et al., 1985; Klerman & Weissman, 1989; Lane, 2000; Myers, 2000). Second, there is a substantial increase in the rate at which college students are flocking to counseling centers (Kadison & DiGeronimo, 2004). Third, there is a palpable unease in the reports of young college graduates, who seem to lack a clear idea of what they are meant to do in their lives (Robbins & Wilner, 2001). And finally, among upper-class adolescents whose family affluence makes anything possible, there are the same levels of drug abuse, anxiety disorder, and depression as there are in the children of the poor (Luthar & Latendresse, 2005). Further, there is reason to believe that whereas the poor take drugs “recreationally,” the rich do so to self-medicate (Luthar & Latendresse, 2005).

Conclusion: Freedom From and Freedom To

I have tried to argue that, whereas there is no denying that choice is good, it is not always and only good. Further, the relation between choice and freedom is complex. Though one cannot be free without choice, it is arguable that choice-induced paralysis is a sign of diminished rather than enhanced freedom.

Though public policy interventions can do a good deal to minimize the negative effects of choice overload (e.g., Thaler & Sunstein, 2008), it seems to me that the best route to eliminating some of the negative effects of choice overload without also eliminating the liberating effects of choice is not through public policy, but through a change in awareness, sensibility, and aspiration on the part of individuals. If people can come to see that sometimes unfettered choice is paralyzing, whereas constrained choice may be liberating, they may seek and embrace constraints in their own lives instead of avoiding them. I have suggested elsewhere that perhaps the best model we have for the importance of constraints for freedom comes from our understanding of human language abilities (Schwartz, 2000). The capacity to use language may be the single most liberating characteristic of human beings. It frees people up in significant ways from the temporal and material limitations that afflict other organisms. People can say anything about any thing, any time, or any place—even things, times, and places that have never existed. And they can be understood. So language is probably as vivid an embodiment of human freedom and autonomy as anything. But what decades of research on language ability have made clear is that the thing that makes the liberating features of language possible is that language is heavily constrained by rules. The reason people can say anything and be understood is that they cannot say anything in any way they want. It is linguistic constraint, in the form of these rules, that makes linguistic freedom possible. What I have suggested in this chapter is that exactly the same thing may be true in connection with the determination of the self. Unconstrained freedom leads to paralysis and becomes a kind of self-defeating tyranny. It is freedom of choice within significant constraints—within “rules” of some sort—that leads to well-being, to optimal functioning. And a significant task for psychology is to identify which constraints on self-determination are the crucial ones.

Future Research

We have only begun to investigate in a systematic fashion the behavior of so-called maximizers versus satisficers. Future research will help determine the domain specificity of maximizing behaviors. Clearly no one pursues “the best” in every arena of life, and what distinguishes maximizers from satisficers may ultimately be the number of domains in which an individual attempts to obtain something that is optimal as opposed to merely acceptable. In addition, future studies will determine whether maximizers sometimes engage in behavior that looks similar to that of satisficers but reflects different motives. For example, if a maximizer is aware of his or her tendency to engage in an exhaustive, time-consuming, and ultimately disappointing search for the most attractive option, he or she may on occasion opt to restrict a choice set by simply selecting the first acceptable option available. In other words, there may be occasions in which maximizers “choose not to choose” rather than endure the misery and paralysis that can often follow their attempts to maximize. Such speculation, of course, implies that maximizers are aware of the negative psychological consequences that typically accompany their behavior, and that, in and of itself (i.e., whether maximizers know that there is a psychological cost to be paid for their habitual “quest for the best”) is worthy of further study.

Finally, additional research should investigate the origins of a maximizing versus satisficing style of choice behavior. I have speculated on the cultural pressures in a postindustrial capitalist society that might lead to the development of maximizing tendencies, especially in times of plenty (see Schwartz, 1994; and Wieczorkowska & Burnstein, 1999, for further discussion). And although at times maximizing may produce superior material outcomes (a question worth pursuing in its own right), I believe that such a strategy leads individuals to inferior psychological outcomes. I should acknowledge, though, that the causal arrow may point in the opposite direction; that is, unhappy or depressed individuals may resort to a maximizing strategy in an attempt to improve their current psychological state. Regardless of the causal direction, however, a strategy of continually searching for the best option and then regretting one's choices does not appear to be a recipe for long-term happiness.

