Influence Science and Practice Part 5

I needed to determine whether those reasons were genuine or mere justifications for my decision to stop there. So I asked myself the crucial question, "Knowing what I know about the real price of this gasoline, if I could go back in time, would I make the same choice again?" Concentrating on the first burst of impression I sensed, I received a clear and unqualified answer. I would have driven right past. I wouldn't even have slowed down. I knew then that, without the price advantage, those other reasons would not have brought me there. They hadn't created the decision; the decision had created them. those other reasons would not have brought me there. They hadn't created the decision; the decision had created them.

That settled, there was another decision to be faced. Since I was already there holding the hose, wouldn't it be better to use it than to suffer the inconvenience of going elsewhere to pay the same price? Fortunately, the station attendant-owner came over and helped me make up my mind. He asked why I wasn't pumping any gas. I told him I didn't like the price discrepancy and he said with a snarl, "Listen, n.o.body's gonna tell me how to run my business. If you think I'm cheating you, just put that hose down right now right now and get off my property as fast as you can do it, bud." Already certain he was a cheat, I was happy to act consistently with my belief and his wishes. I dropped the hose on the spot . . . and drove over it on my way to the closest exit. Sometimes consistency can be a marvelously rewarding thing. and get off my property as fast as you can do it, bud." Already certain he was a cheat, I was happy to act consistently with my belief and his wishes. I dropped the hose on the spot . . . and drove over it on my way to the closest exit. Sometimes consistency can be a marvelously rewarding thing.

Special Vulnerabilities Are there particular kinds of people whose need to be consistent with what they've previously said and done makes them especially susceptible to the commitment tactics covered in this chapter? There are. To learn about the traits that characterize such individuals, it would be useful to examine a painful incident in the life of one of the most famous sports stars of our time.

The surrounding events, as laid out in an a.s.sociated Press news story at the time (Grandson's drowning, 2005), appear puzzling. On March 1, 2005, golfing legend Jack Nicklaus' 17-month-old grandson drowned in a hot tub accident. One week later, a still-devastated Nicklaus brushed aside thoughts of future golf-related activities, including the upcoming Masters tournament, saying "I think that with what's happened to us in our family, my time is going to be spent in much different ways. I have absolutely zero plans as it relates to the game of golf." Yet, on the day of this statement, he made two remarkable exceptions: He gave a speech to a group of prospective members at a Florida golf club, and he played in a charity tournament hosted by long-time course rival Gary Player.

What was so powerful to have pulled Nicklaus away from his grieving family and into a pair of events that could only be seen as wholly inconsequential compared to the one he was living through with his family? "You make commitments," he said, "and you've got to do them." His answer was as plain as that. Although the small-time events themselves may have been unimportant in the grand scheme of things, his earlier-made agreements to take part in them were decidedly not-at least not to him. But, why were Mr. Nicklaus' commitments so . . . well . . . committing to him? Were there certain traits he possessed that impelled him toward this fierce form of consistency? Indeed, there were two: He was 65 years old and American.

Age. It should come as no surprise that people with a particularly strong proclivity toward consistency in their att.i.tudes and actions fall frequent victim to consistency-based influence tactics. Indeed, research I conducted that developed a scale to measure preference for consistency found just that; individuals who scored It should come as no surprise that people with a particularly strong proclivity toward consistency in their att.i.tudes and actions fall frequent victim to consistency-based influence tactics. Indeed, research I conducted that developed a scale to measure preference for consistency found just that; individuals who scored high on preference for consistency were especially likely to comply with a requester who used the foot-in-the-door or the low-ball technique (Cialdini, Trost, and Newsom, 1995). What might be more surprising is that in a follow-up study employing subjects from ages 18 to 80, we found that preference for consistency increased with the years and that, once beyond the age of 50, our subjects displayed the strongest inclination of all to remain consistent with their earlier commitments (Brown, Asher, & Cialdini, 2005). high on preference for consistency were especially likely to comply with a requester who used the foot-in-the-door or the low-ball technique (Cialdini, Trost, and Newsom, 1995). What might be more surprising is that in a follow-up study employing subjects from ages 18 to 80, we found that preference for consistency increased with the years and that, once beyond the age of 50, our subjects displayed the strongest inclination of all to remain consistent with their earlier commitments (Brown, Asher, & Cialdini, 2005).

I believe this finding can help explain 65-year-old Jack Nicklaus' adherence to his earlier promises, even in the face of a family tragedy that would have given him an entirely understandable opt-out excuse: To be true to his traits, he needed to be congruent with those promises. I also believe that the same finding can help explain why the perpetrators of fraud against older populations so often use commitment-and-consistency tactics to snare their prey. Take as evidence a noteworthy study done by the AARP, which became concerned about the increasing incidence (and distressing success) of phone fraud attacks on its over-50 members.h.i.+p. Along with investigators in 12 states, the organization became involved in a sting operation designed to uncover the tricks of phone scammers targeting the elderly. One result was a trove of transcribed audio tapes of conversations between scammers and their intended victims. An intensive examination of the tapes by researchers Anthony Pratkanis and Doug Shadel (2005) revealed widespread attempts by the fraud artists to get-or sometimes just claim-an initial small commitment from a target and then to extract funds by holding the target accountable for it. Note how, in the following separate tape excerpts, the scammer uses the consistency principle like a bludgeon on people whose preference for personal consistency gives that weapon formidable weight.

"No, we did not merely talk about it. You ordered it! You said yes. You said yes."

"Well, you signed up for it last month; you don't remember?"

"You gave us the commitment on it over three weeks ago."

"I had a promise and a commitment from you last week."

"You can't buy a coin and renege on it five weeks later. You just can't do that."

