Rajesh Khanna’s (un)lucky home

What is the secret of Rajesh Khanna’s miraculous rise to unparalleled superstardom in the 1970s? No one knows. According to a July 24 Mumbai Mirror report, “Aashirwad was haunted,” however, the actor knew. It was because of the bungalow he had bought from fellow actor Rajendra Kumar.

The sea-facing bungalow on Carter Road had had a terrible reputation. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew it was haunted. Naturally, there were no buyers although the owner was willing to sell it below cost. That is when Rajendra Kumar bought it in the 1960s for just Rs 60,000 because he couldn’t afford anything better. Once he moved into the house, however, there was an inexplicable change in his fortunes. Every film in which he starred succeeded at the box office; he became ‘Jubilee Kumar.’ Rajesh Khanna was closely watching this success story from the sidelines. He believed that if he moved into the house he would be equally successful.

Rajendra Kumar did not seem to have attributed his spectacular success to the bhoot bungalow which he named Dimple, after his daughter. That is why, once he made enough money, he got a bungalow built at Pali Hill and moved there.

Rajesh Khanna bought the Carter Road bungalow and moved in. He knew success would follow him. And he was right. Every film he touched turned to gold. He got everything an actor could dream of – millions of adoring fans, astronomical fees, superstardom... 15 super hits in a row. All because of the lucky house.

Rajesh Khanna was sure of the role his house played in his miraculous rise. We don’t know if he changed his mind when, staying in the same house, he lost everything including his family. Perhaps he didn’t change his mind; he explained his reverses away as a temporary setback. Perhaps he believed that he would soar back to astrosphere where ownership and occupation of the Carter Road bungalow had taken him.

What has one’s house to do with one’s professional success or failure? Plenty if you believe that there is a causal link.

Was Rajesh Khanna superstitious? Do we have such superstitions influencing decision-making in the corporate world?

We are all superstitious. But we make a distinction. Our beliefs are well founded beliefs; others’ beliefs are silly superstitions. Our beliefs vary, but our faith in the validity of our beliefs stays strong.

Our personal and professional actions are anchored around our beliefs although, unlike Rajesh Khanna, we are reluctant to admit the link. That doesn’t take away our resistance when ideas that are at variance with our belief system are proposed. We are likely to give a perfectly logical reason why the idea should not be adopted, but the real reason is that it goes against our hidden beliefs. 


Photo credit: http://www.istockphoto.com/

The persuasive power of the unknown

I eagerly opened the envelope the postman brought home the other day. Out came a leaflet. It was the photocopy of what appeared to be an advertisement in a newspaper. The sender didn't identify himself or herself. The text, which was in Malayalam, fascinated me. Let me give you a rough translation.

There was a miracle at Vailankanni. [This, as you may know, is a coastal town in Tamil Nadu. St Mary's shrine there attracts hundreds of thousands of pilgrims from different religions and regions every year.] One Sunday Mother Mary appeared in the form of a child to a devotee and said, “I will come back to earth shortly to do penance for [others’] sins. Inform everyone. Anyone who distributes 1000 copies of this announcement will have his wish fulfilled in fifteen days. Those who don't act on it immediately will suffer a great deal within twenty-two days.” Then she disappeared.

One Mumbai resident who heard about this got 1000 copies of this announcement printed and distributed. As a result, he got Rs 6.8 million. A rikshaw driver distributed 850 copies, and he got a small pot of gold. An unemployed youth distributed 500 copies of this leaflet and found a job in a few days. Another man tore up the leaflet he received saying it was humbug. Within three days his son died. […]

Therefore, please publicise this information by distributing leaflets so that everyone can get Mother Mary's blessings.

From a believer

I tossed it into the waste bin. Then I picked it up. I felt it deserved to be examined carefully for lessons in persuasion.