Summary Points

  • Choice is good, but there can be too much of a good thing.
  • Too many choices lead to paralysis and dissatisfaction, rather than liberation.
  • The choice problem is especially acute for people who try to get the best—to maximize rather than satisfice.
  • Maximizers may make better decisions than satisficers, but they feel worse about them.
  • Among the impediments to satisfying decisions brought on by too much choice and maximizing are regret, the pain of missed opportunities, the creation of unrealistically high expectations, and self-blame for any decisions that fall short.
  • The choice overload and maximizing problems may be a special affliction of people living in Western societies.
  • Though policy initiatives can operate to minimize the negative effects of choice overload, they contain the danger that they will simultaneously undermine the positive effects of freedom of choice.
  • A more promising approach may be to sensitize people to the costs of choice and the benefits of constraints. People who appreciate the benefits of constraints might seek and embrace the constraints that arise out of membership in a close social network.

References

  1. Abramson, L. Y., Seligman, M. E. P., & Teasdale, J. D. (1978). Learned helplessness in humans: Critique and reformulation. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 87, 49–74.
  2. Angst, J. (1995). The epidemiology of depressive disorders. European Neuropsychopharmacology, 5, 95–98.
  3. Beck, A. T., & Beck, R. W. (1972). Screening depressed patients in a family practice: A rapid technique. Postgraduate Medicine, 52, 81–85.
  4. Bell, D. E. (1982). Regret in decision making under uncertainty. Operations Research, 30, 861–981.
  5. Botti, S., & Iyengar, S. S. (2004). The psychological pleasure and pain of choosing: When people prefer choosing at the cost of subsequent outcome satisfaction. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 87, 312–326.
  6. Botti, S., & Iyengar, S. S. (2006). The dark side of choice: When choice impairs social welfare. Journal of Public Policy and Marketing, 25, 24–38.
  7. Brenner, L., Rottenstreich, Y., & Sood, S. (1999). Comparison, grouping, and preference. Psychological Science, 10, 225–229.
  8. Brickman, P., & Campbell, D. T. (1971). Hedonic relativism and planning the good society. In M. H. Appley (Ed.), Adaptation-level theory: A symposium (pp. 287–302). New York, NY: Academic Press.
  9. Brickman, P., Coates, D., & Janoff-Bulman, R. (1978). Lottery winners and accident victims: Is happiness relative? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 36, 917–927.
  10. Chernev, A. (2003). Product assortment and individual decision processes. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 85, 151–162.
  11. Deci, E. L., & Ryan, R. M. (2000). The “what” and “why” of goal pursuits: Human needs and the self-determination of behavior. Psychological Inquiry, 11, 227–268.
  12. Deci, E. L., & Ryan, R. M. (Eds.) (2002). Handbook of self-determination research. Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press.
  13. Diener, E. (2000). Subjective well-being: The science of happiness and a proposal for a national index. American Psychologist, 55, 34–43.
  14. Diener, E., & Biswas-Diener, R. (2008). Happiness. New York, NY: Blackwell.
  15. Diener, E., Diener, M., & Diener, C. (1995). Factors predicting the subjective well-being of nations. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 69, 851–864.
  16. Diener, E., Emmons, R. A., Larsen, R. J., & Griffin, S. (1985). The Satisfaction With Life Scale. Journal of Personality Assessment, 49, 71–75.
  17. Diener, E., & Suh, E. M. (Eds.) (2001). Subjective well-being across cultures. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
  18. Diener, E., Suh, E. M., Lucas, R. E., & Smith, H. L. (1999). Subjective well-being: Three decades of progress. Psychological Bulletin, 125, 276–302.
  19. Durkheim, E. (1951). Suicide (J. A. Spalding & G. Simpson, Trans.). New York, NY: Free Press. (Original work published 1897)