Individualism. Is there another factor besides age that may account for Jack Nicklaus' strong need to remain consistent with his commitments? I hinted at such a factor earlier: He is an American, born and bred in the heartland (Ohio) of a nation that is distinguished from much of the rest of the world by its devotion to the "cult of the individual" (Hofstede, 1980; Vandello & Cohen, 1999). In individualistic nations such as the United States and those of Western Europe, the focus is on the self, whereas, in more collectivistic societies, the focus is on the group. For example, individualists decide what they should do in a situation by looking primarily at their own histories, opinions, and choices rather than those of their peers. This should make them highly vulnerable to influence tactics that use as leverage what a person has previously said or done. Is there another factor besides age that may account for Jack Nicklaus' strong need to remain consistent with his commitments? I hinted at such a factor earlier: He is an American, born and bred in the heartland (Ohio) of a nation that is distinguished from much of the rest of the world by its devotion to the "cult of the individual" (Hofstede, 1980; Vandello & Cohen, 1999). In individualistic nations such as the United States and those of Western Europe, the focus is on the self, whereas, in more collectivistic societies, the focus is on the group. For example, individualists decide what they should do in a situation by looking primarily at their own histories, opinions, and choices rather than those of their peers. This should make them highly vulnerable to influence tactics that use as leverage what a person has previously said or done.

To test this idea, my colleagues and I (Petrova, Cialdini, & Sills, 2007) used a version of the foot-in-the door technique on a set of students at my university; half were U.S.-born students and half were international students from less individualistic, Asian countries. We first asked all the students to partic.i.p.ate in a 20-minute online survey of "school and social relations.h.i.+ps." Then, a month later, we asked them to complete a 40-minute related survey on the topic. Of those who completed the 20-minute survey, the more individualistic American students were more than twice as likely as the Asian students to agree to the 40-minute request, too (21.6% versus 9.9%). Why? Because they, personally, had agreed to a prior, similar request; and individualists decide what they should do next on the basis of what they, personally, have done. Thus, members of individualistic societies-particularly older members-need to be alert to influence tactics that begin by requesting just a small step. Those small, cautious steps can lead to big, blind leaps.

Summary [image]Psychologists have long recognized a desire in most people to be and look consistent within their words, beliefs, att.i.tudes, and deeds. This tendency for consistency is fed from three sources. First, good personal consistency is highly valued by society. Second, aside from its effect on public image, generally consistent conduct provides a beneficial approach to daily life. Third, a consistent orientation affords a valuable shortcut through the complexity of modern existence. By being consistent with earlier decisions, one reduces the need to process all the relevant information in future similar situations; instead, one merely needs to recall the earlier decision and to respond consistently with it.

[image]Within the realm of compliance, securing an initial commitment is the key. After making a commitment (that is, taking a stand or position), people are more willing to agree to requests that are in keeping with the prior commitment. Thus, many compliance professionals try to induce people to take an initial position that is consistent with a behavior they will later request from these people. Not all commitments are equally effective, however, in producing consistent future action. Commitments are most effective when they are active, public, effortful, and viewed as internally motivated (uncoerced).

[image]Commitment decisions, even erroneous ones, have a tendency to be self-perpetuating because they can "grow their own legs." That is, people often add new reasons and justifications to support the wisdom of commitments they have already made. As a consequence, some commitments remain in effect long after the conditions that spurred them have changed. This phenomenon explains the effectiveness of certain deceptive compliance practices such as "throwing the low-ball."

[image]To recognize and resist the undue influence of consistency pressures on our compliance decisions, we should listen for signals coming from two places within us: our stomachs and our heart of hearts. Stomach signs appear when we realize that we are being pushed by commitment and consistency pressures to agree to requests we know we don't want to perform. Under these circ.u.mstances, it is best to explain to the requester that such compliance would const.i.tute a brand of foolish consistency in which we prefer not to engage. Heart-of-heart signs are different. They are best employed when it is not clear to us that an initial commitment was wrongheaded. Here, we should ask ourselves a crucial question, "Knowing what I know, if I could go back in time, would I make the same commitment?" One informative answer may come as the first flash of feeling registered. Commitment and consistency tactics are likely to work especially well on members of individualistic societies, particularly those who are over 50 years old. we realize that we are being pushed by commitment and consistency pressures to agree to requests we know we don't want to perform. Under these circ.u.mstances, it is best to explain to the requester that such compliance would const.i.tute a brand of foolish consistency in which we prefer not to engage. Heart-of-heart signs are different. They are best employed when it is not clear to us that an initial commitment was wrongheaded. Here, we should ask ourselves a crucial question, "Knowing what I know, if I could go back in time, would I make the same commitment?" One informative answer may come as the first flash of feeling registered. Commitment and consistency tactics are likely to work especially well on members of individualistic societies, particularly those who are over 50 years old.

Study Questions Content Mastery 1. Why do we want to look and be consistent in most situations?

2. Why do we find even rigid, stubborn consistency desirable in many situations?

3. Which four factors cause a commitment to affect a person's self-image and consequent future action?

4. What makes written commitments so effective?

5. What is the relations.h.i.+p between the compliance tactic of low-balling and the term "growing its own legs"?

Critical Thinking 1. Suppose you were advising American soldiers on a way to avoid consistency pressures like those used to gain collaboration from the POWs during the Korean War. What would you tell them?

2. In referring to the fierce loyalty of Harley-Davidson motorcycle owners, one commentator has said, "if you can persuade your customers to tattoo your name on their chests, you'll probably never have to worry about them s.h.i.+fting brands." Explain why this would be true. In your answer, make reference to each of the four factors that maximize the power of a commitment on future action.

3. Imagine that you are having trouble motivating yourself to study for an important exam that is less than a week away. Drawing upon your knowledge of the commitment process, describe what you would do to get yourself to put in the necessary study time. Be sure to explain why your chosen actions ought to work.

4. Think about the traditional large wedding ceremony that is characteristic of most cultures. Which features of that kind of event can be seen as commitment-enhancing devices for the couple and their families?

5. How does the photograph that opens this chapter reflect the topic of the chapter?

Chapter 4.

Social Proof.

