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Provide Encouragement

SOCIAL MOTIVATION

I was part of that strange race of people aptly described as spending their lives doing things they detest to make money they don’t want to buy things they don’t need to impress people they dislike.

Emile Henry Gauvreau

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No source of influence is more powerful and accessible than the persuasive power of the people who make up our social networks. None. The ridicule and praise, acceptance and rejection, approval and disapproval of our fellow beings can do more to assist or destroy our change efforts than almost any other source. A raised eyebrow, curled lip, derisive look, or small shake of the head can wield more influence than the sum total of all the world’s thundering speeches.

Smart influencers appreciate the amazing power humans hold over one another, and instead of denying it, lamenting it, or attacking it, they embrace and enlist it. They use the power of social influence to support change by ensuring that the right people provide encouragement, coaching, and even accountability during crucial moments.

THE POWER

In 1961, when psychologist Stanley Milgram set out to find U.S. citizens similar in disposition to what most people believed were the crazy misfits, fundamentalists, and psychological wrecks who had marched Jews, Poles, Romanies, and countless others into the gas chambers at Auschwitz, the world was surprised by what Dr. Milgram discovered. In fact, Dr. Milgram’s findings were so disturbing that he fell under attack from every corner. Nobody wanted to believe the data.

Mystified by what had happened in Hitler’s Germany, Dr. Milgram was interested in what type of person could be compelled to annihilate his or her innocent friends and neighbors. Naturally, blind fundamentalists who followed unspeakable orders all in the name of political zealotry would be hard to locate in the suburbs of Connecticut. Nevertheless, Milgram was determined to track down a few of them and put them under his microscope.

Of course, as a respectable researcher, Milgram couldn’t create circumstances under which his neighbors actually killed each other. But maybe he could trick subjects into thinking they were killing someone else, when in truth their victims would remain unharmed. To create these odd circumstances, Dr. Milgram ran an ad in the New Haven newspaper asking people to take part in an experiment that lasted one hour and for which they would be paid $4.50. Interested people reported to the basement of Linsly-Chittenden Hall on the campus of Yale University, where they were told that their job would be to take part in a study that examined the impact of negative reinforcement on learning.

While waiting for their turn to earn $4.50, subjects would chat with another participant about the upcoming job. This friendly stranger was actually a confederate of Dr. Milgram’s who was working as part of the research team. Next, a scientist in a lab jacket would appear and ask each of the two participants to reach into an urn and draw out a slip of paper to determine who would perform which of the two jobs that were available. One would be a “teacher,” and one would be a “learner.” In actuality, both slips said “teacher,” guaranteeing that the actual research subject would take the role of the teacher.

The teacher would then accompany the learner and the researcher into a small booth where the learner was invited to sit down while the researcher applied special paste to his arms. “This,” he explained, “is to ensure solid contact between your skin and the electrodes when we administer the shocks.” At this point, the learner would matter-of-factly explain, “A few years ago in the veterans’ hospital I was told I had a bit of a heart condition. Will that be a problem?” To which the researcher would confidently say, “No. While the shocks may be painful, they are not dangerous.”

After strapping the electrodes to the learner, the researcher and teacher would close the booth door and move to the adjoining room. There the teacher would see a frightening piece of electrical machinery with which he or she would deliver shocks to the learner. To reassure subjects (the teachers) that the machine was pumping out real electrons, each teacher would be given a 45-volt burst from the machine as a sample of the initial shock the learner in the other room would receive during the experiment. It hurt.

The stated goal of the experiment was to measure the impact of negative reinforcement on learning. To test this, the teacher would read a list of paired words loud enough for the learner to hear in the adjoining room. The teacher would then read the first word in each pair, and the learner would try to recall the second word. Should the learner get the word wrong, the teacher would throw a switch that would shock the poor learner with the heart problems. With each subsequent missed word, the teacher would raise the voltage, flip the switch, and give the learner an even larger shock.

Despite the fact that the teacher thought he or she was increasing the voltage with each new error, the learner received no electric shock whatsoever. Instead, with each throwing of the switch, the researcher would play a prerecorded audio clip that the subject could hear through the wall. With the first shock came a grunt. The second shock produced a mild protest. Next, stronger protests. Then screaming and shouting. Then screaming and banging on the wall with a reminder that he had heart problems. Eventually, when the voltage levels exceeded 315 volts, the teacher would hear nothing but silence as he or she read the words, raised the voltage, and cruelly flipped the switch.

Of course, Dr. Milgram knew he would have to experiment with a lot of subjects before he’d find anyone who would keep cranking up the volts. In fact, when Milgram asked a sample group of social psychologists to predict the results of this chilling study, they suggested that only 1.2 percent of the population, only a “sadistic few,” would give the maximum voltage.

When you watch black-and-white film clips of Milgram’s actual subjects taking part in the study, the hair stands up on the back of your neck. At first these everyday folks off the streets of Connecticut chuckle nervously as they hear the learner grunt in protest after being given a 45-volt shock. Some show signs of stress as they increase the voltage and the learner starts to shout. Many pause at around 135 volts and question the purpose of the experiment.

If at any time the subject called for a halt, he or she was told by the scientist in the white lab jacket that the experiment required him or her to continue—up to four times. If the subject requested to stop a fifth time, the experiment stopped. Otherwise, the experiment came to an end only after the subject had given the maximum 450 volts—to a learner who was no longer protesting, but who had gone completely silent—giving the teacher the distinct impression that the learner had either passed out or died.

Clearly the subjects who continued to send more and more volts to their protesting, screaming, and begging cohort took no pleasure in what they were doing. It’s unnerving to watch clips as anguished subjects suggest that they should stop the torture. After offering their suggestions, they are immediately told that the experiment calls for them to continue.

Researchers watched and recorded the subjects, taking comfort in knowing that only a few subjects would administer much of a shock. As it turned out, “only” 65 percent of subjects would.

That’s the finding that got Milgram in trouble. He hadn’t discovered a tiny handful of Connecticut zealots and sociopaths who would gladly give their souls over to the totalitarian cause. He had found the vulnerable target within all of us. He had looked for the freak and found himself—and you and me. And nobody liked it.

