Too Much Information

Tom Wolfe, the iconic boomer-era journalist and novelist, has a theory he calls “information compulsion.” He says people have an overwhelming need to tell you something you don’t know, even when it’s not in their best interest.

Now, as Wolfe would tell you, information compulsion has some useful applications. Obviously, journalists would have a hard time surviving without it. And people wouldn’t call them with tips on a good story, agree to be interviewed or offer to be a whistleblower against wrongdoing without information compulsion.

However, this same impulse often comes into play in our daily lives, with negative results. It’s the reason we like to dazzle our friends at dinner parties with the esoterica we know, even when we suspect we may be boring them — or why workers gossip in the company break room, even when they suspect it may get back to the people they’re prattling about. And it’s the reason friends talk in excessive detail about their health, love lives or family problems, even though they close their ears when the tables are turned.

It’s the reason the phrase “too much information” has entered everyday speech. We all have an overwhelming need to display and share what we know. And we do it excessively.

Study the most annoying habits practiced by people you know, and you’ll see many of them rooted in information compulsion. When we add value, pass judgment, make destructive comments, announce we “already knew that” or explain why “that won’t work,” we are compulsively sharing information. We’re convinced we’re educating people or inspiring them to do better.

Yet, more likely, what we’re doing in these circumstances is achieving the exact opposite. Likewise, when we fail to give recognition, claim credit we don’t deserve or refuse to apologize when we’ve made a mistake, we are withholding information. And compulsively sharing and withholding are two sides of the same tarnished coin.

Other habits are rooted in a different kind of compulsion, one that’s centered on emotion. When we get angry, play favorites or punish the messenger, we are succumbing to emotion and displaying it for everyone to see.

Information and emotion: We either share or withhold them.

On its face, there’s nothing wrong with that. The world would be far less interesting, and probably much more dangerous, if we didn’t understand how to share or withhold information and emotion.

At the risk of complicating this with “too much information,” I would add another dimension here. When dealing with information or emotion, we have to consider if what we’re sharing is appropriate.

Appropriate information is anything that unequivocally helps the person you’re addressing. But it veers into inappropriate territory when it goes too far or risks hurting someone. For instance, discussing a rival company’s good fortune can be positive if it gets your people working harder, but it’s inappropriate if it’s intended to soil other people’s reputations.

Also, instruction is usually appropriate — to a point. It’s the difference between someone giving you simple directions to their house versus telling you every wrong turn you can make along the way. Clearly, the former is helpful, and the latter is inappropriate.

The same is true with emotion. Love often is an appropriate emotion, whereas anger often is not appropriate. But if you say “I love you” too much or at the wrong times, it’s inappropriate. Conversely, anger can be useful if it’s parsed out in small doses and at opportune moments.

When sharing or withholding information or emotion, we have to ask whether it’s appropriate and to what extent it should be shared. I realize these are broad generalizations involving delicate subjects. But they give some context to these challenges. We are not lancing deep-rooted psychological “tumors” here, but rather asking blunt questions about basic human behavior.

Is it appropriate? How much information/emotion should I convey?

You can do a lot worse than pause and pose these questions as guidelines before you do or say something important.