NLP: How Are Maps Created?

Maybe you already have a general idea of how this works. After all, many of us have drawn little maps or diagrams for friends. “When you exit the subway, turn left. You’ll see a big red building, go around it to the right—there’s a kiosk there selling all sorts of little things… When you get to the building—it’s the third entrance, black iron door…” As you explain, you draw a picture to make it clearer.

Understanding how maps are made helps us see how we create our own models of the world. This example clearly shows how we solve the problem of modeling the external world. So, how do you make a convenient and understandable map?

Let’s say you take a real object—a city, for example. Of course, it’s easy to say, “Take a city.” But even to make a rough map, you need information. Even at this stage, there can be challenges. Let’s assume you have a great aerial photo. Or even two, but that’s a professional detail. So, you already have a general idea of the city.

Next, you identify the main and secondary elements—buildings, roads, parks, bodies of water. Main means necessary: the ones you’ll use to navigate or look for. Real maps are made for specific needs. A driver needs to know where gas stations and auto shops are, while a plumber cares about manholes. We skip drawing secondary objects—just focus on the main ones.

Among the main elements, you identify types—residential buildings, government offices, cultural centers. The choice of types depends on the map’s purpose. For some, all buildings are the same; for others, like a city architect, there are dozens of types. Once you’ve sorted this out, you need to come up with symbols for each type—legend icons.

By the way, don’t forget to choose a scale. Some objects (like road lengths) will be shown to scale, others just as symbols. The relative positions of the icons should be more or less accurate.

That’s it. Ready to draw? Go ahead, and don’t forget to leave space for the legend so others can use your map too.

By discussing the process of creating a city map, we can highlight the main differences between reality and its map. Beyond the physical (biological) limitations of our senses, we find ways to simplify the world even more. These methods are called: generalization, deletion, and distortion.

Generalization, Deletion, and Distortion: How We Model the World

Generalization

Generalization is the process by which a specific experience comes to represent an entire class of experiences. It’s one of the three universals of human modeling. (NLP Dictionary)

It’s not too much of a generalization to say that generalizations help us live. They help us navigate the world, find common ground with others, look for similarities in different things, and work together. Generalizations let us find traditional answers to standard situations, solve similar problems, and understand those around us.

We learn through generalizations. Imagine how hard it would be for a child who couldn’t generalize. The world would be a confusing mess, and a baby wouldn’t even be able to tell what they see, feel, or hear. To distinguish, you have to generalize.

Likewise, to generalize, you have to distinguish. It’s like the chicken and the egg—where did it start? First, we identify a specific object (“this toy”), then generalize (“toys in general”). To pick out toys from a pile of things, you refer to the general concept of “toy.” So, a specific object is identified by a general trait. The sequence “distinguish–generalize” seems obvious, but how does a child distinguish the very first object?

Some things are grouped as “pleasant,” others as “unpleasant.” Even more, some things are labeled “me,” others “not me.” But how can you do this without finding what’s common?

It’s good that a child only needs to get burned once to be careful with fire for life. They don’t need to test every flame—stove, candle, campfire. It’s all “fire.” And it burns. And that hurts.

It’s also helpful that we have a word like “chair.” We don’t have to say, “I used something wooden, black, with four sticks, a shelf, and a backrest,” or “metal, three legs, round seat, soft back.” The word “chair” is much shorter—and more general.

In a psychiatric hospital:
– Nurse! Napoleon threw a chair at me!
– Throw one back!
– I can’t—it’s liquid!

We generalize almost everything: objects (furniture, housing, street), actions (work, rest, play, study), events (weekdays, weekends, holidays, vacations), people (family, friends, acquaintances, strangers), phenomena, methods, patterns, rules…

The impact of generalizations on life is hard to overestimate. They save us time and sometimes even prolong our lives. Take the generalization “you must be very careful on the roads.” In the 20th century, it became extremely important and saved many lives.

In summary, generalizations help us form our understanding of the world and ourselves. They let us understand ourselves and others, freeing us from having to constantly study the same things around us.

But on the other hand…

All generalizations are false. And that’s also true.

As soon as we call two different things by the same word, mistakes can happen. Imagine: “There are three tables and five chairs in the room.” Now specify: “One writing desk, one dining table, and a coffee table. Of the five chairs, one is broken.” Different picture?

A drunk is walking through the desert. A Bedouin on a camel approaches.
– Hey, man, is it icy here?
– No, why?
– Then why did you dump so much sand?

There are also limiting generalizations. For example, a child gets a bad grade on a spelling test. Some “well-meaning” adults help them form the generalization: “I’m bad at spelling.” Or worse: “Russian language…” Or: “Learning…” After that, the child may start to fear spelling tests, the Russian language, or learning in general—and may not even try to get a good grade.

In some ways, generalizations can be harmful. The vibrant, diverse world becomes standard and stereotypical. One-size-fits-all.

Two officers discuss what to give a friend for his birthday:
– Let’s give him a book.
– What? He already has one.