 Whoever sent it to me was persuaded to do so either because of fear of harm or of hope of good fortune or perhaps a combination of both. Or is someone playing it safe? Whatever it is, what is the basis of such a strong blend of emotions? Why would anyone believe stories like these? There are no names, no dates, no addresses if you want to check what happened (if anything happened at all). How can anyone accept a causal link between someone’s decision not to circulate an anonymous leaflet and a death in the family? Why, then, do people lose their common sense and circulate such ridiculous stuff? The persuasive power of the unknown is so strong that even a mention is enough for many of us to comply with its apparent wishes. If you are scared of snakes, even a paper snake can make you run.

Unlike forwarding an email to everyone in one's address book, making photocopies of an announcement, putting it in hundreds of envelopes, writing genuine addresses on these envelopes, sticking stamps and posting them cost a believer time and money. Why would he/she do it? How about the first person who started this chain? Was he/she a believer? A prankster? What did he/she get out of it?

For me, this is another instance of emotions firmly establishing their supremacy over reason. 

Photo credit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Velankanni_Town

Sweet vine, bitter berries

Today let me retell a true story that Mallika Sarabhai brought to our notice last Sunday (“Where can this woman be safe?” DNA Ahmedabad edition, October 30, 2011, page 4).

Urmila (not her real name), a married woman with a young  son, was working in the HR department a prestigious teaching hospital in Ahmedabad. She was happy with her work. Everything was going well for her.

At work she bumped into a doctor who worked for the Chief Justice of Gujarat. He was not only from her caste but also from her village. The occasional chat with him gave her joy in the otherwise sombre atmosphere of the hospital. Soon the doctor friend would often come around at the end of the work day and offer her a ride home. She had no hesitation in accepting this favour. They could chat on the drive home. Once in a while they would stop on the way for an ice cream. This was beautiful. Urmila was grateful for his warmth and selfless friendship.

One evening the doctor offered a ride as usual, but asked her whether she would mind if he stopped at a friend’s place for a few minutes to drop off something. Of course she didn’t mind. The doctor’s friend, a man, opened the door and invited them in. He gave her a glass of juice and asked her to make herself comfortable in the sitting room while the two men went in to another room for a discussion.

Urmila doesn’t recall anything that happened in that house after that. By the time she was dropped off outside her house a few hours later, she had just woken up from a deep sleep. She found it strange but said nothing about it to anyone.

The following day the doctor friend met her at work as usual and said that he had a surprise for her. She was eager to know what it was. He whipped out his cellphone and showed her a picture. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She looked again. The picture showed her performing oral sex on him. “Now you are in my hands,” gloated the doctor.

Urmila felt sick, violated, frightened. Somehow she got home. She stayed in bed for several days. Her husband and son were puzzled but had no clue.

The doctor friend called Urmila one morning and asked her to get back to the hospital and to ‘service’ a friend of his. She obliged.  She felt she had no choice. This went on for a few months. Then she quit the job.

Finally she picked up enough courage to bring together her family and close friends. She told them what happened. They were horrified but sympathetic. They decided to approach the police and to lodge a formal complaint.

You can read the rest of the story – the denial of justice – in Mallika Sarbahai’s column. I would like to focus on how deftly the doctor used persuasion techniques for his admittedly evil plans.

Readers, would you like to write in your comments and analysis? I’ll give my views in next week’s post.

Photo credit: http://www.istockphoto.com/

Vinod Mehta’s Googly

Vinod Mehta, Editor-in-chief of Outlook recalls (Delhi Diary, October 17, 2011) how he managed to get a full-length interview with Mansur Ali  Khan Pataudi - Tiger Pataudi - in 1974. It has some interesting lessons in persuasion.

Mehta had just taken over the fledgling men’s magazine Debonair as its editor-in-chief.  He was desperate to get a Playboy-type interview that would make the centrepiece of his launch issue. He knocked on many doors; none opened.

