Influence: Science and Practice (23 page)

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This is not to say that what we feel about an issue is always different from or always to be trusted more than what we think about it. However, the data are clear that our emotions and beliefs often do not point in the same direction. Therefore, in situations involving a commitment likely to have generated supporting rationalizations, feelings may well provide the truer counsel. This would be especially so when, as in the question of Sara’s happiness, the issue at hand concerns an emotion (Wilson et al., 1989).

I have begun using the same device myself whenever I even suspect I might be acting in a foolishly consistent manner. One time, for instance, I had stopped at the self-service pump of a filling station advertising a price per gallon a couple of cents below the rate of other stations in the area; but with pump nozzle in hand, I noticed that the price listed on the pump was two cents higher than the display sign price. When I mentioned the difference to a passing attendant, who I later learned was the owner, he mumbled unconvincingly that the rates had changed a few days ago, but there hadn’t been time to correct the display. I tried to decide what to do. Some reasons for staying came to mind—“I really do need gasoline badly.” “This pump is available, and I am in sort of a hurry.” “I think I remember that my car runs better on this brand of gas.”

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.

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, nobody’s gonna tell me how to run my business. If you think I’m cheating you, just put that hose down
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.

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 Associated 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 attitudes 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).

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 membership. 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.

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 participate in a 20-minute online survey of “school and social relationships.” 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

Psychologists have long recognized a desire in most people to be and look consistent within their words, beliefs, attitudes, 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.

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).

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.”

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 circumstances, it is best to explain to the requester that such compliance would constitute 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.