What was going on? Why do human beings place such a high premium on the approval of others—often strangers? Certainly that’s what you’d ask if you were a social scientist. As we suggested earlier, savvy students of influence ask how this amazing social force might work either for or against them as they do their best to lead change. Once they understand how social forces are working for and against them, they then use this power for their own purposes.

Savvy people know how to tap into this source of influence in hundreds of different ways, and they do so by following one rather simple principle. They ensure that people feel praised, emotionally supported, and otherwise encouraged by those around them—every time they enact vital behaviors. Similarly, they take steps to ensure that people feel discouraged or even socially sanctioned when they choose unhealthy behaviors.

The actual methods that influencers use to exploit the enormous power of “the fellow in the lab jacket” deserve a much closer look. Whole literatures are built upon the topic. Fields ranging from leadership to interpersonal influence to group dynamics sup at the table of social influence.

This being the case, we’ll now narrow the field by examining how social influence can be harnessed for good. It’s the part of the vast literature than can do us the most good. More specifically, we’ll examine the three best practices that help magnify the power of social support: First, we’ll look at “The Power of One,” or how to magnify our own social influence by means of sacrifice and symbolic action. Second, we’ll examine how to amplify your own social influence by partnering with opinion leaders. And third, we’ll discuss powerful principles for engaging literally everyone in changing the existing social norms.

THE POWER OF ONE

Stanley Milgram’s research clearly revealed that one respected individual can create conditions that compel ordinary citizens to act in curious, if not unhealthy, ways. But he also found the opposite to be true. After discovering that he could propel people to act against their own consciences, he began exploring which variable had the largest impact. Was it the size of the room, the look and feel of the electronic machine, or the distance to the subject? After conducting tests with over a thousand subjects of every ilk and under every imaginable condition, Milgram concluded that one variable more than any other affected how people behaved: the presence of one more person.

Dr. Milgram learned that if a confederate sitting next to the subject either shocked the learner all the way to 450 volts or stood up to the authority figure, it dramatically affected how the research subjects acted. He could increase the already stunning 65 percent of all-the-wayers to 90 percent if only one other person—just an ordinary looking person from off the street who had agreed to cooperate with Milgram’s team—gave a full dose of power just before the subject had a turn at the machine. Equally important, he discovered that the number who would administer the full shock dropped to a mere 10 percent if this confederate refused to do so. Either way, it just took one person to turn the tide of compliance.

This finding paints a much brighter picture of humanity and offers us a wonderful influence tool. To harness the immense power of social support, sometimes all you need to do is to find—or better yet, be— the one respected individual who flies in the face of what everyone else has done or is doing—and model the new and healthier vital behaviors.

Here’s how this works. We once watched how one person acting in ways counter to the norm can have an enormous impact on everyone. In this particular case the CEO of a large defense contractor was trying to transform a rather timid culture into one in which individuals openly stated their differing opinions as a means of resolving long-standing problems. After months of lecturing, he faced a crucial moment. In a meeting of his top 200 managers, the CEO extended an invitation. “I’ve been told that I’m unapproachable,” he began. “I am trying to work on it. But to be honest, I don’t know what it means entirely. I’d appreciate feedback from any of you who would be willing to help me.”

For a few seconds, the auditorium felt like a morgue. As the CEO scanned the audience for any takers, he was about to break the awkward silence and move on to a new topic when a fellow by the name of Ken raised his hand. “Sure, Bill. I’ve got some suggestions.”

With that announcement, the CEO set an appointment to talk one-on-one with Ken. As you might guess, from that moment on most of the water-cooler chatter was about the foolish risk Ken had just taken. Pay-per-view could have made a fortune selling access to the private meeting between Ken and the CEO. But in the end, the entire story came out—from the CEO.

After meeting with Ken (and with Ken’s permission) the CEO sent out an e-mail detailing the feedback he’d received. He made commitments to a couple of changes that he hoped would make him more approachable, and he was as good as his word. Equally important, the CEO sincerely thanked Ken for his candor. The CEO showed his genuine support of the behavior of being candid by not becoming defensive and by rewarding the person who had taken the risk to be honest—even when it hurt—and he then made personal changes to demonstrate his commitment.

The results of this incident were far-reaching. The CEO’s and Ken’s living examples of seeking and giving feedback emboldened the other 199 managers. Within months, candor among employees increased dramatically across the entire organization. Employees began to open up and successfully solve problems.

Although it’s true that neither Ken nor the CEO wore white lab jackets, they did exert social influence. Both were respected individuals, and both demonstrated how to break from tradition and speak frankly. Had the CEO only given lip service to the proposed vital behavior, he would have doomed the change effort. Had he simply used verbal persuasion, his influence would have been equally limited. Instead, the big boss encouraged candor, embraced it, celebrated it, and rewarded the first person who had the guts to speak his mind.

When a respected individual attempts a vital behavior and succeeds, this one act alone can go further in motivating others to change than almost any other source of influence. But take note, the living examples of other humans’ behaviors will exert power only to the extent that the person who is modeling the vital behaviors is truly respected. For example, when an HR manager at a midsize plywood mill we consulted with tried to put teeth into a training program she was touting, she videotaped the president of the company singing the praises of the new training. The president ended his short, energetic speech with, “I encourage each of you to take to heart the concepts taught in today’s training.”

When the HR manager showed the video clip at the beginning of the first training session, participants jeered, hooted, and mocked the president. It turned out that members of the audience despised anything coming out of headquarters. They thought the president was a raging hypocrite, and his ringing endorsement served only to harm the credibility of the training.

Some individuals can exert a great deal of influence on others; others can’t—or worse still, actually poison the project. So, how can you make sure you’re one of the ones who can set a positive example? Here are three best practices from influencers across the world.

Lead the Way

The first place to look for social influence is in the mirror. When you ask people to take on new behaviors, the first question they ask is, “Why should I follow you?”

Think about it. When we ask people to change their actions, many of the new behaviors are far more physically or emotionally challenging than the actions required to maintain the status quo. You’re asking people to step from a familiar, comfortable action into a world of uncertainty or difficulty.

