Power persuades!

Rose Nisenbaum had an emergency fund of $400 in her bank account. She had built up that fortune over a lifetime of careful saving. She needed part of the funds urgently, but the bank wouldn’t let her withdraw any. It was during the worst stage of the Great Depression in the US and the banks had instructions to stop people from withdrawing money.

When all her efforts and pleadings failed, she decided to write to Franklin Roosevelt, President of the United States. Members of her family were amused. It was silly to appeal to the president when the banks had strict orders against disbursing cash. Who in the White House was going to bother about the letter from a poor old woman? They asked her to accept the reality and wait until the conditions improved.

She didn’t listen to such wise advice. She wrote to the president. Everyone was shocked when, eight weeks later, she got a response from the White House. She was asked to take a sealed letter, enclosed with the one she received, to her bank.

She promptly took the White House envelope to her bank. It was closed so she rapped on the window and signalled to the manager to let her in. He wouldn’t. He knew very well what she wanted and there was no way he was going let her withdraw cash. He tried to wave her off.

Nisenbaum didn’t go away. She pressed the envelope against the glass pane. Seeing the White House insignia on the envelope, the manager let her in, read the letter to the bank, and promptly allowed her to withdraw cash from her account.

This is based on an account by Hilary Leila Krieger, “Reaching for the Jewish Vote,” in The Jerusalem Post (Israel) of Feb 9, 2012. (Accessed via wordsmith.org/words)

Rose Nisenbaum is admirable. In the face of ridicule and in the absence of any assurance of success she wrote to the president of the United States and got her job done. It is truly impressive. But what caught my attention is the power of the White House insignia on the envelope that she pressed against the window pane. When that was combined with the confidence and determination on her face, the manager was readily persuaded to open the door and let her in. Authority sells!

I have been reading in the local newspapers several stories in recent weeks about fake cops. The cheats appear in police uniform in different parts of the city and it’s pretty easy for them to persuade ordinary folks to do just about anything including parting with their cash and jewellery for ‘safekeeping.’ The uniform does the persuasion. Many people don’t even try to check their identity cards. Of course, the impostors are likely to come well equipped with fake ID cards too.

Symbols of power and authority – even empty ones – seem to have high levels of persuasive power.

Resisting Pressure - IIMA Style

IIMA turned fifty yesterday, December 11, 2010. About fifty professors who had taught here during the 1960s, ‘70s and ‘80s came to attend the launch of the golden jubilee year. It was wonderful to hear several of them reminisce about their experience during the formative years of the Institute. Quite a few of them had worked with the truly inspiring and visionary founding fathers: Vikram Sarabhai, Kasturbhai Lalbhai, and Ravi Matthai. 

The retired professors spoke about several things that moulded the Institute’s culture that helped it become the leader and stay at the top year after year. But what struck me most was an incident narrated by Professor VS Vyas, who was the director from 1977 to 1982. He received a telephone call from a senior official in the Prime Minister’s office. He was told that he should admit to the PGP a Prince from the Royal family in a neighbouring country. [Professor Vyas didn’t name the country during his speech, but I guess it was Nepal. Which other neighbouring country had a king?]

The Prince had not taken the Institute’s admission test. Professor Vyas said it was not possible to admit any student who had not taken the Institute’s admission test and qualified himself. The official said that denying admission to the Prince would have diplomatic complications and hurt the country’s interests.  He insisted that IIMA admit the Prince.

When reasoning did not succeed, Professor Vyas said that for a decision on an issue like this he would have to consult the faculty and the board. So he asked the official to send him a formal letter asking him to admit the Prince to the PGP and explaining why. The official promised to send it, but never did. So the problem went away.

What enabled Professor Vyas to withstand the pressure from the Prime Minister’s office? What were its consequences? Is there a lesson in it for us?

Standing up to the political masters is far from easy for the Director of any institution that depends almost completely on the government for funding. But two things helped Professor Vyas do it. First, the founding fathers had secured for the Institute an unusually high degree of autonomy right from the beginning. There had not been any instance of the Institute caving in under pressure from anyone in the government. Second, Professor Vyas was willing to face the consequences (possibly, loss of his director’s position) of doing what he believed was right. Each such act of resistance contributes to a reputation which acts as a shield against coercion.

