I took a bribe

It’s confession time. Let me share with you the bribe’s source and amount, and the favour I did in return for it. Let me also tell you why I did what I did.

Last week a courier brought in a large envelope. When I opened it, a dollar bill popped out. A genuine American dollar. There was also a fat, eight-page questionnaire with a cover note from The Economist. The letter, addressed to me by name (I’m a regular subscriber) appealed to me to participate in their comprehensive, once-in-four-years reader survey. It would take nothing less than forty minutes to answer the numerous questions in a small font size.

Towards the end of the letter was a reference to the dollar bill. Of course it was not payment for the valuable time I would spare for answering the questions, said the writer. It’s just a token of their appreciation. Perhaps I could donate it to a charity.

I felt annoyed. I had simply deleted two e-mail requests for taking the same survey online during the past two months. Four years ago I had participated in their equally comprehensive survey without any incentives. I didn’t want to do it again.

But what to do with the dollar bill? Keep it? Post it back to The Economist? Did I want to invest my time and effort and money to tell the writer that I didn’t like what they did, and here was their dollar bill? Was there any guarantee that the dollar bill would actually get back to the person who had signed the letter?

What if I kept the dollar, but didn’t answer the questionnaire? What if I gave it away? What if I threw it into the waste bin? Whatever I did, for the writer of the letter I would be one of those who took the money but didn’t answer the questionnaire. A sense of obligation started growing within me. So finally I kept the dollar and spent nearly an hour answering all the questions.

Why did I behave the way I did? I suddenly remembered the rule of reciprocation that Robert Cialdini talks about in his Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion. Quoting the example of the Hare Krishna volunteers in the US (who give you a small gift before asking you for a donation), he shows that even when you don’t like the gift-giver, you feel obliged to give something in return. And what you give is generally of much greater value than what you have received. Traders make use of this brilliantly. How many of us can walk away without buying anything from a bakery after tasting free samples of cookies?

It’s pretty easy to reject a commercial proposal that doesn’t interest us. It’s not so easy to reject a gift even if we don’t like the person offering it. Somehow it appears rude to do that. And once we accept a gift, we feel restless until the balance is restored in our favour.

Why do I use the word bribe for the dollar that I accepted? Partly because it’s not at all a payment for the service I rendered to The Economist. But it’s mainly because it reminded me of what happens when you are offered a bribe in the guise of a gift. You didn’t ask for it, and the giver doesn’t make any demands. You, however, feel obliged to return the favour. If the gift-giver later asks you for a favour that is not illegal, it is difficult to say no. He has persuaded you to do what you would otherwise have not done.