For example, we worked with Mohammad Siddiqui, CEO of MTN of South Sudan, a telecommunications and digital services company. When Siddiqui took the job, he inherited a pretty cynical workforce. Due to political unrest and economic upheaval, local currency had lost 85 percent of its value. Thus, his workforce was living on 85 percent less than it had a year before. In addition, employees saw management as unsympathetic and demanding with their financial concerns.

Siddiqui was trying to solve a different problem. Employee engagement and productivity was unacceptably low. He was under the gun to dramatically improve results. He knew he would need the full intellectual engagement of his employees in order to make progress. So he started an effort to foster a new vital behavior. He wanted all employees to “speak up irrespective of the level or position of the person you need to address.”

His employees were stunned. First, because this was counter to the country’s culture. In South Sudan there is a strict sense of propriety about who speaks to whom—much less who disagrees with whom. And second, here was the man they partly associated with their unsatisfactory wages. He explained that the company would not survive if it gave substantial across-the-board pay increases. And now he is asking his employees to behave in ways that are terribly uncomfortable—even risky. Not a chance.

The Sad Truth. When you invite people to change, they begin to scan you for evidence of credibility (Siddiqui’s employees certainly did). They consider your every move—past and present—in order to answer the question, “Why should I believe and follow you?” Not only that, but when your behaviors appear ambiguous, they rarely give you the benefit of the doubt. The sad truth is that in an environment of mistrust (i.e., the known universe), all ambiguous behaviors are interpreted negatively. And by the way, all behaviors are ambiguous.

For example, we worked once with Chris, the CEO of a financial services company. He had recently taken his company through a massive rebranding effort that coincided with an attempt to change from a heavily departmentalized culture to one of teamwork and cross-functional collaboration. To celebrate the change, Chris had his communication team create fancy new coffee mugs emblazoned with the old company name and slogan. When hot coffee warmed the cup, heat-sensitive chemicals in the coatings caused the new name to replace the old one. One morning he was riding the elevator with an employee who was holding the new cup. Chris pointed to it proudly and said, “So, what do you think of that mug?” The dour-faced employee muttered, “It means there will be layoffs!”

Chris was stunned. “How’s that?”

“This mug is smaller than the previous one,” the employee explained.

Still not getting it, Chris questioned, “I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the employee continued, as though talking to a child. “If they’re shrinking the cups to save a few pennies on coffee, we will have to cut headcount sometime soon.”

All behaviors are ambiguous. People will interpret them as they see fit.

So here’s the problem. When you ask people to step into a place of uncertainty and change, they look to you to take their cues. They look at your behavior. Unfortunately, they have a bias for interpreting your behavior in ways that confirm rather than disconfirm their existing concerns or mistrust. So, in order to encourage them to change, you have to generate clear, unambiguous evidence that they can believe you. But how?

Sacrifice Breathes Life into Dead Values. Some say that the limiting factor for building trust is time. The only way to build social influence, they suggest, is to slowly build a relationship of trust with those you lead. “Give it time,” becomes a veritable mantra. But such a belief is an influence death sentence for someone like Siddiqui. He’s a new CEO, from another country no less, who needs to influence change today—not 10 years from now.

Fortunately, the “time” theory is largely wrong. Within months Siddiqui built so much social influence with his team that behavior began to change in remarkable ways. What behaviors did he enact that made his stated beliefs both clear and credible—in an environment where people could draw negative conclusions about anything he did? Siddiqui learned that making a sacrifice can be a powerful influence accelerant.

The first thing Siddiqui did was unprecedented in South Sudanese culture. He listened and apologized. In public discussions with employees he listened carefully and attended to the pain they were experiencing due to the massive depreciation of their currency. He empathized with their plight, brainstormed ways he could help soften the blow, but ultimately explained that if the company was to remain viable (and they were to keep their jobs) there was little he could do. However, as employees left these remarkably candid sessions, more than one remarked that this was the first time they had ever heard a leader quietly, humbly, and sincerely say the words, “I am sorry.” Something inside them began to stir.

Then the most shocking rumor of all began to spread across the organization. Apparently the previous weekend Siddiqui and his seven-year-old daughter visited the home of Jafar (not his real name)—a well-respected MTN employee. Jafar, positioned 10 levels below Siddiqui and holding the job of janitor, was stunned when the big boss and his daughter made a call. At the appointed time, Siddiqui arrived. He paid homage to the home. He warmly greeted Jafar’s father and mother, who lived with Jafar. He inquired about Jafar’s circumstances. He expressed gratitude for Jafar’s long service and promised to do his best as a leader to earn his trust. Then he left.

Each weekend Siddiqui paid similar visits on other informal leaders from throughout the organization. In a matter of months, the talk about Siddiqui’s invitations to change were no longer ridiculed. In fact, the widespread view was that this was a man they could trust. A man who deserved their support.

When you ask people to make changes that can be disruptive, difficult, and even frightening, they aren’t likely to embrace your call to action if all you offer is a heartfelt plea. If you want to increase your influence with those you hope to help change—knowing full well that others can simply discount your speeches or misinterpret your actions—you’re going to have to make some sacrifices. You must regularly demonstrate your sincerity by generating incontrovertible evidence that you believe in what you say. You say that openness is important and then sacrifice pride to prove your point. MTN employees had seen generations of leaders who valued being held in high esteem (even deferred to) above all else. Bosses are important.

Then along comes a man who is willing to sacrifice his own pride and be treated as a peer—and sometimes a servant. He calls for openness and candid dialogue. He listens. He apologizes. He enters humble homes. This is a man who lives up to the cliché—he walks the talk. More specifically, he sacrifices old values to demonstrate the importance of the new one. In a matter of weeks his colleagues recognized that, to Siddiqui, open discussion, results, and relationships are far more important than deferring to authority.

Given the importance of sacrifice in helping others interpret our actions—better still, believe in both what we say and do—let’s take a look at four kinds of sacrifices that can act as a trust accelerant.

