Can more mean less?

The other day I was at a restaurant where I happened to be sitting next to a family of four -- parents and two children. The younger child was barely five. The parents offered the children a long list of meal choices ranging from three kinds of pizza, four selections of pasta and the usual burger with or without cheese. I noticed that the five-year-old selected a pasta dish. But, as soon as the food arrived the kid threw a tantrum because he now wanted a burger. I was certain that this would provoke a backlash from the mom, but, instead, she said: “Okay, honey we'll get you a burger.” Since my curiosity was adequately aroused I did what would be otherwise considered improper etiquette. I kept noticing the little guy and saw that he barely nibbled on his food. The parents, however, seemed not to mind that the burger went back to the kitchen, uneaten.
The seemingly innocuous episode illustrates a rather serious underlying problem: the dilemma of a surfeit of choices in modern day living. Almost every facet of consumption -- whether products or services -- is influenced by a vast range and diversity of choices. Surprisingly, even children have been initiated into this “freedom of choice” culture. One would think that the wisdom of making the right choice in life comes with experience. So, why would we burden a child with the task of making an “informed selection” from a restaurant menu containing some 30 items?
The challenge of multiple-choice occurs most frequently in the course of our routine shopping at the supermarket or retail stores. For instance, something as mundane as choosing a breakfast cereal ends up being an intellectual exercise. You may even need a 101 course on nutrition to reach a decision: high fiber content, gluten free, no sugar added, with/or without nuts, vitamins added/not added .... name it and you have it. Whether or not these choices are adding to the overall health and happiness of the population is open to question and may be a topic for a separate write-up.
For the moment I am more intrigued by the broader question of what drives the human urge to choose from a diverse array of products. Is it a utility maximisation issue or is it simply the insatiable consumer instinct for discarding the old and acquiring the new? Whatever the reason, it is like a moving target eluding our grasp. Whether we are transitioning from i-phone 4S to 5 or from the short hemline to the ankle length skirt, there is no end in sight. Each time we believe we are satisfied with an item, expectations need to be recalibrated because there is always something glossier, trendier or technologically savvier on the shelf.
Interestingly, research shows that an excess of choices leads to a lower level of satisfaction because no matter what choice we make, there is a lingering feeling of regret about the road not taken. In addition, too many options confuse the mind and people often end up making the wrong choice or, in extreme cases, are paralysed into inaction.
Some may argue that the human desire for change spurs innovation and invention. As the demand for diversity increases, companies invest more in Research and Development for introducing a variety of products in the market. My view, however, is that choice is more a supply-led phenomenon, driven by sales targets and attempts at alluring unwitting customers!
That notwithstanding, as a consumer of the “choice factory,” I wonder if the obsession with material choices is moving us away from the core elements which contribute to our emotional well-being? Throwaway stuff is easy to acquire and replace, but what about investing time and effort in making choices about the things that uplift us spiritually? Like a family reunion or an evening of art and music with friends, or even a material gift that can be collectively enjoyed with others?
Hoping to get a better grip on the subject, I asked a friend if the freedom to choose from a wide range of items makes her more satisfied and happy. She recalled that the happiest moments of her life were tied to the simple choices that her parents had made for the family. For example, when her dad brought home a gramophone, the family rallied around it and enjoyed the music together. It was not about choosing the best sound system in the market but about the hours of shared music with loved ones.
As my friend's childhood memories reaffirm, the things that really matter in life are the ones that spread love and warmth. Perhaps we can solve the “choice problem” by shifting our focus to the sharing aspect rather than being fixated on optimising personal gratification.

The writer is a renowned Rabindra Sangeet exponent and a former employee of the World bank.