Truths Are Us.

Where all think alike, no one thinks very much.

-Walter Lippmann.

I DON'T KNOW ANYONE WHO LIKES CANNED LAUGHTER. IN FACT DON'T KNOW ANYONE WHO LIKES CANNED LAUGHTER. IN FACT, when I surveyed the people who came into my office one day-several students, two telephone repairmen, a number of university professors, and the janitor-the reaction was invariably critical. Television, with its incessant system of laugh tracks and technically augmented mirth, received the most heat. The people I questioned hated canned laughter. They called it stupid, phony, and obvious. Although my sample was small, I would bet that it closely reflects the negative feelings of most of the American public toward laugh tracks.

Why, then, is canned laughter so popular with television executives? They have won their exalted positions and splendid salaries by knowing how to give the public what it wants. Yet they religiously employ the laugh tracks that their audiences find distasteful, and they do so over the objections of many of their most talented artists. It is not uncommon for acclaimed directors, writers, or actors to demand the elimination of canned responses from the television projects they undertake. These demands are only sometimes successful, and when they are, it is not without a battle.

What can it be about canned laughter that is so attractive to television executives? Why are these shrewd and tested people championing a practice that their potential watchers find disagreeable and their most creative talents find personally insulting? The answer is both simple and intriguing: They know what the research says. Experiments have found that the use of canned merriment causes an audience to laugh longer and more often when humorous material is presented and to rate the material as funnier (Provine, 2000). In addition, some evidence indicates that canned laughter is most effective for poor jokes (No-sanchuk & Lightstone, 1974).

In light of these data, the actions of television executives make perfect sense. The introduction of laugh tracks into their comic programming increases the humorous and appreciative responses of an audience, even-and especially-when the material is of poor quality. Is it any surprise, then, that television, glutted as it is with artless situation-comedies, is saturated with canned laughter? Those executives know precisely what they are doing.

With the mystery of the widespread use of laugh tracks solved, we are left with a more perplexing question: Why does canned laughter work on us the way it does? It is no longer the television executives who appear peculiar; they are acting logically and in their own interests. Instead, it is the behavior of the audience that seems strange. Why should we laugh more at comedy material afloat in a sea of mechanically fabricated merriment? And why should we think that comic flotsam funnier? The executives aren't really fooling us. Anyone can recognize dubbed laughter. It is so blatant, so clearly counterfeit, that there can be no confusing it with the real thing. We know full well that the hilarity we hear is irrelevant to the humorous quality of the joke it follows, is created not spontaneously by a genuine audience but artificially by a technician at a control board. Yet, transparent forgery that it is, it works on us!

The Principle of Social Proof To discover why canned laughter is so effective, we first need to understand the nature of yet another potent weapon of influence: the principle of social proof. This principle states that we determine what is correct by finding out what other people think is correct (Lun et al., 2007). The principle applies especially to the way we decide what const.i.tutes correct behavior. We view a behavior as correct in a given situation to the degree that we see others performing it. We view a behavior as correct in a given situation to the degree that we see others performing it.

The tendency to see an action as appropriate when others are doing it works quite well normally. As a rule, we will make fewer mistakes by acting in accord with social evidence than by acting contrary to it. Usually, when a lot of people are doing something, it is the right thing to do. This feature of the principle of social proof is simultaneously its major strength and its major weakness. Like the other weapons of influence, it provides a convenient shortcut for determining the way to behave but, at the same time, makes one who uses the shortcut vulnerable to the attacks of profiteers who lie in wait along its path.

In the case of canned laughter, the problem comes when we begin responding to social proof in such a mindless and reflexive fas.h.i.+on that we can be fooled by partial or fake evidence. Our folly is not that we use others' laughter to help decide what is humorous; that is in keeping with the well-founded principle of social proof. The folly is that we do so in response to patently fraudulent laughter. Somehow, one disembodied feature of humor-a sound-works like the essence of humor. The example from Chapter 1 Chapter 1 of the turkey and the polecat is instructive. Because the peculiar cheep-cheep of turkey chicks is normally a.s.sociated with newborn turkeys, their mothers will display or withhold maternal care solely on the basis of that sound. Remember how, consequently, it was possible to fool a mother turkey with a stuffed polecat as long as the replica played the recorded cheep-cheep of a baby turkey. The simulated chick sound was enough to start the mother turkey's maternal tape whirring. of the turkey and the polecat is instructive. Because the peculiar cheep-cheep of turkey chicks is normally a.s.sociated with newborn turkeys, their mothers will display or withhold maternal care solely on the basis of that sound. Remember how, consequently, it was possible to fool a mother turkey with a stuffed polecat as long as the replica played the recorded cheep-cheep of a baby turkey. The simulated chick sound was enough to start the mother turkey's maternal tape whirring.

The lesson of the turkey and the polecat ill.u.s.trates uncomfortably well the relations.h.i.+p between the average viewer and the laugh-track-playing television executive. We have become so accustomed to taking the humorous reactions of others as evidence of what deserves laughter that we too can be made to respond to the sound, and not the substance, of the real thing. Much as a cheep-cheep noise removed from the reality of a chick can stimulate a female turkey to mother, so can a recorded ha-ha removed from the reality of a genuine audience stimulate us to laugh. The television executives are exploiting our preference for shortcuts, our tendency to react automatically on the basis of partial evidence. They know that their tapes will cue our tapes. Click Click, whirr whirr.

People Power Television executives are hardly alone in their use of social evidence for profit. Our tendency to a.s.sume that an action is more correct if others are doing it is exploited in a variety of settings. Bartenders often salt their tip jars with a few dollar bills at the beginning of an evening to simulate tips left by prior customers and thereby to give the impression that tipping with folding money is proper barroom behavior. Church ushers sometimes salt collection baskets for the same reason and with the same positive effect on proceeds. Evangelical preachers are known to seed their audience with ringers, who are rehea.r.s.ed to come forward at a specified time to give witness and donations.