 

1. Time: Siddiqui’s behavior was remarkable because it illustrated sacrifice on many levels. One of the most compelling sacrifices was with his time. When people heard about his personal visits to employee homes, they wanted details. They wanted to know what he said. How he behaved. Where he sat. But also, how long he stayed. We all know time is a finite commodity. No one has any more of it than anyone else. No one has found a way to create more of it. So we trust that it is a credible demonstration of our values. When you give of your time, you give of yourself—and, by the way, there is no such thing as quality time. Had Siddiqui made a brief and effusive five-minute visit, it would have sent an entirely different message than his hour-long conversation over tea spoke to everyone. If you want to persuade people that you are serious, sacrifice your time.

2. Money: We (the authors) became loyal customers of Hertz Rent-a-Car after 9/11. Two of us were in Dallas on business when the attack came. Since all aircraft were grounded indefinitely, we were left with no way to get home to worried families. We placed a call to Hertz to ask how much it would cost to drive its car the 2,500 miles from Dallas to Salt Lake City. The agent replied, “Nothing. We’ve got this. You take the car wherever you need to go. You get home to your family. Turn it in at the most convenient Hertz location. There will be no drop-off fee. Take care.” We were speechless.

That sacrifice at that tender time so moved us that our feelings about the company changed profoundly. We knew that Hertz talked about customer service. Its ads were full of such ideas. Now we believed that it actually did care about customers. Why? Because the company took a huge hit to the bottom line (at least in the short run) in order to do what was best to serve its customers in a time of crisis. Anyone who sacrifices money to serve customers cares about customers.

3. Ego: You’re going to screw up. Just accept it. There will be times that you will lose it. You’ll behave in ways that are antithetical to the vital behaviors you hope to foster. You’ll be a hypocrite. But this isn’t the end of the world. In fact, it can be a powerful opportunity for you to enhance trust. But how? By sacrificing ego.

For example, we once worked with a leader we’ll call Liz. Liz was a facility manager in Kuala Lumpur. Her campaign to improve quality screeched to a halt one day at the end of a manager briefing when she responded to questions written on cards from the 200-person audience. One comment read, “Yesterday you and the execs from Japan were supposed to do a facility tour. My team spent all weekend preparing for the tour and you never showed up.” Liz’s face turned red. She slapped the card down on the rostrum. She removed her glasses, then said, “Yesterday I had a decision to make. I had to decide whether to spend two hours with our senior executives touring the facility, or discuss the future of the company. I chose the latter and would do the same today. Next question?” The session ended quite uncomfortably.

Liz was immediately repentant. She knew she had just damaged trust. She knew she had violated her own vital behaviors (which didn’t include putting someone down in a meeting and becoming righteously indignant). Fortunately, it all changed the next week during a similar briefing. As Liz began, she stepped from behind the podium. She bowed her head. And she said with some emotion. “Last week I behaved despicably.” She went on to describe what had happened. Then concluded with. “I beg your forgiveness. That was unacceptable. And I will not do that again.” And she didn’t.

Ironically, the apology had a more powerful effect on trust than if she had behaved perfectly in the previous meeting. In that moment of public contrition her team learned that her espoused value of openness and respect were more important than her ego. She was willing to sacrifice the latter for the former. And you can do the same. A mistake or two are not the end of the world. So long as you demonstrate what matters most by subordinating ego to integrity.

4. Previous priorities: There was a time when some employees at Lockheed Martin Aeronautics wrongly concluded their CEO, Dain Hancock, was all about image. When he had scarce capital dollars to spend, he invested them in a high-tech entrance to the company’s facility rather than installing much needed air-conditioning in the blistering hot receiving area. To these employees it appeared as though looking good to outsiders was more important to him than attending to employee needs—including listening to what they had to say.

This rather unflattering view changed one day when Dain was holding an employee feedback meeting. Fifteen minutes into the 90-minute session his secretary rushed in to announce: “The prince is here two hours early.” Visiting royalty was scheduled to arrive following the session to discuss a multibillion-dollar order of F-16s. Dain paused, his expression inscrutable. Every employee in the room would have understood if he had canceled the session. Instead, Dain assigned his COO to send his apologies and greet the prince. Dain’s decision to continue the feedback session over attending to the prince took mere minutes to ripple across the 13,000-person facility. By sacrificing what people previously perceived to be his priority (impressing outsiders), Dain’s other stated value (listening to others) gained enormous credibility and went a long way in encouraging others to do the same. By sacrificing a previously important value for a newer one, the newer one gained credibility.

In summary, the first responsibility for creating social support for change lies in your own actions. You must ask yourself, “Why should others believe and follow me?” Then, to give weight to your talk about the importance of the vital behaviors you’re espousing, make sacrifices. Sacrifice other key values. Nothing makes a new vital behavior seem more credible than when you sacrifice time, money, ego, and other priorities to demonstrate that what you say is important to you really is important to you. As you do, your social influence can grow rapidly.

Engage Formal and Opinion Leaders

We’ve seen that one person can have an enormous effect on motivating others to enact vital behaviors. We’ve also seen that the influence of formal leaders (like the CEO and the fellow in the white lab coat) can have a remarkable influence on the behavior of those in their sphere of influence. So if you want to influence change, it’s essential that you engage the chain of command. Smart influencers spend a disproportionate amount of time with formal leaders to ensure that the leaders are using their social influence to encourage vital behaviors. They develop specific plans for formal leaders to ensure they regularly teach, model, praise, and hold those for whom they are responsible accountable for behaving in new and better ways.

But the bosses are only half of what you’ll need. It turns out that there’s a second and often overlooked group of people whose social support or resistance will make or break your influence efforts. To find out who this group is and how to enlist it, let’s take a look at the work of Dr. Everett Rogers. His contribution to influence theory remains one of the greatest in history, and it has important implications for how all parents, coaches, and leaders can best make use of social support.

After graduating with a PhD in sociology and statistics, Dr. Rogers took an intriguing job with the local university extension service. It was his responsibility to encourage Iowa farmers to use new and improved strains of corn. What could be easier? The new strains of corn Rogers was touting produced greater yields and were dramatically more disease resistant, and therefore, far more profitable than current strains.