Knowledge starts to replace real experience. When stereotypes become rigid, the possibility of change disappears. Once you label someone as a “whiner,” it’s hard to notice if they’ve changed for the better.

There are also mistaken generalizations. For example, after meeting one rude sales clerk, people may judge all sales clerks—or even all service workers or government employees. After one boring book, some students form an attitude toward all books.

A man had terrible diarrhea. He tried everything: doctors, healers, folk remedies—nothing helped. Someone told him about Grandpa Makar, who could cure anything. The man goes to him, explains the problem, and Grandpa Makar says:
– Take off your pants and bend over.
Then Grandpa Makar waves a red lantern behind the man. After a while, the man asks:
– Will this help?
– Of course! It even stops trains…

There are countless examples like this! And as you read this, you probably thought of many more. The five specific cases mentioned here could easily turn into a sweeping generalization about all generalizations. Don’t! The only (well, maybe not the only) useful criterion for your generalizations is their usefulness in a given situation. Every generalization serves a purpose, has a positive intention. Should you give it up?

Deletion

Deletion is the process by which part of real experience is excluded from the model. It’s one of the three universals of human modeling. (NLP Dictionary)

To put it simply, deletion is like a filter that selects the most necessary and important information from the flood of data rushing into our brains. It’s like a loyal secretary who only lets in the visitors the boss needs. Or vigilant guards who look for exactly what the chief ordered. Or good headphones that only let through what’s useful.

From the endless stream of information the universe throws at us, we distill a refined, essential trickle. That’s what we perceive. This is the essence—the things we pay attention to first, what interests us most.

Have you ever talked on the phone in a noisy place? The distant voice is barely audible, but what they say is more important than anything else around you. All your attention is on that voice… and afterward, you can’t even say what was happening around you while you were on the phone.

Or maybe you’ve read a book on public transport? A really interesting book? You forget everything around you. The world disappears, and it’s just you and the book. You even forget where you are. Be careful not to miss your stop!

Without going into detail, it’s safe to say that at any moment, only part of our surroundings occupies our conscious attention. Only a small part is important or interesting. The rest is background—out of frame.

In physics class:
– Ivanov, what’s the difference between lightning and electricity?
– Lightning is free electricity.

Everyone’s impressions of a party will be different: “I met a great girl!” “The snacks were amazing!” “I can’t stand pop music!” “It was so late, I barely made it home.” They were all in the same place, but each took away something different. The rest was just background—ignored.

Some information is important to us, some isn’t. This is especially clear when you compare what’s said in a lecture to what ends up in your notes. The lecturer might talk about the weather, discipline, or the global importance of the subject… but your notes only include the main laws, definitions, and formulas—with brief explanations. The rest is “fluff.” Of course, this depends on your interests—some people’s notes are full of the lecturer’s catchphrases, like “The vector points this way.” Or, “Lecture topic: Hangover consequences.” Maybe nothing else was interesting in the lecture.

So, deletion lets us take only what’s necessary from the world and ignore the noise. This is especially helpful given our limited attention span.

A Brief Note on Attention Span

An interesting question: how many different things can a person simultaneously keep in focus? How much information can we take in at once? What’s the capacity of our conscious attention? The answer isn’t trivial, since this capacity is obviously small. We need to use it wisely.

Try this experiment. Pick three points you can look at at the same time. If they move, track all their changes. Watch all of them at once! Now, pick three sounds you can hear. If a sound disappears, pick another. Make sure you always have three. Add these three sounds to the three points you’re watching.

The experiment is getting harder. Now you’re tracking six things. Some may slip out of focus, but bring them back and keep going.

Next, add sensations. Pick three spots on your body and track all the sensations in them. At any moment, something is happening in each spot. Track it.

Now you have nine points of attention. If you can keep all nine, try reading on in this state. If you’re tracking fewer, that’s fine too.

Did you notice that while you were tracking all these points, almost all your thoughts disappeared? If not, you could probably track more points if your inner dialogue quieted down.

Many experiments have been done to determine the capacity of conscious attention. Some are like this one, others are different. One version: you’re given a long string of numbers and a few seconds to memorize it. Then the numbers are hidden, and you’re asked to recall them from memory.

Amazingly, in most cases, people could recall about seven numbers. More precisely, the number varied between 7±2, that is, from five to nine. All experiments with information overload showed the same: 7±2 is the limit. So, the capacity of conscious attention is 7±2 units of information.

What’s a “unit of information”? It’s flexible. We can remember seven leaves, seven twigs, or seven trees—with different levels of detail: “A tree is a tree. What leaves?”

To remember better, we often break information into manageable blocks. For example, seven-digit phone numbers are split into three blocks. Now you only need to remember three numbers, not seven digits. That’s much easier. In experiments, those who grouped numbers into blocks of three did best.