Advertisers love to inform us when a product is the "fastest-growing" or "largest-selling" because they don't have to convince us directly that the product is good; they need only say that many others think so, which seems proof enough. The producers of charity telethons devote inordinate amounts of time to the incessant listing of viewers who have already pledged contributions. The message being communicated to the holdouts is clear: "Look at all the people who have decided to give. It must must be the correct thing to do." Certain nightclub owners manufacture a brand of visible social proof for their clubs' quality by creating long waiting lines outside when there is plenty of room inside. Salespeople are taught to spice their pitches with numerous accounts of individuals who have purchased the product. Sales and motivation consultant Cavett Robert captures the principle nicely in his advice to sales trainees: "Since 95 percent of the people are imitators and only 5 percent initiators, people are persuaded more by the actions of others than by any proof we can offer." be the correct thing to do." Certain nightclub owners manufacture a brand of visible social proof for their clubs' quality by creating long waiting lines outside when there is plenty of room inside. Salespeople are taught to spice their pitches with numerous accounts of individuals who have purchased the product. Sales and motivation consultant Cavett Robert captures the principle nicely in his advice to sales trainees: "Since 95 percent of the people are imitators and only 5 percent initiators, people are persuaded more by the actions of others than by any proof we can offer."

Researchers, too, have employed procedures based on the principle of social proof-sometimes with astounding results.1 One psychologist in particular, Albert Bandura, has led the way in developing such procedures to eliminate undesirable behavior. Bandura and his colleagues have shown how people suffering from phobias can be rid of these extreme fears in an amazingly simple fas.h.i.+on. For instance, in an early study (Bandura, Grusec, & Menlove, 1967), nursery-school-age children, chosen because they were terrified of dogs, merely watched a little boy playing happily with a dog for 20 minutes a day. This exhibition produced such marked changes in the reactions of the fearful children that, after only four days, 67 percent of them were willing to climb into a playpen with a dog and remain confined there petting and scratching the dog while everyone else left the room. Moreover, when the researchers tested the children's fear levels again, one month later, they found that the improvement had not diminished during that time; in fact, the children were more willing than ever to interact with dogs. An important practical discovery was made in a second study of children who were exceptionally afraid of dogs (Bandura & Menlove, 1968): To reduce these children's fears, it was not necessary to provide live demonstrations of another child playing with a dog; film clips had the same impact. The most effective clips were those depicting a variety of other children interacting with their dogs. Apparently, the principle of social proof works best when the proof is provided by the actions of many other people. One psychologist in particular, Albert Bandura, has led the way in developing such procedures to eliminate undesirable behavior. Bandura and his colleagues have shown how people suffering from phobias can be rid of these extreme fears in an amazingly simple fas.h.i.+on. For instance, in an early study (Bandura, Grusec, & Menlove, 1967), nursery-school-age children, chosen because they were terrified of dogs, merely watched a little boy playing happily with a dog for 20 minutes a day. This exhibition produced such marked changes in the reactions of the fearful children that, after only four days, 67 percent of them were willing to climb into a playpen with a dog and remain confined there petting and scratching the dog while everyone else left the room. Moreover, when the researchers tested the children's fear levels again, one month later, they found that the improvement had not diminished during that time; in fact, the children were more willing than ever to interact with dogs. An important practical discovery was made in a second study of children who were exceptionally afraid of dogs (Bandura & Menlove, 1968): To reduce these children's fears, it was not necessary to provide live demonstrations of another child playing with a dog; film clips had the same impact. The most effective clips were those depicting a variety of other children interacting with their dogs. Apparently, the principle of social proof works best when the proof is provided by the actions of many other people.2 1A program of investigation conducted by Kenneth Craig and his a.s.sociates demonstrates how the experience of pain can be affected by the principle of social proof. In one study (Craig & Prkachin, 1978), subjects who received a series of electric shocks felt less pain (as indicated by self-reports, psychophysical measures of sensory sensitivity, and such physiological responses as heart rate and skin conductivity) when they were in the presence of another subject who was tolerating the shocks as if they were not painful.

2Any reader who doubts that the seeming appropriateness of an action is importantly influenced by the number of others performing it might try a small experiment. Stand on a busy sidewalk, pick an empty spot in the sky or on a tall building, and stare at it for a full minute. Very little will happen around you during that time-most people will walk past without glancing up, and virtually no one will stop to stare with you. Now, on the next day, go to the same place and bring along four friends to look upward too. Within 60 seconds, a crowd of pa.s.sersby will have stopped to crane their necks skyward with the group. For those pedestrians who do not join you, the pressure to look up at least briefly will be nearly irresistable; if the results of your experiment are like those of one performed by three social psychologists in New York, you and your friends will cause 80 percent of all pa.s.sersby to lift their gaze to your empty spot (Milgram, Bickman, & Berkowitz, 1969).