As Dr. Rogers talked with local farmers about the terrific new seeds he was recommending, he quickly learned that his education and connection to the university didn’t impress them. He wasn’t exactly one of them. Farmers dressed differently; their hands were rough from physical labor; they read different magazines and watched different TV programs. Other than speaking the English language, they scarcely had a thing in common with Rogers.

At first, Dr. Rogers figured that this difference would actually work to his advantage. The reason the farmers should listen to his advice was because he hadn’t done what they had done. He had made a careful study of the crops they should grow. He was now working for the experts in agronomy. In fact, Rogers figured that when he talked, farmers would be taking notes and thanking him for helping them increase their yields.

But it didn’t work that way. It turns out that Rogers wasn’t just different. In the farmers’ view, he was the wrong kind of different. He was naive. He was a city slicker. He had never plowed a field. Sure, he said he read books, but what if he was wrong? Who would dare put their annual harvest at risk by listening to a young fellow just out of college? None of the farmers. That’s who.

After being summarily rejected by his target population, Rogers grew increasingly confused and desperate. What good is it, Rogers wondered, to invent better methods—in fact, far better methods—if no one will put them into practice? The very advance of civilization relies on citizens letting go of old, inefficient ways and embracing new, efficient ones. And Rogers just happened to know what those better ways were—at least for the farmers.

What could Dr. Rogers do if people didn’t respect him (which they most certainly didn’t)? The very fact that he was the one suggesting the new idea prevented people from listening to it. Perhaps Dr. Rogers could get a farmer to embrace the new strains of corn. Then a person from within the farming community could point to the better results, and everyone would be happy to follow. If Dr. Rogers could find a person who would be interested in trying the latest strains, he would be halfway home.

Eventually he enticed a farmer into giving the most current strains of corn a try. He wasn’t much like the other farmers. He was a rather hip fellow who actually wore Bermuda shorts and drove a Cadillac. He had a proclivity for embracing innovation, so he tried the new strains of corn and enjoyed a bumper crop. Now his neighbors would see the better results and be motivated to change.

Only they weren’t motivated.

The farmers didn’t adopt the new corn because they didn’t like the weirdo in Bermuda shorts who spurned their lifestyle any more than they liked the pretentious academic who had the nerve to tell them what to do.

This unvarnished failure changed the course of Rogers’s life. He spent the rest of his career learning what happens to innovations as they move through a social system. He wanted to learn why some ideas are adopted and others aren’t. He also wanted to uncover why certain individuals are far more influential in encouraging people to embrace an innovation than others.

As Rogers set to work, he examined every known study of change. He reviewed how new drugs catch on among doctors. He looked at how new technologies, such as VCRs, become popular. He studied the latest gadgets and discoveries. As he pored over the data, he was startled at how many great ideas simply die. For example, when Vasco de Gama made his triumphant voyage around the Cape of Good Hope, he took 160 men with him. Only 60 returned because the rest died of scurvy. Fortunately, in 1601, an English sea captain named John Lancaster discovered a cure for scurvy. He gave a little bit of lime juice to his sailors every day, and no one died of scurvy. And yet it took almost 200 years for the practice to spread. Initially the British were actually mocked for their curious practice, and the derisive term limey was born.

Rogers was shocked to discover that the merit of an idea did not predict its adoption rate. What predicted whether an innovation was widely accepted or not was whether a specific group of people embraced it. Period. Rogers learned that the first people to latch on to a new idea are unlike the masses in many ways. He called these people “innovators.” They’re the guys and gals in the Bermuda shorts. They tend to be open to new ideas and smarter than average. But here’s the important point. The key to getting the majority of any population to adopt a vital behavior is to find out who these innovators are and avoid them like the plague. If they embrace your new idea, it will surely die.

The second group to try an innovation is made up of what Rogers termed “early adopters.” Many early adopters are what are commonly known as “opinion leaders.” These important people represent about 13.5 percent of the population. They are smarter than average, and they tend to be open to new ideas. But they are different from innovators in one critical respect: they are socially connected and respected. And here’s the real influence key. The rest of the population—over 85 percent—will not adopt the new practices until opinion leaders do.

So it turns out that when the fellow with the Bermuda shorts used the new seeds, he didn’t do Rogers a favor. As far as farming methods were concerned, Cadillac man was an innovator. He was the first to adopt new ideas in his community, and like many innovators, his adoption cast suspicion on the “new ways” he endorsed. Since he was different from the majority of his peers in visible ways, and since much of what he did appeared to disrespect traditional methods, this made him a threat. He was neither respected nor connected.

As Rogers later explained, he learned that his recommendations would have fared better if he had carefully sought out opinion leaders to tout his strains of corn.

Given the boost opinion leaders can offer an influence strategy, it is no surprise to learn that the influencers we studied routinely use this powerful source of influence. For example, when Dr. Don Berwick and IHI try to influence the behavior of hundreds of thousands of physicians across the United States, they first engage the guilds, as they call them. These are the associations and research groups other physicians look to as credible sources. When the guilds talk, physicians listen.

Similarly, when Dr. Howard Markman tries to influence the communication behavior of couples across the country, he also looks for opinion leaders. He has found that if he trains members of the clergy to teach couples how to solve problems, the results are better than if an unknown outsider in Bermuda shorts swoops into town and offers training.

And how about the Guinea worm disease? Dr. Donald Hopkins and his team don’t consider going into a village without first working with the village chief or drawing on the power of a respected official. From there, the local official or chief identifies respected village members from different groups or clans who will be listened to when they teach people the vital behaviors required to eradicate Guinea worm disease. Imagine what would happen if Hopkins recruited a person of no social standing to carry a lifesaving message that challenges old beliefs and norms. Such a person would probably be discounted in a heartbeat.

“The message,” Hopkins reports, “is no more important than the messenger.”

