Influence: Science and Practice (8 page)

Politics

Politics is another arena in which the power of the reciprocity rule shows itself. Reciprocation tactics appear at every level:

At the top, elected officials engage in “logrolling” and the exchange of favors that makes politics the place of strange bedfellows, indeed. The out-of-character vote of one of our elected representatives on a bill or measure can often be understood as a favor returned to the bill’s sponsor. Political analysts were amazed at Lyndon Johnson’s success in getting so many of his programs through Congress during his early administration. Even members of Congress who were thought to be strongly opposed to the proposals were voting for them. Close examination by political scientists has found the cause to be not so much Johnson’s political savvy as the large score of favors he had been able to provide to other legislators during his many years of power in the House and Senate. As president, he was able to produce a truly remarkable amount of legislation in a short time by calling in those favors. It is interesting that this same process may account for the problems Jimmy Carter had in getting his programs through Congress during his early administration, despite heavy Democratic majorities in both the House and Senate. Carter came to the presidency from outside the Capitol Hill establishment. He campaigned on his outside-Washington identity, saying that he was indebted to no one. Much of his legislative difficulty upon arriving may be traced to the fact that no one there was indebted to
him
. Much the same may be said about the first-term legislation record of Washington outsider Bill Clinton.

At another level, we can see the recognized strength of the reciprocity rule in the desire of corporations and individuals to provide judicial and legislative officials with gifts and favors and in the series of legal restrictions against such gifts and favors. Even with legitimate political contributions, the stockpiling of obligations often underlies the stated purpose of supporting a favorite candidate. One look at the lists of companies and organizations that contribute to the campaigns of
both
major candidates in important elections gives evidence of such motives. A skeptic, requiring direct evidence of the
quid pro quo
expected by political contributors, might look to the remarkably bald-faced admission by businessman Roger Tamraz at congressional hearings on campaign finance reform. When asked if he felt he received a good return on his contribution of $300,000, he smiled and replied, “I think next time, I’ll give $600,000.”

Honesty of this sort is rare in politics. For the most part, the givers and takers join voices to dismiss the idea that campaign contributions, free trips, and Super Bowl tickets would bias the opinions of “sober, conscientious” government officials. As the head of one lobbying organization insisted, there is no cause for concern because “These [government officials] are smart, mature, sophisticated men and women at the top of their professions, disposed by training to be discerning, critical, and alert” (Barker, 1998). And, of course, the politicians concur. Regularly, we hear them proclaiming total independence from the feelings of obligation that influence everyone else. One of my own state representatives left no room for doubt when describing his accountability to gift-givers, “It gets them exactly what it gets everybody else: nothing” (Foster, 1991).

Excuse me if I, as a scientist, laugh. Sober, conscientious scientists know better. One reason they know better is that these “smart, mature, sophisticated men and women at the top of their [scientific] professions” have found themselves to be as susceptible as anyone else to the process. Take the case of the medical controversy surrounding the safety of calcium-channel blockers, a class of drugs for heart disease. One study discovered that 100 percent of the scientists who found and published results supportive of the drugs had received prior support (free trips, research funding, or employment) from the pharmaceutical companies; but only 37 percent of those critical of the drugs had received any such prior support (Stelfox, Chua, O’Rourke, & Detsky, 1998). If scientists, “disposed by training to be discerning,
critical, and alert,” can be swayed by the insistent undertow of exchange, we should fully expect that politicians will be, too. And, we’d be right. For instance, Associated Press reporters who looked at U.S. Congressional Representatives receiving the most special-interest-group money on six key issues during the 2002 campaign cycle found these Representatives to be over seven times more likely to vote in favor of the group that had contributed the most money to their campaigns. As a result, those groups got the win 83 percent of the time (Salant, 2003). Elected and appointed officials often see themselves as immune to the rules that apply to rest of us—parking regulations and the like. But, to indulge them in this conceit when it comes to the rule of reciprocity is not only laughable, it’s dangerous.

The Not-So-Free Sample

Of course, the power of reciprocity can be found in the merchandising field as well. Although the number of examples is large, let’s examine a pair of familiar ones. As a marketing technique, the free sample has a long and effective history. In most instances, a small amount of the relevant product is given to potential customers to see if they like it. Certainly this is a legitimate desire of the manufacturer—to expose the public to the qualities of the product. The beauty of the free sample, however, is that it is also a gift and, as such, can engage the reciprocity rule. In true jujitsu fashion, a promoter who provides free samples can release the natural indebting force inherent in a gift, while innocently appearing to have only the intention to inform.