He tried to telephone Tiger Pataudi.  But the folks around the star cricketer wouldn’t put him through. Desperate, Mehta “wrote him a begging letter.” What made the begging persuasive was his admiring reference to Pataudi’s extraordinary performance on the cricket field. Mehta wrote that he had seen him score a century in both the innings against Yorkshire. He pointedly referred to the way Pataudi had battered Fred Trueman.

Photo credit: http://photogallery.outlookindia.com

The letter was magical. Mehta got an immediate reply and an invitation to Pataudi’s flat in Mumbai.

The story doesn’t end there. Mehta knew that Pataudi was fond of 555 cigarettes.  Mehta also knew that for someone like Tiger Pataudi, getting 555 was no big deal even in the Socialist 1970s. Still, Mehta “carried a tin” of Tiger’s favourite cigarettes.

Once he had a full-length interview with the cricketing great, Mehta says he had “much less difficulty persuading the great and the good to cooperate.”

Let’s look at the lessons.

First, no one is above persuasion. Heroes who are idolised by millions of people are human beings. They have human feelings. Even those who easily detect flattery and detest it have difficulty resisting the power of genuine admiration. If we study our targets well and frame our proposals appropriately, we should be able to persuade them. But we often give up even before trying. Or we use a frame that is convenient for us rather than appropriate for the target.

Second, gestures touch us. Mehta knew the value of maintaining relationships. The gift of 555 cigarettes after the interview is a testimony to the editor’s ability in this department. A great deal of persuasion is born out of relationships. Maintain them through gestures that touch the heart of the targets.

Third, Mehta used his big catch to persuade others, who were earlier unwilling to do anything for his venture.

None of the techniques of persuasion Mehta employed were extraordinary. What is extraordinary is the way he used ordinary techniques to persuade a star.

The King and I

I am sorry to disappoint you if you thought I was Deborah Kerr playing Anna Leonowens with Yul Brynner as the King of Siam. I am an ordinary rabbit. Let me tell you my story although  Aesop has already brought it  to you.

Years ago, there was an arrogant and capricious lion in our forest. He was called King Leo. He would kill all kinds of animals for food. That is quite understandable. After all, Kings and other members of the upper class thrive on the flesh and blood of ordinary folks.

But King Leo would kill mindlessly even when he wasn't hungry. When his atrocities crossed all limits, my brothers and sisters got together to find a way to stop him. Some of hot-blooded youngsters suggested that we kill the wretched predator. The older and wiser ones rubbished such plans.  They said it was easier to catch a cloud than kill a lion.

Finally, we worked out a solution. It was simple. We would send an animal every morning without fail to King Leo's court provided he stopped hunting us mindlessly. This was painful, but there appeared to be no other way to survive. King Leo agreed.

I told my brothers and sisters that this was ridiculous. I'm not surprised that nobody took me seriously. Not even tortoises take rabbits seriously any more.

Finally, it was my turn. I was young and dreaming of raising my own family. I didn't want to be gobbled up. But the elders had given their word. They insisted that I go.

That is when I really thought hard about getting rid of this menace. It was not possible to kill him. I wondered if I could persuade him to kill himself. I analysed King Leo's strengths and weaknesses. He had tremendous power and speed, and the supreme confidence that comes from being King.

He wanted everyone to accept him as King. He wouldn’t tolerate any rivals. I decided to play on it. I sat under a tree for quite some time and arrived late at King Leo's court. He was furiously pacing up and down. Obviously he didn't like to be kept waiting. I ran towards him and pretended to be panting.

King Leo was livid. His dinner was delayed. And that dinner was a tiny rabbit. He would need to eat at least five rabbits to bring down his hunger. He was about to strike me when I cried out tremblingly, “I’m sorry I’m late, but It's not my fault, it's not my fault!” Fortunately, he waited for a moment. Using that little opening, I continued: “There were six of us coming to you; but another big lion stopped us and ate my brothers. I'm the only one that escaped.”

“Don't be silly,” growled King Leo. “I am the Almighty King of this forest. There can't be any King but me.”