Interestingly, the power of opinion leaders is available even when you don’t have real opinion leaders. The TV and radio heroes we referred to earlier become opinion leaders. For example, in the village of Lutsaan, India, a community action group made a solemn covenant to educate their daughters after listening to the wildly popular show Tinka, Tinka Sukh (“Happiness Lies in Small Things”). In this poignant TV drama, a beloved young girl dies in childbirth after being forced into an early marriage. After vicariously experiencing her death, audience members wrote over 150,000 letters in reaction to the episode. Listeners were so affected by what happened to the young girl that 184 Lutsaan villagers placed their thumbprints on a large public poster in honor of their fallen heroine in a gesture of solidarity and support.

“Of course I will not marry off my daughter before she turns 18,” one listener told Dr. Arvind Singhal, who was commissioned to study the effects of the serial drama. “Prior to listening to Tinka, Tinka Sukh, I had it in my mind that I need to marry off my daughter soon. Now I won’t, and I tell others as well.”

Since Tinka, Tinka Sukh always featured an epilogue during which a respected person from the community asked questions, made a call to action, and encouraged public discourse, the show made double use of opinion leaders. The comments from the respected figure combined with the actions of the beloved characters made excellent use of social support as a means of promoting change.

To see how to work with opinion leaders, independent of other influence strategies, let’s take a look at what Mao Zedong did 48 years ago. A terrible human being in most respects, Mao understood a thing or two about leveraging social influence to accomplish a bit of good.

On June 26, 1965, Mao lit a fire under the Chinese Ministry of Health, citing its poor record in improving health practices in the far-flung rural regions of China. Rather than wait for the stodgy ministry and medical institutions to solve the problem, Chairman Mao engaged 1.8 million change agents in the cause.

When deciding who would make up his population of change agents, he didn’t go with existing health specialists. Instead, Mao zeroed in on locals who came from the villages they were to serve, who were recommended by their peers, who were committed to serving the people, and who had a basic level of formal schooling, which put them close to their fellow villagers but slightly above them in education. In short, Mao chose opinion leaders.

These “barefoot doctors,” as they were later called, were given just a few months of medical training that covered basic preventive practices that could quickly and significantly improve public health in rural areas. They also learned how to treat the most common maladies. And to reduce risk, they were taught to refer more difficult cases to commune hospitals.

The results were immediate and dramatic. Health-related habits in rural villages improved overnight. Villagers adopted practices such as observing basic hygiene and boiling water; and they adopted these practices much faster than predicted. Mao broke from his traditional methods and didn’t issue unilateral commands or create harsh policies because he knew they wouldn’t have had much effect in rural China. Instead, he coupled support from the top with the actions of on-the-ground opinion leaders.

Rogers’s discovery offers enormous leverage to leaders, parents, and the general population alike. When it comes to creating change, you no longer have to worry about influencing everyone at once. If you preside over a company with 10,000 employees, your job is to find the 500 or so opinion leaders who are the key to everyone else. If you supervise 20 people, odds are 2 or 3 of them hold more sway over the team than others. Spend disproportionate time with them. Listen to their concerns. Build trust with them. Be open to their ideas. Rely on them to share your ideas, and you’ll gain a source of influence unlike any other.

You don’t get to decide whether or not you engage the help of opinion leaders. By definition, they will always be engaged.

They always observe and judge your influence strategy—that’s what they do. Then they will give your ideas either a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down. And since they’re respected and connected, they will exert their widely felt influence and decide the destiny of your influence strategy—whether you like it or not.

If you’re interested in engaging opinion leaders in a large organization, the good news is that finding them is quite easy. Since opinion leaders are employees who are most admired and connected to others in the organization, simply ask people to make a list of the employees who they believe are the most influential and respected. Then gather the lists and identify those who are named most frequently. These are the opinion leaders. Once you know who they are, enlist them and partner with them in your efforts to institute change.

Create New Norms

We once asked the crusty old warden of one of the most fearsome prisons in the world what he knew about influence. Here was a man who wielded more power within the walls of his institution than most anyone on earth. He had hundreds of armed guards at his command. He could detain, restrain, and shackle men at will. We asked him, “What’s the fastest way to get people to change their behavior?” Without hestitating he answered, “Laugh at them.”

There was deep wisdom in the warden’s response. As we’ve seen in this chapter, small social cues (and laugher certainly fits in this category) can have a powerful effect on human choices—even to the point of driving most of us to ignore our moral sensibilities. A guy in a white lab coat simply saying “The experiment requires that you continue” is practically irresistible.

But why? Because embedded in that innocuous statement is a potent message. The message is, “compliance is normal.” The warden understood that derisive laughter is one of the most efficient ways to let people know they aren’t normal. The shame we feel when we’re laughed at can deter us from repeating a behavior—good or bad—ever again.

This being the case, it should be of little surprise to anyone to learn that one of the greatest barriers to any change project lies in unhealthy norms. When behavior that you see as bad is seen as normal behavior to everyone else, you’re in trouble. Deep trouble. You can muster every other source of influence to resist long-standing norms—but you’re still likely to fail in your effort to create change unless you take direct action to create a new sense of normal.

But there’s good news in this as well. Once you foster new norms, change becomes almost inevitable—raising the question: How do you create new norms? We’ll suggest two methods.

1. Make the undiscussable discussable.

2. Create 200 percent accountability.

Make the Undiscussable Discussable. Unhealthy norms are almost always sustained by what we call a culture of silence. You’ve probably been in one at one point or another in your life. Most people know that current behaviors carry an enormous cost—but no one talks about the issue.

For example, we found a terrible code of silence when conducting a multiyear study of healthcare in the United States, Thailand, Australia, and the United Kingdom. We began this particular study to discover why hundreds of thousands of patients contract infections while in the hospital* That can’t be good.

When we asked neonatology nurses and doctors how infections find their way into the pristine environment of a neonatal unit, people would lower their voices, look both ways, and then relate very similar stories. First was the story of the physician who would periodically fail to gown up, glove up, or wash up as he or she should. The second story was of a nurse who, when starting an IV on a very tiny baby, would clip a finger out of his or her sterile glove to expose a fingertip. The nurse had a good reason for doing this; it’s extremely hard to find a vein on a baby who can fit in the palm of your hand. Nevertheless, exposing the finger was an egregious violation of safety practices—a violation that helped spread infections to vulnerable babies.

