thoughts about solutions v. trade-offs

20-Feb-2025

I used to describe myself as a problem solver. Every problem had some solution—a silver bullet for every monster and a panacea for every ailment. Indubitably, silver bullets must be forged and panaceas brewed, but I never doubted their eventual existence. Solutions came at a predictable cost—uncomfortable conversations, harsh truths—but they always came; or so I thought.

I’ve dedicated many hours of my life to conflict mediation. Between friends and family, I’m a reference point, their counsel answering familiar questions: “What am I missing something?” “What do you think?” and the real question many people care about, “Am I right?” Within my personal relationships, my role is similar. I often take the lead in identifying issues and hypothesizing solutions.¹ For both cases, I refer to simple axioms—be honest, apply Hanlon’s razor, address problems at the earliest appropriate moment, etc. While these principles often yield results, with each passing year, they feel more like rough sketches than precise maps. Answers now come with outward ripples, inducing new complexities with its very implementation. I offer what guidance I can but increasingly recognize that—ordinarily—we are merely choosing between imperfect options.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that perfect solutions are as fictitious as unicorns, but as Thomas Sowell famously declared: “There are no solutions, only trade-offs.”² This is a difficult truth that I’ve recently accepted as my own time and energy have become increasingly finite.

When we are younger, free time is more abundant so problems could be solved at the expense of that “resource.” In that way, the solutions were quite simple. Struggling with 5th grade math? Study more, play less.³ These trade-offs between work and leisure once passed unnoticed, masked by the natural advantages of youth: our seemingly boundless energy meant we could bounce back with minimal rest, our open schedules made free time feel infinite, and our problems were simpler and required less time to solve. Now consider how “solutions” function for a young adult.

Let us name him “Aleksander” and assume that he is living a productive life (that is, he preserves the minimum downtime his mental health requires, but no more). Aleksander encounters a problem—his girlfriend would like to institute a non-negotiable “movie night, every night” (MNEN). He is a cinephobe but also cares for her deeply, so he attempts to make room in his schedule. However, there cannot be a pure addition. If he would like to participate in MNEN, those hours must be redistributed from his other leisure activities.⁴ He chooses to sacrifice the time he spends bowling with his friends after work. Because of this, his social life deteriorates. Aleksander, being a selfless boyfriend, values his girlfriend’s happiness more than his friends’ so he is happy with this outcome. But more problems will eventually arise—perhaps some related to his corroded social life—and the juggling within his schedule will continue.

While hyperbolic, this scenario illustrates the ultimate point: we cannot add to our lives without subtracting something else. Solutions—as we colloquially conceptualize—are too simplistic. There are only trade-offs, which we should constantly assess and make. This reality should be intuitive. In our own lives, there are plenty of “solutions” that we would never-make because the trade-offs are too high.⁵ Yet we often forget this when facing smaller trade-offs, trying to squeeze new commitments into already-full lives.

So when you wish to enrich your life—whether through more reading, exercise, or time with family—first ask yourself: What will I do less of? What space will I clear? Naming only what you want to add, without identifying what you’ll subtract, is a path to frustration. Life offers no perfect solutions—only trade-offs.