Fifty Million Americans Can't Be Wrong

The powerful influence of filmed examples in changing the behavior of children can be used as therapy for various other problems. Some striking evidence is available in the research of psychologist Robert O'Connor (1972) on socially withdrawn preschool children. We have all seen children of this sort: terribly shy, standing alone at the fringes of the games and groupings of their peers. O'Connor worried that this early behavior was the beginning of what could become a long-term pattern of isolation, which in turn could create persistent difficulties in social comfort and adjustment throughout adulthood. In an attempt to reverse the pattern, O'Connor made a film containing 11 different scenes in a nursery-school setting. Each scene began by showing a different solitary child watching some social activity and then actively partic.i.p.ating, to everyone's enjoyment. O'Connor selected a group of the most severely withdrawn children from four preschools and showed them this film. The impact was impressive. After watching the film, the isolates immediately began to interact with their peers at a level equal to that of the normal children in the schools. Even more astonis.h.i.+ng was what O'Connor found when he returned to the schools six weeks later to observe. While the withdrawn children who had not seen O'Connor's film remained as isolated as ever, those who had had viewed it were now leading their schools in amount of social activity. It seems that this 23-minute movie, viewed just once, was enough to reverse a potential pattern of lifelong maladaptive behavior. Such is the potency of the principle of social proof. viewed it were now leading their schools in amount of social activity. It seems that this 23-minute movie, viewed just once, was enough to reverse a potential pattern of lifelong maladaptive behavior. Such is the potency of the principle of social proof.3 3Other research besides O'Connor's suggests that there are two sides to the filmed-social-proof coin, however. The dramatic effect of filmed depictions on what children find appropriate has been a source of great distress for those concerned with frequent depictions of violence and aggression on television (Eron & Huesmann, 1985). Although the consequences of media violence on the aggressive actions of viewers are far from simple, the result of a review of 28 different experiments on the topic is compelling. After watching others act aggressively (versus nonagressively) on film, children and adolescents became more aggressive in their own personal situations (Wood, Wong, & Chachere, 1991). More recently, as concern in the United States has risen regarding the levels of obesity due to poor nutrition, health officials have worried that advertising depictions of fast food consumption in the media might spur poor nutritional choices by virtue of a social proof effect: "If everybody in the ads is ordering the extra crispy chicken, I can do it, too." A study of Asian, Hispanic, African American, and White children confirmed the need to worry. The more fast food promotions a family experienced, the more fast food they consumed. But, this wasn't the case because the ads changed parents' att.i.tudes toward fast food. Instead, in keeping with the mechanism of social proof, it was because parents' perceived fast food consumption as more normal in their communities (Grier et al., 2007).

After the Deluge When it comes to ill.u.s.trating the strength of social proof, there is one ill.u.s.tration that is far and away my favorite. Several features account for its appeal: It offers a superb example of the much underused method of partic.i.p.ant observation, in which a scientist studies a process by becoming immersed in its natural occurrence; it provides information of interest to such diverse groups as historians, psychologists, and theologians; and, most important, it shows how social evidence can be used on us-not by others, but by ourselves-to a.s.sure us that what we prefer to be true will seem to be true.

Looking for Higher (and Higher) Meaning The draw of the crowd is devilishly strong.

Punch/Rothco

The story is an old one, requiring an examination of ancient data, for the past is dotted with millennial religious movements. Various sects and cults have prophesied that on a particular date there would arrive a period of redemption and great happiness for those who believed in the group's teachings. In each instance it has been predicted that the beginning of a time of salvation would be marked by an important and undeniable event, usually the cataclysmic end of the world. Of course, these predictions have invariably proved false, to the acute dismay of the members of such groups.

However, immediately following the obvious failure of the prophecy, history records an enigmatic pattern. Rather than disbanding in disillusion, the cultists often become strengthened in their convictions. Risking the ridicule of the populace, they take to the streets, publicly a.s.serting their dogma and seeking converts with a fervor that is intensified, not diminished, by the clear disconfirmation of a central belief. So it was with the Montanists of second-century Turkey, with the Anabaptists of sixteenth-century Holland, with the Sabbataists of seventeenth-century Izmir, and with the Millerites of nineteenth-century America. And, thought a trio of interested social scientists, so it might be with a doomsday cult based in modern-day Chicago. The scientists-Leon Festinger, Henry Riecken, and Stanley Schachter-who were then colleagues at the University of Minnesota, heard about the Chicago group and felt it worthy of close study. Their decision to investigate by joining the group, incognito, as new believers and by placing additional paid observers among its ranks resulted in a remarkably rich firsthand account of the goings-on before and after the day of predicted catastrophe (Festinger, Riecken, & Schachter, 1964).

The cult of believers was small, never numbering more than 30 members. Its leaders were a middle-aged man and woman, whom for purposes of publication, the researchers renamed Dr. Thomas Armstrong and Mrs. Marian Keech. Dr. Armstrong, a physician on the staff of a college student-health service, had a long-held interest in mysticism, the occult, and flying saucers; as such, he served as a respected authority on these subjects for the group. Mrs. Keech, though, was the center of attention and activity. Earlier in the year she had begun to receive messages from spiritual beings, whom she called the Guardians, located on other planets. It was these messages, flowing through Marian Keech's hand via the device of "automatic writing," that formed the bulk of the cult's religious belief system. The teachings of the Guardians were loosely linked to traditional Christian thought.

The transmissions from the Guardians, always the subject of much discussion and interpretation among the group, gained new significance when they began to foretell of a great impending disaster-a flood that would begin in the Western Hemisphere and eventually engulf the world. Although the cultists were understandably alarmed at first, further messages a.s.sured them that they and all those who believed in the lessons sent through Mrs. Keech would survive. Before the calamity, s.p.a.cemen were to arrive and carry off the believers in flying saucers to a place of safety, presumably on another planet. Very little detail was provided about the rescue except that the believers were to make themselves ready for pickup by rehearsing certain pa.s.swords to be exchanged ("I left my hat at home." "What is your question?" "I am my own porter.") and by removing all metal from their clothes-because the wearing or carrying of metal made saucer travel "extremely dangerous."

As Festinger, Riecken, and Schachter observed the preparations during the weeks prior to the flood date, they noted with special interest two significant aspects of the members' behavior. First, the level of commitment to the cult's belief system was very high. In antic.i.p.ation of their departure from doomed Earth, irrevocable steps were taken by the group members. Most incurred the opposition of family and friends to their beliefs but persisted, nonetheless, in their convictions, often when it meant losing the affections of these others. In fact, several of the members were threatened by neighbors or family with legal actions designed to have them declared insane. Dr. Armstrong's sister filed a motion to have his two younger children removed from his custody. Many believers quit their jobs or neglected their studies to devote full time to the movement. Some even gave or threw away their personal belongings, expecting them shortly to be of no use. These were people whose certainty that they had the truth allowed them to withstand enormous social, economic, and legal pressures and whose commitment to their dogma grew as they resisted each pressure.