Let’s not lose the point here. The problem in this particular hospital was not merely that a doctor or nurse broke rules. The problem was that there was a conspiracy of silence held in place by powerful norms that kept people from speaking when colleagues violated hygiene, safety, or any other protocol. The existing social norm called for silence. In these hospitals the norm was “deferring to power players (like doctors or nurse managers) is more important than protecting patients.”

Nothing could ever change in these organizations until the norm changed. In this case, the code of silence had to be broken. Once again: The fundamental problem was not that powerful people broke rules. The insurmountable barrier to improving safety was the widely shared norm of silence that sustained the problem. If you can’t talk about it, you can’t change it. And nobody talks about it.

If you’re reading these examples but not wearing hospital greens, you’re still not off the hook. We poked around in every type of organization imaginable, and we have found this same code of silence that sustains unhealthy behavior in every corner of business and government. For instance, we conducted an international study of project management where we explored the colossal failure rates of major high-stakes projects, programs, and initiatives. * Going in we knew that the vast majority of product launches, reorganizations, mergers, and improvement initiatives either fail or grossly disappoint. In all, roughly 90 percent of major projects violate their own schedules, budgets, or quality standards.

So we searched for the cause behind these embarrassing results. At first we learned that 88 percent of those we surveyed were currently working on projects or initiatives that they predicted would eventually fail—yet they continued to plod along. Most agreed that the expression that best described the state of their current project was “a slow-motion train wreck.”

Then we learned the reason behind the reason: fewer than 1 in 10 respondents said that it was politically acceptable to speak openly about what was going wrong. Most suggested that problems such as weak sponsorship, unreasonable constraints, or uncommitted team members were eventually going to kill their efforts, but they said that no one—including the project managers themselves—could bring the issues out into the open.

So, what’s the first step to changing norms? It’s breaking the code of silence around the problem that always sustains the status quo. When you make the undiscussable discussable, you openly embrace rather than fight the power of social influence. Changes in behavior must be preceded by changes in the public discourse.

To see how to take this first step toward creating new norms, let’s return to the Indian village of Lutsaan and revisit the mechanism through which the radio drama Tinka, Tinka Sukh affected public opinion. And although it’s true that the villagers weren’t facing hospital infections or failed projects, they did run into a powerful social norm that caused many of them great pain, and their problem was also completely undiscussable.

In one of the Tinka, Tinka Sukh story lines, a beloved character was not allowed an education, she was forced to marry young, and she died in childbirth. As a result of the poignant episodes, the listeners in the village of Lutsaan were propelled to find a way to change the long-held practice of marrying young. But what actually brought about this tremendous change in norms? According to Dr. Arvind Singhal, the power of the show stemmed from its ability to force an undiscussable topic into the public discourse. Long-settled beliefs were suddenly opened to question and discussed at every corner, workstation, and shop—and eventually reshaped.

Before the airing of the episodes, millions of people had placed pressure on their friends, children, and coworkers to continue to honor the traditions of their past. This was peer pressure at its strongest. Some people had already changed their views on the treatment of young girls, but it was difficult for them to share their differing views openly without falling victim to public ridicule for not honoring their past. Many people were uncertain about the tradition and wanted to be able to talk it through, but once again, it just wasn’t done.

Influencers applied the power of stories (vicarious experience) to the issue. They didn’t preach the evils of the traditional treatment of girls because, as we all know, verbal persuasion typically leads to resistance. But the practitioners didn’t back away either. Instead, they created a serial drama containing likable characters who talked about the social problem in the privacy of their home—while thousands listened in. The beloved family discussed the pros and cons of the tradition, and each show ended with the words of a respected narrator who merely asked questions.

As the radio family experienced its tragedy, family members began talking. They helped others first think about the issues and then talk about them with their friends, coworkers, neighbors, and family. As a result, the topic moved from the dark into the light. An undiscussable became a discussable, and what had remained underground for centuries wilted in the light of public discourse.

We’ve seen the same strategy work to reshape norms in organizations. For example, in one world-renowned academic hospital, leaders were struggling to engage their legendary physician leaders in improving the quality of patient care. Most seemed focused on learning about disease but seemed to care little about treating diseased people. And yet no one would admit it publicly.

This all changed one weekend when we presented the chief medical officer with a stack of 50 patient horror stories we had collected. She told us later, “When I returned home Friday night, I poured myself a glass of wine, sat in my reading chair, and read the first story. Three hours and 50 stories later I was emotionally overcome.”

Beginning Monday morning, what had formerly been undiscussable became widely discussed. The stories were shared, read, and studied. What had been formerly only whispered was now openly debated. As the chief medical officer broke the code of silence—her formerly complacent organization took the first determined step toward change.

If you want to change an old norm, you have to talk about the old norm. You have to talk about the new norm. You have to talk.

Create 200 Percent Accountability. To introduce the second step to creating new norms, let’s return to the influence lesson taught to us by the prison warden. “The fastest way to get people to change,” he said, “is to laugh at them.” While we don’t ascribe to public ridicule as a reasonable source of influence, we have found that the pace of change is determined by the speed with which you can get everyone to hold everyone accountable (in ways other than poking fun or laughing). Whether through encouragement of the right behavior, confronting the wrong behavior, or a combination of the two, the strength of new norms is dependent on the consistency with which people are willing to speak up and defend them.

No one knows—or shows—this better than, Dr. Mimi Silbert. It’s semester break at Delancey Street. All 500 residents in the San Francisco location have gathered in the family room where they quietly jostle and joke with one another. There’s an air of excitement. After all, it’s graduation day. This means that some of the residents are about to advance to more responsible positions. Others will move to a new job, and some will earn their GEDs. Even greenies may be ready to graduate from maintenance, where the requirements are pretty basic. But the accomplishment will be no less celebrated than that of the person who is about to receive a college degree—as a number will.

