Men would rather receive an electric shock than think, psychologists warn

One crisp Saturday, I found myself volunteering at our local library’s “digital detox” day, a well-intentioned event where participants surrendered their phones for an hour.

Most people paced, fidgeted, or struck up awkward small talk. A few minutes in, one college student asked if browsing the dictionary counted as “cheating.”

His desperation reminded me of a headline I’d saved months earlier: Men would rather receive an electric shock than think.

The story sounded like an exaggeration until I read the details.

Psychologists at the University of Virginia and Harvard asked adults to sit alone with their thoughts for 15 minutes. Most hated it.

When given the option to administer a mild electric shock—something they’d previously paid money to avoid — 67% of men pressed the button at least once, compared with 25% of women.

One “maverick” shocked himself 190 times in a quarter hour.

The findings from a lively recap of Timothy Wilson’s original Science paper, jolted me more than the electrode ever could. 

My own fifteen-minute challenge

As a former financial analyst, I have a weakness for first-hand data.

So I decided to replicate the study—minus the shock option—in my living room. I set a timer, placed my phone facedown, and resolved to “just think.”

Ten seconds: grocery list.

Thirty seconds: the draft article I still hadn’t finished.

By minute three, my mind drifted to whether the neighbor’s dog was judging me. Around the six-minute mark, I reached a restless, almost itchy state where I’d normally scroll social media.

With no digital anesthesia, time stretched like taffy.

When the alarm finally chirped, I felt equal parts relief and embarrassment. If the silent room had offered a shock button, would I have pressed it? I’d like to say no, but my fidgety palms weren’t so sure.

Why the untutored mind rebels

Timothy Wilson calls the brain “designed to engage with the world,” noting that without training in meditation or other thought-control practices, most people prefer doing to thinking.

Thinking—real, undistracted thinking—requires steering mental traffic without the usual lane markers of conversation, tasks, or screens.

In a culture that celebrates productivity and omnipresent stimulation, an empty room can feel like sensory deprivation.

Neuroscientists add that the brain’s default-mode network, responsible for mind-wandering, becomes noisy when unoccupied, dredging up worries or regrets we’d rather mute.

External activity serves as a buffer — remove it, and the mind echoes.

The gender gap: discomfort or conditioning?

The data’s gender split sparked debate: why did twice as many men choose the jolt?

One hypothesis points to social conditioning. Men are often nudged toward action over introspection—“do something,” not “feel something.”

When action is blocked, even a negative sensation might feel preferable to mental stillness. Another angle involves risk perception — men, on average, engage more readily in sensation-seeking behaviors.

A zap delivers novelty and control—press, feel, repeat—while silent thinking offers neither.

Whatever the cause, the disparity suggests that interventions to foster reflective skills may need tailoring.

The goal isn’t to shame men for restlessness but to highlight a cultural blind spot: the value of sitting with one’s thoughts, however twitchy the process may feel at first.

Boredom, solitude, and the ancient brain

The study also touches a primal nerve: boredom once served as a survival cue, pushing early humans to seek resources and social bonds.

Evolutionary psychologists argue that idle time signaled wasted opportunity.

Today, that cue backfires when downtime is abundant but meaningful engagement is scarce. Modern life offers endless micro-distractions—notifications, newsfeeds, streaming platforms—that satisfy the “seek” impulse without demanding effort.

Thus, the idea of deliberate boredom feels counterintuitive, even threatening.

Wilson’s volunteers experienced that threat viscerally; the shock button was a quick escape hatch from ancestral discomfort in a contemporary setting.

Story in practice: the conference train ride

Weeks after my self-experiment, I boarded a train to a psychology conference with a vow to remain tech-free for the three-hour ride.

Ten minutes in, the internal monologue turned frantic: Check the schedule… text your partner… review slides.

Instead, I watched scenery blur and let thoughts settle.

Somewhere near mile marker 72, a presentation hook surfaced—an analogy between electric shocks and corporate busywork—and I scribbled it down.

By the time we pulled into Boston, I had outlined the session intro that attendees later called “strangely relatable.”

The idle space had birthed creative payoff, echoing Wilson’s suggestion that wandering minds can yield breakthroughs — if we give them room.

Practical takeaways: training the thinking muscle

If a 15-minute thought session feels harder than a mild shock, the answer isn’t to abandon reflection but to train for it, much like building cardiovascular endurance.

Start with five silent minutes daily, eyes open if that feels less meditative, and notice urges to reach for stimulation.

Label them “planning,” “worry,” or “boredom” without judgment.

Over time, extend the interval. For those who find sensory deprivation unbearable, introduce a neutral anchor: a candle flame, a ticking clock, or the distant hum of traffic.

The goal isn’t Zen mastery but tolerance — learning that uncomfortable feelings crest and fall without immediate anesthetic.

Technology as both culprit and coach

Ironically, the very devices that fragment attention can help retrain it.

Apps that block social media, wearables that prompt breathing pauses, or timers that gamify focus (hello, Pomodoro method) act as prosthetic discipline while the mind learns intrinsic control. The danger lies in confusing training wheels with the bicycle.

Eventually, true cognitive stamina means resisting the reflex to need external structure.

As Wilson notes, those comfortable with their inner world likely view the study results as baffling; their minds have learned to wander without defaulting to discomfort.

When doing nothing becomes a leadership skill

In corporate circles, “strategic thinking time” is trending, yet many executives secretly dread it.

A CEO I once coached scheduled silent walks after reading the shocking study, joking that she preferred blisters to electrodes. Within months, she reported clearer decision-making and fewer reactionary emails.

Her experience supports emerging leadership literature: reflective capacity predicts better crisis responses and more ethical choices.

If men—and leaders of any gender—avoid solitude, organizations risk strategies built on reflex rather than reflection.

Beyond boredom: the mental-health angle

Chronic avoidance of inward attention can mask underlying anxiety or depression. If silence amplifies rumination to the point of distress, professional support matters more than willpower.

Cognitive-behavioral therapy often begins by observing thoughts non-judgmentally — the very skill this study suggests is rare.

Thus, the findings double as a public-health nudge: society might benefit from normalizing mental restrooms as much as physical restrooms.

Final thoughts

The image of men zapping themselves to escape thinking is absurd, but the deeper message is universal: solitude skills are learned, not innate.

In a world that monetizes our attention, choosing to sit with unfiltered thought is a quiet act of rebellion — and, paradoxically, a proven incubator for creativity and calm.

So the next time a waiting room or traffic jam tempts you to reach for instant stimulation, consider pressing pause instead of a self-administered jolt.

Your brain, once untutored, might surprise you with what it can compose in the silence.