Learned Optimism

In the 1960s, the young researcher Martin Seligman was studying learning in a lab when he stumbled upon a strange result. Dogs that had received mild shocks without being able to do anything to avoid them later found themselves in a situation where they simply had to jump over a low barrier to escape, yet they just lay there, passive, accepting the shock.

The dogs that had not gone through the first phase jumped right away. The others seemed to have learned that nothing they did mattered. Seligman called this phenomenon learned helplessness, and he thought it might be the key to understanding why some people give up in the face of difficulties that others confront head-on.

Both the book and the theory were born from that question. If helplessness is learned, perhaps it can also be unlearned. And if some people hold up better than others, we need to figure out what they are doing differently on the inside.

In human beings, the equivalent shows up in people who go through repeated failures, jobs where none of their effort is recognized, or relationships where every attempt to help goes wrong. Over time, the person stops trying, even when conditions change and success would now be possible.

Think of someone who has sent out two hundred resumes and heard nothing back. On the two hundred and first, he does not even bother writing a cover letter. It is not laziness; it is the learned lesson that nothing works. The book shows that people usually do not give up just because of the blow itself, but because of the explanation they give for it.

Seligman noticed that some people, subjected to the exact same kind of setback, did not fall apart. The difference lay in what they told themselves after the fall. He dedicated the heart of the book to this pattern.

Everyone tells themselves a story about why things happen. Seligman calls the habitual way of doing this your explanatory style, and he argues that it is far more important than the shallow, bumper-sticker optimism of 'just think positive.' What matters is the explanation you give yourself when bad news hits.

Two coworkers get chewed out in the same meeting. One thinks, 'The boss was in a bad mood today.' The other thinks, 'I am incompetent and I always will be.' The fact is the same; the story is not. And it is the story that decides whether tomorrow that person gets up early or stays in bed.

The book presents three dimensions to describe this story: permanence, pervasiveness, and personalization. They form the backbone of the method and are well worth understanding one by one.