So here the residents sit, waiting for graduation to begin. Those who haven’t been through the ceremony before look terribly uncomfortable. They know they will be singled out in front of 499 of their peers, and they have no clue how to deal with the moment. Then before you know it, their names are called. They stand up and are told that they have graduated from maintenance. They have done good work and are now assigned to food services. Congratulations!

All of a sudden new residents hear a sound that has never before been directed at them. They stumble forward to be acknowledged as they experience the most pleasurable wave of discomfort they’ve ever felt. Everyone is clapping for them.

“It’s the most wonderful time,” says Silbert. “They’re crying. Huge clapping. You’ll see this huge guy who doesn’t know what to do with his arms because he’s so uncomfortable. And it’s the best thing in the world.”

So what’s going on here? Silbert knows how to gain an upper hand over her number one enemy. Previously enacted illegal, immoral, and antisocial behavior required a strong social system to support it. Criminals run in packs. The distinctly different and healthy behavior that Delancey will demand of each new resident will require an equally strong social system. So that’s precisely what Silbert serves up. Delancey immerses residents in nothing short of a whole new culture composed of healthy expectations.

This means that from day one residents are hit by an unrelenting wave of social praise and social punishment. Remember, one of Delancey’s vital behaviors calls for everyone to challenge everyone—and residents do. Silbert has gone to great pains to structure positive and negative peer feedback into every moment of everyday life. And since frequent and crystal-clear feedback comes from people who have lived the same life, it’s hard for new residents to dismiss the data.

Part of Delancey’s enormous force for change stems from the fact that there are 20 to 30 formal and informal leaders who know everything that’s going on with each resident. “If your mom died,” says Delancey resident James, “others learn about it, and all are saying, ‘Are you okay?’ We’re all checking on each other all the time. If we don’t watch out for each other in all regards, we’ll go down.”

Powered by an incessant wave of positive and negative feedback from people who matter a great deal to them, Delancey residents find that change is the path of least resistance. That’s why 90 percent of those who graduate from Silbert’s community stick with the changes they’ve made for the rest of their lives.

And yet it would be easy to escape the tendrils of the new culture. All the ex-cons need to do is walk out the door.

There’s nothing to stop anyone from exiting; the locks keep people out, not in. But a strange, new, and powerfully magnetic pull draws residents into their new social network. For the first time in their lives, these former drug dealers, gang members, and thieves belong to a group of people who care about their long-term well-being. Sure, residents receive more direction than they’re used to, and it’s often served up pretty gruffly, but it always comes with their best interest in mind. And when residents hit their daily and weekly goals, they’re embraced and praised.

Best of all, for the first time in their lives Delancey residents belong to a social unit that promotes pro-social behavior. Previous colleagues (usually gang members) wanted something from them, not for them, and they continually propelled them away from everyday society and into the hostile confines of state and federal prisons. Their new friends are real friends, rather than accomplices. They’re hell-bent on shaping their coresidents into healthy people who can make it on the outside.

So here’s a key to Mimi’s success. Ensure that everyone understands that they are not just 100 percent accountable—but 200 percent accountable. Create an environment in which everyone is responsible not just to enact the vital behaviors—but to hold others accountable for them as well. When this happens, people make personal transformations that are hard to believe.

But the relevance of this concept extends far beyond the doors of Delancey. We saw it in action in Burkina Faso. It was pivotal in Boston. It’s fundamental in Thailand—and everywhere in between. How do you get villagers to eradicate Guinea worm? By encouraging all of them to hold every neighbor accountable for staying away from public water supplies when they are infected. How do you get hand hygiene rates in a hospital from 50 percent to 100 percent? Get everyone to confront anyone who doesn’t follow policy. How do you save millions of lives from AIDS in Thailand? Get everyone in the brothel—starting with the managers and opinion leaders—to hold others accountable to 100 percent condom use.

Old norms begin to fall when influencers bring the hidden costs of bad habits into the bright light of public discourse—for the first time. New norms take hold the instant people begin to defend them. When a critical mass of people practice 200 percent accountability, change is all but assured.

SUMMARY: SOCIAL MOTIVATION

People who are respected and connected can exert an enormous amount of influence over any change effort. Under stressful and ambiguous circumstances, a mere glance from someone who is considered to be a respected official can be enough to propel people to act in ways that are hard to imagine. Fortunately, this “power of one” (often viewed as negative) can also be used to encourage pro-social behavior.

When a vital behavior is difficult or unpopular or possibly even questionable, you must lead the way. You must not just talk the talk, you have to walk it as well. However, people aren’t likely to trust your words until you demonstrate your willingness to sacrifice old values for new ones. You’ll need to create visible and believable evidence by sacrificing time, money, ego, and other priorities before people will take similar risks themselves.

While it’s true that you must lead the way, you will also need the support of those who have more immediate contact with those you’re trying to influence. It often takes the support of formal leaders and opinion leaders—to make it safe for people to embrace an innovation. Learn how to identify and partner with these important people. Ignore opinion leaders at your own peril.

Finally, sometimes change efforts call for changes in widely shared norms. You can do this in two ways. First, go public. You can’t change norms without discussing them. Detractors will often suggest that it’s inappropriate to hold such an open discourse, and they may even go so far as to suggest that the topic is undiscussable. Ignore those who seek silence instead of healthy dialogue. Make it safe to talk about high-stakes and controversial topics—including concerns about any proposed changes.

Second, to create new norms, invite everyone to hold everyone else accountable. Lead the way by praising and critiquing the presence or absence of vital behaviors. Enlist formal leaders and opinion leaders in doing the same. And ultimately create a widely shared norm of 200 percent accountability—where everyone is responsible not just to practice the new behaviors—but to communicate clear expectations to everyone they touch.

Remember, social influence—the deeply felt desire to be accepted, respected, and connected to other human beings—really pulls at human heartstrings. It often sits at the top of the heap of all sources of influence. Consequently, whether you’re a manager, parent, or coach, it doesn’t matter. The problem you’re facing doesn’t matter. Learn how to tap into the power of social influence, and you can change just about anything.

*For a full report of the healthcare study, visit www.silencekills.com.

*For a full report, visit www.silencefails.com.

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