The second significant aspect of the believers' preflood actions was a curious form of inaction. For individuals so clearly convinced of the validity of their creed, they did surprisingly little to spread the word. Although they initially publicized the news of the coming disaster, they made no attempt to seek converts, to proselyte actively. They were willing to sound the alarm and to counsel those who voluntarily responded to it, but that was all.

The group's distaste for recruitment efforts was evident in various ways besides the lack of personal persuasion attempts. Secrecy was maintained in many matters-extra copies of the lessons were burned, pa.s.swords and secret signs were inst.i.tuted, the contents of certain private tape recordings were not to be discussed with outsiders (so secret were the tapes that even longtime believers were prohibited from taking notes of them). Publicity was avoided. As the day of disaster approached, increasing numbers of newspaper, television, and radio reporters converged on the group's headquarters in the Keech house. For the most part, these people were turned away or ignored. The most frequent answer to their questions was, "No comment." Although discouraged for a time, the media representatives returned with a vengeance when Dr. Armstrong's religious activities caused him to be fired from his post on the college health service staff; one especially persistent newsman had to be threatened with a lawsuit. A similar siege was repelled on the eve of the flood when a swarm of reporters pushed and pestered the believers for information. Afterward, the researchers summarized the group's preflood stance on public exposure and recruitment in respectful tones: "Exposed to a tremendous burst of publicity, they had made every attempt to dodge fame; given dozens of opportunities to proselyte, they had remained evasive and secretive and behaved with an almost superior indifference" (Festinger et al., 1964).

Eventually, when all the reporters and would-be converts had been cleared from the house, the believers began making their final preparations for the arrival of the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p scheduled for midnight that night. The scene as viewed by Festinger, Riecken, and Schachter must have seemed like absurdist theater. Otherwise ordinary people-housewives, college students, a high-school boy, a publisher, a physician, a hardware-store clerk and his mother-were partic.i.p.ating earnestly in tragic comedy. They took direction from a pair of members who were periodically in touch with the Guardians; Marian Keech's written messages were being supplemented that evening by "the Bertha," a former beautician through whose tongue the "Creator" gave instruction. They rehea.r.s.ed their lines diligently, calling out in chorus the responses to be made before entering the rescue saucer: "I am my own porter." "I am my own pointer." They discussed seriously whether the message from a caller identifying himself as Captain Video-a TV s.p.a.ce character of the time-was properly interpreted as a prank or a coded communication from their rescuers.

In keeping with the admonition to carry nothing metallic aboard the saucer, the believers wore clothing from which all metal pieces had been torn out. The metal eyelets in their shoes had been ripped away. The women were braless or wore bra.s.sieres whose metal stays had been removed. The men had yanked the zippers out of their pants, which were supported by lengths of rope in place of belts.

The group's fanaticism concerning the removal of all metal was vividly experienced by one of the researchers who remarked, 25 minutes before midnight, that he had forgotten to extract the zipper from his trousers. As the observers tell it, "this knowledge produced a near panic reaction. He was rushed into the bedroom where Dr. Armstrong, his hands trembling and his eyes darting to the clock every few seconds, slashed out the zipper with a razor blade and wrenched its clasps free with wirecutters." The hurried operation finished, the researcher was returned to the living room-a slightly less metallic but, one supposes, much paler man.

As the time appointed for their departure grew very close, the believers settled into a lull of soundless antic.i.p.ation. Luckily, the trained scientists gave a detailed account of the events that transpired during this momentous period.

The last ten minutes were tense ones for the group in the living room. They had nothing to do but sit and wait, their coats in their laps. In the tense silence two clocks ticked loudly, one about ten minutes faster than the other. When the faster of the two pointed to twelve-five, one of the observers remarked aloud on the fact. A chorus of people replied that midnight had not yet come. Bob Eastman affirmed that the slower clock was correct; he had set it himself only that afternoon. It showed only four minutes before midnight.

These four minutes pa.s.sed in complete silence except for a single utterance. When the [slower] clock on the mantel showed only one minute remaining before the guide to the saucer was due, Marian exclaimed in a strained, high-pitched voice: "And not a plan has gone astray!" The clock chimed twelve, each stroke painfully clear in the expectant hush. The believers sat motionless.

One might have expected some visible reaction. Midnight had pa.s.sed and nothing had happened. The cataclysm itself was less than seven hours away. But there was little to see in the reactions of the people in the room. There was no talking, no sound. People sat stock-still, their faces seemingly frozen and expressionless. Mark Post was the only person who even moved. He lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes but did not sleep. Later, when spoken to, he answered monosyllabically but otherwise lay immobile. The others showed nothing on the surface, although it became clear later that they had been hit hard. . . .

Gradually, painfully, an atmosphere of despair and confusion settled over the group. They reexamined the prediction and the accompanying messages. Dr. Armstrong and Mrs. Keech reiterated their faith. The believers mulled over their predicament and discarded explanation after explanation as unsatisfactory. At one point, toward 4 A A.M., Mrs. Keech broke down and cried bitterly. She knew, she sobbed, that there were some who were beginning to doubt but that the group must beam light to those who needed it most and that the group must hold together. The rest of the believers were losing their composure, too. They were all visibly shaken and many were close to tears. It was now almost 4:30 A A.M. and still no way of handling the disconfirmation had been found. By now, too, most of the group were talking openly about the failure of the escort to come at midnight. The group seemed near dissolution. (Festinger et al., 1964, pp. 162163, 168) In the midst of gathering doubt, as cracks crawled through the believers' confidence, the researchers witnessed a pair of remarkable incidents, one after another. The first occurred at about 4:45 A A.M. when Marian Keech's hand suddenly began transcribing through "automatic writing" the text of a holy message from above. When read aloud, the communication proved to be an elegant explanation for the events of that night. "The little group, sitting alone all night long, had spread so much light that G.o.d had saved the world from destruction." Although neat and efficient, this explanation was not wholly satisfying by itself; for example, after hearing it, one member simply rose, put on his hat and coat, and left, never to return. Something additional was needed to restore the believers to their previous levels of faith.