14916253649648110—not memorable
1, 4, 9, 1, 6, 2, 5—broken into a readable sequence
149-16-25—habitual grouping
149, 162, 536—standard triplets
1, 4, 9, 16, 25, 36, 49…—if you spot the pattern, it’s even easier (n²)

Important note: 7±2 is the capacity of conscious attention. That’s how many units we can consciously keep in view. But our brain records everything it ever received from our senses.

All our life experience is encoded in our nervous system. A phone number can be stored as a single image, along with the piece of paper it was written on. Even from our own memories, we only select 7±2 blocks at a time. No more.

So, there’s an ocean of events around us, but we can only drink it drop by drop—through a tiny straw that fits 7±2 pieces of information. Maybe that’s why we miss so many details?

Distortion

Distortion is the process by which the relationships between parts of the model become different from the real relationships between parts of real experience. It’s one of the three universals of human modeling. (NLP Dictionary)

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say it’s almost impossible to convey something without distortion. Any artist will confirm this. Even a photograph flattens a three-dimensional world. Any audio recording distorts real sound, even if just a little. Can you really convey your sensations to someone else in detail?

– I don’t get what people see in Caruso. He can’t sing!
– Have you heard him?
– No, but my friend sang his songs to me over the phone.

Even as direct participants in events, we manage to distort reality. Imagine the job of detectives questioning witnesses: “He was so scary. Huge! All in black.” “A wicked grin and piercing eyes.” “His voice was screechy, like a knife on glass.” Remember the saying: “Fear has big eyes”?

A rabbit and a bear are in jail.
– Misha, they probably beat people here, says the scared rabbit.
The door opens and a camel is pushed in.
– Misha, look what they did to the horse!

Something that made a strong impression on you is likely remembered as bigger, more significant, and louder. It takes on huge proportions—in your perception. Other things may become gray and unremarkable—forgettable, bland, and tasteless.

Looking through the lens of infatuation, a young man sees a true beauty queen in the girl he likes. She really is the most beautiful to him. She’s just wonderful! And what a delightful smile! You can be sure his story will include her wonderful soul and brilliant mind. Who hasn’t experienced the joys of being in love?

Of course, that’s distortion.

Don’t even try to find out who made such a grand impression on him from this description. All those “most beautiful eyes and brilliant thoughts” exist only in his mind. How he reacted to the event is determined nine-tenths by his inner experience—his interests, preferences, emotional wounds, needs, expectations, dreams, and predispositions.

Some things seem more important to us from the start, others less so. We may want to highlight or downplay certain details. Even just telling friends about an event, we’re likely to exaggerate, leave things out, or embellish.

The fisherman’s son, spreading his arms wide:
– Mom! I got SUCH a good grade today!

Now imagine how your story will be distorted when your friends retell it to their friends. They filter it through their own experience, their own models. You say you “went camping and had a great time,” and that could mean “rafting down a wild river,” “having a picnic with vodka and an overnight stay,” or “climbing a new peak.” Everyone hears their own version.

You say “homeland,” and everyone thinks of something different. You say “soul,” and everyone has their own response. We all learned the meaning of each word from life, not from a dictionary. Although, the map is not the territory—some may have learned from the dictionary.

Another way we use distortion is to take from the world only what we want, or to reshape what we’re given. For example, I believe that “all people are good.” That’s a very useful belief. Suppose someone does me harm.

(I wrote this for brevity. For me, it’s obvious that they perform certain actions, do certain things, which some people might call “harm.” That’s what it’s called in their model of the world. Did you notice the shift? Specific actions are replaced by an evaluation—distortion.)

The judgment “does me harm” probably won’t fit into my map—my distortion process kicks in: “There are no failures, only feedback.” So I start collecting feedback.

“The meaning of communication is the response it gets.” – What did I do wrong? “Every behavior has a positive intention.” – What are they trying to achieve? “The universe is a friendly place!” – What benefit can I get from this? And so on—according to presuppositions.

The result? First, the situation resolves in the best way. Second, I keep a good mood and control over the situation. Third, the person gets what they wanted and leaves happy. And finally, my faith in people remains unshaken. That’s what it was all for. Distortion did its job!

Unfortunately (or fortunately), distortion protects all of a person’s beliefs—both helpful and limiting. If a woman “knows” that “all men are jerks and drunks,” she’ll distort the world so that this belief remains unshakable. She can turn all the men around her into jerks and drunks—at least in her imagination. And deletion and generalization help out, too…

What else does distortion give us? It gives us something new! Things we’ve never seen or heard before. It’s our built-in capacity for creativity, development, invention. Distortions let us create new things, fantasize, dream—create. Without the ability to distort, we’d be forced to endlessly repeat what already exists. Nothing new. Day after day.

In summary, distortion is a way to simplify a complex life into something simple, understandable, and predictable. It’s an inevitable consequence (and cause) of the differences in our models of the world. It lets us focus on specific details. Sometimes, it even lets us embellish our lives. It’s a loyal defender of our beliefs and opinions. And it’s the source of our ability to create something new.

And that’s the last of the three ways we create models of the world: generalization, deletion, and distortion.