  20. Eckersley, R. (2002). Culture, health, and well-being. In R. Eckersley, J. Dixon, & B. Douglas (Eds.), The social origins of health and well-being (pp. 51–70). Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
  21. Eckersley, R., & Dear, K. (2002). Cultural correlates of youth suicide. Social Science and Medicine, 55, 1891–1904.
  22. Festinger, L. (1954). A theory of social comparison processes. Human Relations, 7, 114–140.
  23. Frederick, S., & Loewenstein, G. (1999). Hedonic adaptation. In D. Kahneman, E. Diener, & N. Schwarz (Eds.), Well-being: The foundations of hedonic psychology (pp. 302–329). New York, NY: Russell Sage Foundation.
  24. Gilbert, D. T., & Ebert, J. E. J. (2002). Decisions and revisions: The affective forecasting of changeable outcomes. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 82, 503–514.
  25. Gilovich, T., & Medvec, V. H. (1995). The experience of regret: What, when, and why. Psychological Review, 102, 379–395.
  26. Grant, A. M., & Schwartz, B. (2011). Too much of a good thing: The challenge and opportunity of the inverted-U. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 6, 61–76.
  27. Hanoch, Y., & Rice, T. (2006). Can limiting choice increase social welfare? The elderly and health insurance. Milbank Quarterly, 84, 37–73.
  28. Hanoch, Y., Rice, T., Cummings, J., & Wood, S. (2009). How much choice is too much?: The case of the Medicare Prescription Drug Benefit. Health Service Research, 44, 1157–1168.
  29. Hewitt, P. L., & Flett, G. L. (1990). Perfectionism and depression: A multidimensional analysis. Journal of Social Behavior and Personality, 5, 423–438.
  30. Hewitt, P. L., & Flett, G. L. (1991). Perfectionism in the self and social contexts: Conceptualization, assessment, and association with psychopathology. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 60, 456–470.
  31. Iyengar, S. S., & DeVoe, S. E. (2003). Rethinking the value of choice: Considering cultural mediators of intrinsic motivation. In V. Murphy-Berman & J. Berman (Eds.), Cross-cultural differences in perspectives on the self (pp. 129–174). Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.
  32. Iyengar, S. S., Jiang, W., & Huberman, G. (2004). How much choice is too much: Determinants of individual contributions in 401K retirement plans. In O. S. Mitchell & S. Utkus (Eds.), Pension design and structure: New lessons from behavioral finance (pp. 83–95). Oxford, England: Oxford University Press.
  33. Iyengar, S. S., & Lepper, M. (1999). Rethinking the value of choice: A cultural perspective on intrinsic motivation. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 76, 349–366.
  34. Iyengar, S., & Lepper, M. (2000). When choice is demotivating: Can one desire too much of a good thing? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 79, 995–1006.
  35. Iyengar, S. S., & Lepper, M. R. (2002). Choice and its consequences: On the costs and benefits of self-determination. In A. Tesser (Ed.), Self and motivation: Emerging psychological perspectives (pp. 71–96). Washington, DC: American Psychological Association.
  36. Iyengar, S., Wells, R. E., & Schwartz, B. (2006). Doing better but feeling worse: Looking for the “best” job undermines satisfaction. Psychological Science, 17, 143–150.
  37. John, O. P., Donahue, E. M., & Kentle, R. L. (1991). The “big five” inventory—Versions 4a and 54. Technical report. Berkeley, CA: Institute of Personality Assessment and Research.
  38. Kadison, R. D., & DiGeronimo, T. F. (2004). The college of the overwhelmed: The campus mental health crisis and what to do about it. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.
  39. Kahneman, D. (1999). Objective happiness. In D. Kahneman, E. Diener, & N. Schwarz (Eds.), Well-being: The foundations of hedonic psychology (pp. 3–25). New York, NY: Russell Sage Foundation.
  40. Kitayama, S., Snibbe, A. C., Markus, H. R., & Suzuki, T., (2004). Is there any “free” choice? Self and dissonance in two cultures. Psychological Science, 15, 527–533.