It was at this point that the second notable incident occurred to supply that need. Once again, the words of those who were present offer a vivid description:

The atmosphere in the group changed abruptly and so did their behavior. Within minutes after she had read the message explaining the disconfirmation, Mrs. Keech received another message instructing her to publicize the explanation. She reached for the telephone and began dialing the number of a newspaper. While she was waiting to be connected, someone asked: "Marian, is this the first time you have called the newspaper yourself?" Her reply was immediate: "Oh yes, this is the first time I have ever called them. I have never had anything to tell them before, but now I feel it is urgent." The whole group could have echoed her feelings, for they all felt a sense of urgency. As soon as Marian had finished her call, the other members took turns telephoning newspapers, wire service, radio stations, and national magazines to spread the explanation of the failure of the flood. In their desire to spread the word quickly and resoundingly, the believers now opened for public attention matters that had been thus far utterly secret. Where only hours earlier they had shunned newspaper reporters and felt that the attention they were getting in the press was painful, they now became avid seekers for publicity. (Festinger et al., 1964, p. 170) Not only had the long-standing policies concerning secrecy and publicity done an about-face, so too had the group's att.i.tude toward potential converts. Whereas likely recruits who previously visited the house had been mostly ignored, turned away, or treated with casual attention, the day following the disconfirmation saw a different story. All callers were admitted, all questions were answered, attempts were made to proselyte all such visitors. The members' unprecedented willingness to accommodate new recruits was perhaps best demonstrated when nine high-school students arrived on the following night to speak with Mrs. Keech.

They found her at the telephone deep in a discussion of flying saucers with a caller whom, it later turned out, she believed to be a s.p.a.ceman. Eager to continue talking to him and at the same time anxious to keep her new guests, Marian simply included them in the conversation and, for more than an hour, chatted alternately with her guests in the living room and the "s.p.a.ceman" on the other end of the telephone. So intent was she on proselyting that she seemed unable to let any opportunity go by. (Festinger et al., 1964, p. 178) To what can we attribute the believers' radical turnabout? Within a few hours, they had moved from clannish and taciturn h.o.a.rders of the Word to expansive and eager disseminators of it. What could have possessed them to choose such an ill-timed instant-when the failure of the flood was likely to cause nonbelievers to view the group and its dogma as laughable?

The crucial event occurred sometime during "the night of the flood" when it became increasingly clear that the prophecy would not be fulfilled. Oddly, it was not their prior certainty that drove the members to propagate the faith, it was an encroaching sense of uncertainty. It was the dawning realization that if the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p and flood predictions were wrong, so might be the entire belief system on which they rested. For those huddled in the Keech living room, that growing possibility must have seemed hideous.

The group members had gone too far, given up too much for their beliefs to see them destroyed; the shame, the economic cost, the mockery would be too great to bear. The overarching need of the cultists to cling to those beliefs seeps poignantly from their own words. From a young woman with a 3-year-old child:

I have to believe the flood is coming on the twenty-first because I've spent all my money. I quit my job, I quit computer school. . . . I have to believe. (p. 168) From Dr. Armstrong to one of the researchers four hours after the failure of the saucermen to arrive:

I've had to go a long way. I've given up just about everything. I've cut every tie. I've burned every bridge. I've turned my back on the world. I can't afford to doubt. I have to believe. And there isn't any other truth. (p. 168) Imagine the corner in which Dr. Armstrong and his followers found themselves as morning approached. So ma.s.sive was the commitment to their beliefs that no other truth was tolerable. Yet that set of beliefs had just taken a merciless pounding from physical reality: No saucer had landed, no s.p.a.cemen had knocked, no flood had come, nothing had happened as prophesied. Since the only acceptable form of truth had been undercut by physical proof, there was but one way out of the corner for the group. It had to establish another type of proof for the validity of its beliefs: social proof.

This, then, explains their sudden s.h.i.+ft from secretive conspirators to zealous missionaries. It also explains the curious timing of the s.h.i.+ft-precisely when a direct disconfirmation of their beliefs had rendered them least convincing to outsiders. It was necessary to risk the scorn and derision of the nonbelievers because publicity and recruitment efforts provided the only remaining hope. If they could spread the Word, if they could inform the uninformed, if they could persuade the skeptics, and if, by so doing, they could win new converts, their threatened but treasured beliefs would become truer truer. The principle of social proof says so: The greater the number of people who find any idea correct, the more a given individual will perceive the idea to be correct The greater the number of people who find any idea correct, the more a given individual will perceive the idea to be correct. The group's a.s.signment was clear; since the physical evidence could not be changed, the social evidence had to be. Convince and ye shall be convinced.4 4Perhaps because of the quality of ragged desperation with which they approached their task, the believers were wholly unsuccessful at enlarging their number. Not a single convert was gained. At that point, in the face of the dual failures of physical and social proof, the cult quickly disintegrated. Less than three weeks after the date of the predicted flood, group members were scattered and maintained only sporadic communication with one another. In one final-and ironic-disconfirmation of prediction, it was the movement that perished in the flood.

Ruin has not always been the fate of doomsday groups whose predictions proved unsound, however. When such groups have been able to build social proof for their beliefs through effective recruitment efforts, they have grown and prospered. For example, when the Dutch Anabaptists saw their prophesied year of destruction, 1533, pa.s.s uneventfully, they became rabid seekers after converts, pouring unprecedented amounts of energy into the cause. One extraordinarily eloquent missionary, Jakob van Kampen, is reported to have baptized 100 persons in a single day. So powerful was the s...o...b..lling social evidence in support of the Anabaptist position that it rapidly overwhelmed the disconfirming physical evidence and turned two-thirds of the population of Holland's great cities into adherents.