A favorite place for free samples is the supermarket, where customers are frequently given small amounts of a certain product to try. Many people find it difficult to accept samples from the always smiling attendant, return only the toothpicks or cups, and walk away. Instead, they buy some of the product, even if they might not have liked it very much. A highly effective variation on this marketing procedure is illustrated in the case, cited by Vance Packard in
The Hidden Persuaders
(1957), of the Indiana supermarket operator who sold an astounding 1,000 pounds of cheese in a few hours one day by putting out the cheese and inviting customers to cut off slivers for themselves as free samples.

A different version of the free-sample tactic is used by the Amway Corporation, a company that manufactures and distributes household and personal-care products in a vast national network of door-to-door neighborhood sales. The company, which has grown from a basement-run operation to a $1.5 billion yearly sales business, makes use of the free sample in a device called the BUG. The BUG consists of a collection of Amway products—bottles of furniture polish, detergent, or shampoo, spray containers of deodorizers, insect killers, or window cleaners—carried to a customer’s home in a specially designed tray or just a polyethylene bag. The confidential Amway Career Manual then instructs the salesperson to leave the BUG with the customer “for 24, 48, or 72 hours, at no cost or obligation to her. Just tell her you would like her to try the products. . . . That’s an offer no one can refuse.” At the end of the trial period, the Amway representative is to return and pick up orders for the products the customer wishes to purchase. Since few customers use up the entire contents of even one of the product containers in such a short time, the salesperson may then take the remaining product portions in the BUG to the next potential customer down the line or across the street and start the process again. Many Amway representatives have several BUGS circulating in their districts at one time.

Buenos Nachos
Some food manufacturers no longer wait until the customers are in the store to provide them with free samples.

Of course, by now you and I know that the customer who has accepted and used the BUG products has been trapped by the reciprocity rule. Many such customers yield to a sense of obligation to order the products that they have tried and partially consumed—and, of course, by now the Amway Corporation knows that to be the case. Even in a company with as excellent a growth record as Amway, the BUG device has created a big stir. Reports by state distributors to the parent company record a remarkable effect:

Unbelievable! We’ve never seen such excitement. Product is moving at an unbelievable rate, and we’ve only just begun. . . . Local distributors took the BUGS, and we’ve had an unbelievable increase in sales [from Illinois distributor]. The most fantastic retail idea we’ve ever had! . . . On the average, customers purchased about half the total amount of the BUG when it is picked up. . . . In one word, tremendous! We’ve never seen a response within our entire organization like this [from Massachusetts distributor].

The Amway distributors appear to be bewildered—happily so, but nonetheless bewildered—by the startling power of the BUG. Of course, by now you and I should not be.

The reciprocity rule governs many situations of a purely interpersonal nature where neither money nor commercial exchange is at issue. Perhaps my favorite illustration of the enormous force available from the reciprocation weapon of influence comes from such a situation. The European scientist Eibl-Eibesfeldt (1975) provides the account of a German soldier during World War I whose job was to capture enemy soldiers for interrogation. Because of the nature of the trench warfare at that time, it was extremely difficult for armies to cross the no-man’s-land between opposing front lines, but it was not so difficult for a single soldier to crawl across and slip into an enemy trench position. The armies of the Great War had experts who regularly did so to capture enemy soldiers, who would then be brought back for questioning. The German expert had often successfully completed such missions in the past and was sent on another. Once again, he skillfully negotiated the area between fronts and surprised a lone enemy soldier in his trench. The unsuspecting soldier, who had been eating at the time, was easily disarmed. The frightened captive, with only a piece of bread in his hand, then performed what may have been the most important act of his life. He gave his enemy some of the bread. So affected was the German by this gift that he could not complete his mission. He turned from his benefactor and recrossed the no-man’s-land empty-handed to face the wrath of his superiors. More bizarre still is the more recent case of an armed robber who crashed a Washington, DC, dinner party—waving a gun and demanding money—but who changed his mind, apologized, and left upon being offered some of the remaining wine and cheese (Guess who’s coming to dinner, 2007).

An equally compelling point regarding the power of reciprocity comes from an account of a woman who saved her own life, not by
giving
a gift as did the captured soldier, but by
refusing
a gift and the powerful obligations that went with it. In November 1978 Reverend Jim Jones, the leader of Jonestown, Guyana, called for the mass suicide of all residents, most of whom compliantly drank and died from a vat of poison-laced Kool-Aid. Diane Louie, a resident, however, rejected Jones’s command and made her way out of Jonestown and into the jungle. She attributes her willingness to do so to her earlier refusal to accept special favors from him when she was in need. She turned down his offer of special food while she was ill, because “I knew once he gave me those privileges, he’d have me. I didn’t want to owe him nothin’” (Anderson & Zimbardo, 1984). Perhaps Reverend Jones’ mistake was in teaching the Scriptures too well to Ms. Louie, especially Exodus 23:8–“And thou
shalt take no gift; for a gift blindeth them that have sight and perverteth the words of the righteous.”