When Professor Vyas couldn’t stop the pressure on his own, he decided to involve his colleagues and board. This is an excellent strategy because it gives an individual tremendous power. Many bullies would not dare confront a group.

It is interesting that the official from the Prime Minister’s office never sent a formal letter requesting admission for the Prince. Obviously, he was trying to use his positional power informally while subtly implying that he was doing it on behalf of the Prime Minister. He didn’t want to leave any trace of his request because he knew it was unjustifiable. The Prime Minister was probably unaware of this although the call came from his office.

Many managers allow themselves to be persuaded far too easily to bend and break rules when all that is required is a little bit of courage to say what they really believe in. They emasculate themselves and their departments making it harder for everyone else to resist unwanted or unreasonable requests.

An Unnecessary Death

I am amazed at the absence of resistance to persuasion in the following true story recreated from newspaper reports.

The dead body of 22-year-old Priyanka Ramanuj, a first year MBA student, was picked up from a sewage canal between Ahmedabad and Gandhinagar on October 24, 2010. The young woman had been missing since October 21. That evening she had called her brother to say that she was still in the library and would be late to get home. Soon after, her cellphone was switched off. There were no further calls from her.

The post-mortem examination confirmed that the death was caused by drowning because water had entered the lungs. There were no signs of rape or injuries pointing to an assault. The police started investigating the case assuming that it was a suicide or an accidental death although they did not rule out murder.

Priyanka had been engaged to Mahendra Sadhu, an engineering student and the son of a local builder and political leader. Both the families had been waiting for them to complete their studies, marry, and settle down. Both the families asserted that Priyanka was not the kind that would commit suicide and that it was a clear case of murder by someone who knew her. A shallow sewage canal was hardly the place where a healthy young woman would get drowned. But no one could point a finger at anyone who would want to kill her. Mahendra’s father Chandu Sadhu suspected that one of his many political enemies was the killer.

In five days the police cracked the case building on certain Facebook messages. The woman had been murdered by her fiancé, Mahendra, with the help of his friend, Hardik Gohil. They admitted to the police that on the evening of October 21, they met Priyanka and persuaded her to lie to her brother that she was still in the library nearly an hour after she had left the college premises. They told her that they wanted to give her a surprise. All three got into Mahendra’s car and went for a long drive. 

During the drive they gave her a soft drink mixed with a sedative. Once she was unconscious, Mahendra made several calls to Priyanka’s cellphone and then switched it off. Then they drove to Drive-In Cinema, parked the car there, and used a cushion to smother her. They drove out, and assuming that she was dead, dumped the body in a sewage canal. They called Priyanka’s brother and told him that Priyanka was not picking up his repeated calls.

They thought that they had pulled off a smart murder. They had the perfect alibi. On the evening of October 21, they were watching a film at Drive-In Cinema and they tried repeatedly to call her until she switched off her cellphone.

More background information surfaced during the investigation.

Son of a rich builder-politician, Mahendra had a flat, a car, and a lot of cash to spend. He spent lavishly on his friends. Hardik Gohil, his closest and long-term friend, was a beneficiary of his largesse.

Priyanka had been engaged to a doctor; it was called off in 2008. Her father Chandrakant Ramanuj was working as chief engineer to Mahindra’s father Chandu Sadhu.

Mahendra had an affair with a classmate (Disha Dave), which ended in 2009 when she moved with her parents to Dubai. He was dejected. Chandu Sadhu suggested to Chandrakant Ramanuj that if Mahendra and Priyanka married, it would be good for both of them. Ramanuj agreed; Priyanka and Mahendra got engaged at a grand function. They used to meet occasionally. There did not appear to be any problem between them.

Mahendra, however, got in touch with Disha on Facebook and their relationship was rekindled. She came to Ahmedabad during Navratri in October 2010. Mahendra managed to spend eight out of the nine evenings with her. Priyanka didn’t know or suspect anything.

Mahendra wanted to marry Disha.  So he asked Hardik to persuade Priyanka to break off the engagement. To find out quietly how Priyanka would react, Hardik joked with her and asked what she would do if Mahindra broke off the engagement and married another girl. She said she didn’t have the heart to go through yet another engagement.

Both Mahendra and Hardik concluded that getting rid of Priyanka was the only way out of the sticky situation.

[True story reconstructed from news reports that appeared in the Ahmedabad edition of DNA and the Times of India between October 25 and 31, 2010.]