Cause of Death: Uncertain(ty) All the weapons of influence discussed in this book work better under some conditions than under others. If we are to defend ourselves adequately against any such weapon, it is vital that we know its optimal operating conditions in order to recognize when we are most vulnerable to its influence. We have already had a hint of one time when the principle of social proof worked best with the Chicago believers. It was a sense of shaken confidence that triggered their craving for converts. In general, when we are unsure of ourselves, when the situation is unclear or ambiguous, when uncertainty reigns, we are most likely to look to and accept the actions of others as correct (Sechrist & Stangor, 2007; Wooten & Reed, 1998; Zitek & Hebl, 2007).

Another way that uncertainly develops is through lack of familiarity with a situation. Under such circ.u.mstances, people are especially likely to follow the lead of others there. Consider how this simple insight allowed one man to become a multimillionaire. His name was Sylvan Goldman and, after acquiring several small grocery stores in 1934, he noticed that his customers stopped buying when their hand-held shopping baskets got too heavy. This inspired him to invent the shopping cart, which in its earliest form was a folding chair equipped with wheels and a pair of heavy metal baskets. The contraption was so unfamiliar-looking that, at first, none of Goldman's customers was willing use one-even after he built a more-than-adequate supply, placed several in a prominent place in the store, and erected signs describing their uses and benefits. Frustrated and about to give up, he tried one more idea to reduce his customers' uncertainty-one based on social proof: He hired shoppers to wheel the carts through the store. As a result, his true customers soon began following suit, his invention swept the nation, and he died a very wealthy man with an estate of over $400 million (Dauten, 2004).

In the process of examining the reactions of other people to resolve our uncertainty, we are likely to overlook a subtle, but important fact: Those people are probably examining the social evidence, too. Especially in an ambiguous situation, the tendency for everyone to be looking to see what everyone else is doing can lead to a fascinating phenomenon called pluralistic ignorance pluralistic ignorance. A thorough understanding of the pluralistic ignorance phenomenon helps explain a regular occurrence in our country that has been termed both a riddle and a national disgrace: the failure of entire groups of bystanders to aid victims in agonizing need of help.

The cla.s.sic example of such bystander inaction and the one that has produced the most debate in journalistic, political, and scientific circles began as an ordinary homicide case in New York City's borough of Queens. A woman in her late twenties, Catherine Genovese, was killed in a late-night attack on her street as she returned from work. Murder is never an act to be pa.s.sed off lightly, but in a city the size and tenor of New York, the Genovese incident warranted no more s.p.a.ce than a fraction of a column in the New York Times New York Times. Catherine Genovese's story would have died with her on that day in March 1964 if it hadn't been for a mistake.

The metropolitan editor of the Times Times, A. M. Rosenthal, happened to be having lunch with the city police commissioner a week later. Rosenthal asked the commissioner about a different Queens-based homicide, and the commissioner, thinking he was being questioned about the Genovese case, revealed something staggering that had been uncovered by the police investigation. It was something that left everyone who heard it, the commissioner included, aghast and grasping for explanations. Catherine Genovese had not experienced a quick, m.u.f.fled death. It had been a long, loud, tortured, public public event. Her a.s.sailant had chased and attacked her in the street three times over a period of 35 minutes before his knife finally silenced her cries for help. Incredibly, 38 of her neighbors watched from the safety of their apartment windows without so much as lifting a finger to call the police. event. Her a.s.sailant had chased and attacked her in the street three times over a period of 35 minutes before his knife finally silenced her cries for help. Incredibly, 38 of her neighbors watched from the safety of their apartment windows without so much as lifting a finger to call the police.

Rosenthal, a former Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter, knew a story when he heard one. On the day of his lunch with the commissioner, he a.s.signed a reporter to investigate the "bystander angle" of the Genovese incident. Within a week, the Times Times published a long, front-page article that was to create a swirl of controversy and speculation. The initial paragraphs of that report provided the tone and focus of the story: published a long, front-page article that was to create a swirl of controversy and speculation. The initial paragraphs of that report provided the tone and focus of the story:

For more than half an hour 38 respectable, law-abiding citizens in Queens watched a killer stalk and stab a woman in three separate attacks in Kew Gardens.

Twice the sound of their voices and the sudden glow of their bedroom lights interrupted him and frightened him off. Each time he returned, sought her out, and stabbed her again. Not one person telephoned the police during the a.s.sault; one witness called after the woman was dead.

That was two weeks ago today. But a.s.sistant Chief Inspector Frederick M. Lussen, in charge of the borough's detectives and a veteran of 25 years of homicide investigations, is still shocked.

He can give a matter-of-fact recitation of many murders. But the Kew Gardens slaying baffles him-not because it is a murder, but because "good people" failed to call the police. (Ganzberg, 1964, p. 7) As with a.s.sistant Chief Inspector Lussen, shock and bafflement were the standard reactions of almost everyone who learned the story's details. The shock struck first, leaving the police, the newspeople, and the reading public stunned. The bafflement followed quickly. How could 38 "good people" fail to act under those circ.u.mstances? No one could understand it. Even the murder witnesses themselves were bewildered. "I don't know," they answered one after another. "I just don't know." A few offered weak reasons for their inaction. For example, two or three people explained that they were "afraid" or "did not want to get involved." These reasons, however, do not stand up to close scrutiny: A simple anonymous call to the police could have saved Catherine Genovese without threatening the witnesses' future safety or free time. No, it wasn't the observers' fear or reluctance to complicate their lives that explained their lack of action; something else was going on there that even they could not fathom.

Confusion, though, does not make for good news copy. So the press as well as the other media-several papers, TV stations, and magazines that were pursuing follow-up stories-emphasized the only explanation available at the time: The witnesses, no different from the rest of us, hadn't cared enough to get involved. Americans were becoming a nation of selfish, insensitive people. The rigors of modern life, especially city life, were hardening them. They were becoming "The Cold Society," unfeeling and indifferent to the plight of their fellow citizens.