  41. Klerman, G. L., Lavori, P. W., Rice, J., Reich, T., Endicott, J., Andreasen, N. C.,…Hirschfeld, R. M. A. (1985). Birth cohort trends in rates of major depressive disorder: A study of relatives of patients with affective disorder. Archives of General Psychiatry, 42, 689–693.
  42. Klerman, G. L., & Weissman, M. M. (1989). Increasing rates of depression. Journal of the American Medical Association, 261, 2229–2235.
  43. Landman, J. (1993). Regret: The persistence of the possible. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
  44. Lane, R. (2000). The loss of happiness in market democracies. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
  45. Loewenstein, G., & Schkade, D. (1999). Wouldn't it be nice? Predicting future feelings. In D. Kahneman, E. Diener, & N. Schwarz (Eds.), Well-being: The foundations of hedonic psychology (pp. 85–108). New York, NY: Russell Sage Foundation.
  46. Loomes, G., & Sugden, R. (1982). Regret theory: An alternative theory of rational choice under uncertainty. Economic Journal, 92, 805–824.
  47. Luthar, S. S., & Latendresse, S. J. (2005). Children of the affluent: Challenges to well-being. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 14, 49–52.
  48. Lyubomirsky, S., & Lepper, H. S. (1999). A measure of subjective happiness: Preliminary reliability and construct validation. Social Indicators Research, 46, 137–155.
  49. Lyubomirsky, S., & Ross, L. (1997). Hedonic consequences of social comparison: A contrast of happy and unhappy people. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 73, 1141–1157.
  50. Lyubomirsky, S., & Ross, L. (1999). Changes in attractiveness of elected, rejected, and precluded alternatives: A comparison of happy and unhappy individuals. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 76, 988–1007.
  51. Lyubomirsky, S., Tucker, K. L., & Kasri, F. (2001). Responses to hedonically-conflicting social comparisons: Comparing happy and unhappy people. European Journal of Social Psychology, 31, 1–25.
  52. Maier, S. F., & Seligman, M. E. P. (1976). Learned helplessness: Theory and evidence. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 105, 3–46.
  53. Markus, H. R., & Kitayama, S. (1991). Culture and the self: Implications for cognition, emotion, and motivation. Psychological Review, 98, 224–253.
  54. Markus, H. R., & Schwartz, B. (2010). Does choice mean freedom and well being? Journal of Consumer Research, 37, 344–355.
  55. Michalos, A. C. (1980). Satisfaction and happiness. Social Indicators Research, 8, 385–422.
  56. Michalos, A. C. (1986). Job satisfaction, marital satisfaction, and the quality of life: A review and a preview. In F. M. Andrews (Ed.), Research on the quality of life (pp. 57–83). Ann Arbor: Institute for Social Research, University of Michigan.
  57. Myers, D. (2000). The American paradox. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
  58. Nenkov, G. Y., Morrin, M., Schwartz, B., Ward, A., & Hulland, J. (2008). A short form of the Maximization Scale: Factor structure, reliability and validity studies. Judgment and Decision Making, 3, 371–388.
  59. Overmier, J. B., & Seligman, M. E. P. (1967). Effects of inescapable shock upon subsequent escape and avoidance behavior. Journal of Comparative and Physiological Psychology, 63, 23–33.
  60. Peterson, C., & Seligman, M. E. P. (1984). Causal explanations as a risk factor for depression: Theory and evidence. Psychological Review, 91, 347–374.
  61. Robbins, A., & Wilner, A. (2001). Quarterlife crisis: The unique challenges of life in your twenties. New York, NY: Putnam.
  62. Roese, N. J. (1997). Counterfactual thinking. Psychological Bulletin, 121, 133–148.
  63. Roets, A., Schwartz, B., & Guan, Y. (2012). The tyranny of choice: A cross-cultural investigation of maximizing-satisficing effects on well-being. Judgment and Decision Making, 7, 689–704.
  64. Rosenberg, M. (1965). Society and the adolescent self-image. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
  65. Ryan, R. M., & Deci, E. L. (2000). Self-determination theory and the facilitation of intrinsic motivation, social development, and well-being. American Psychologist, 55, 68–78.
  66. Savani, K., Markus, H. R., Naidu, N. V. R., Kumar, S., & Berlia, N. (2010). What counts as a choice? U.S. Americans are more likely than Indians to construe actions as choices. Psychological Science, 21, 391–398.
  67. Scheibehenne, B., Greifeneder, R., & Todd, P. M. (2009). What moderates the too-much-choice effect? Psychology & Marketing, 26, 229–253.
  68. Scheier, M. F., & Carver, C. S. (1985). Optimism, coping, and health: Assessment and implications of generalized outcome expectations. Health Psychology, 4, 219–247.
  69. Schwartz, B. (1994). The costs of living: How market freedom erodes the best things in life. New York, NY: Norton.
  70. Schwartz, B. (2000). Self-determination: The tyranny of freedom. American Psychologist, 55, 79–88.
  71. Schwartz, B. (2004). The paradox of choice: Why more is less. New York, NY: Ecco Press.
  72. Schwartz, B. (2009). Be careful what you wish for: The dark side of freedom. In R. M. Arkin, K. C. Oleson, & P. J. Carroll (Eds.), Handbook of the uncertain self: Perspectives from social and personality psychology (pp. 62–77). New York, NY: Psychology Press.
  73. Schwartz, B. (2012). Choice, freedom, and autonomy. In P. R. Shaver & M. Mikulincer (Eds.), Meaning, mortality, and choice: The social psychology of existential concerns (pp. 271–288). Washington, DC: APA Press.
  74. Schwartz, B., Markus, H. R., & Snibbe, A. C. (2006, February 26). Is freedom just another word for many things to buy? New York Times Magazine, 14–15.
  75. Schwartz, B., & Sommers, R. (2013). Affective forecasting and well being. In D. Reisberg (Ed.), Oxford handbook of cognitive psychology (pp. 704–716). New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
  76. Schwartz, B., Ward, A., Monterosso, J., Lyubomirsky, S., White, K., & Lehman, D. R. (2002). Maximizing versus satisficing: Happiness is a matter of choice. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 83, 1178–1197.
  77. Seligman, M. E. P. (1975). Helplessness: On depression, development, and death. San Francisco, CA: W. H. Freeman.
  78. Seligman, M. E. P., & Maier, S. F. (1967). Failure to escape traumatic shock. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 74, 1–9.
  79. Simon, H. A. (1955). A behavioral model of rational choice. Quarterly Journal of Economics, 59, 99–118.
  80. Simon, H. A. (1956). Rational choice and the structure of the environment. Psychological Review, 63, 129–138.
  81. Simon, H. A. (1957). Models of man, social and rational: Mathematical essays on rational human behavior. New York, NY: Wiley.
  82. Snibbe, A. C., & Markus, H. R. (2005). You can't always get what you want: Social class, agency, and choice. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 88, 703–720.
  83. Taylor, C. (1989). Sources of the self. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
  84. Taylor, C. (1992a). The ethics of authenticity. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
  85. Taylor, C. (1992b). Multiculturalism and the “politics of recognition.” Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
  86. Thaler, R. H., & Sunstein, C. R. (2008). Nudge. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
  87. Weiner, B. (1985). An attributional theory of achievement motivation and emotion. Psychological Review, 92, 548–573.
  88. Wieczorkowska, G., & Burnstein, E. (1999). Adapting to the transition from socialism to capitalism in Poland: The role of screening strategies in social change. Psychological Science, 10, 98–105.
  89. Zeelenberg, M., & Beattie, J. (1997). Consequences of regret aversion 2: Additional evidence for effects of feedback on decision making. Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes, 67, 63–78.
..................Content has been hidden....................

You can't read the all page of ebook, please click here login for view all page.
Reset
3.144.18.253