“That is what I also thought, your Majesty,” I said. “But this big lion not only ate my brothers up but also said that you were a doddering old impostor.”

“Take me to that b-----d right away,” he roared. I led him to a deep well with a lot of water at the bottom. I told him his rival was in the well. King Leo peered into the well, and he was shocked. He let out a huge roar to frighten the other lion. But he got back a roar that appeared a little louder. He couldn't stand it any longer. He decided to teach his rival a lesson. He jumped into the well. He never got out of it.

I don’t know if King Leo or his ‘rival’ learned any lesson. But I learned something: smart persuasion with brilliant framing can overcome many hurdles that appear insurmountable.

Guilty as Charged

This post is dedicated to a young woman who asked me a series of difficult questions in class recently. I did not answer them to her satisfaction. Or mine.

I thought I would attempt an answer through this post because her questions echo those of many people in the corporate sector. (Another reason of course is that I don't have to look into her disappointed eyes and become tongue-tied.)

Why was I promoting emotion over reason in persuasion attempts? Would this be sensible at all in the data-driven corporate world? Shouldn’t objectivity be the centrepiece of persuasion in the world of business? Wasn’t I going against the well accepted norms of corporate behaviour? She was confused, she said, because she had been brought up to respect facts, logic, and objectivity.

I am guilty as charged. But let me explain.

There is a millennia-old maxim, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach [and loins, if I may add].” It was coined most probably by a smart woman who had observed how easy it was to manage men, even the ones who wielded enormous power.

The maxim’s creator was, possibly unwittingly, pointing to something central about humans, not just about men. Instincts and emotions are far more important than logic and reasoning in decision-making, in spite of our routine chest-thumping about being rational animals.

The heart is the seat of belief, the director of action. You don’t reach it through the head. In fact, the way to a person’s head is through the heart.

Facts, evidence, logic, and objectivity are alluring notions because they appear to be independent of and above the persuader and the target. We have convinced ourselves that in the context of an organisation, these should reign supreme, not the whims and fancies of individuals. Our beliefs and personal preferences are secondary and may be irrelevant in some cases.

But this is a myth. The head is not the heart’s boss but its handmaiden. This is as true in the world of work as at home. Nevertheless this myth thrives as triumphantly as the other myth (created most probably by shrewd women) about men being in control of the affairs of the world.

Facts don't dictate action. What matters is the interpretation of facts or the perception of the significance of those facts. This is where the heart asserts itself. This is where egos rear their heads. This is where biases colour decisions. Even in apparently emotion-free decisions, the framework is created by values and attitudes. But we are good at projecting our decisions as logical, objective, and fact-driven.

If there is a platform of shared values and beliefs, facts and logic work like a breeze. If you provoke the mind when there are no shared values, it becomes belligerent and responds with counterarguments. You may be able to silence someone with arguments, but not persuade him. As Thomas Kuhn demonstrates in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1962, University of Chicago Press), even great scientists cling to their paradigm in spite of mounting evidence that makes it untenable. The whole world can see that they are wrong, but they are not convinced.

Of course, if we build our persuasion on instincts and emotions alone, we cannot go very far. We need reasoning. After all, we are rational animals. Emotions make the mind receptive. This is equally true whether you’re attempting to persuade your data-driven boss at work or your five-year-old daughter at home. 

She strikes while the iron is hot (2)

Ruth’s story illustrates several smart persuasive moves.

Let's start with Ruth’s approach to life. She was bold and risk-taking.  As we have seen in an earlier post, Blessed are the thick-skinned, we need to be a little bold and thick-skinned to be persuasive. If we are not willing to take risks, we may not attempt persuasion in contexts where we are not sure of success.

The story shows that Ruth certainly had initiative. She went to Boaz’s field looking for barley instead of relying on her mother-in-law to provide for her.  She stood out from the workers and other poor women who were gleaning the field. It was obvious to everyone including her that Boaz was treating her differently. One reason may have been the fact that she, being Naomi's daughter-in-law, was a relative.  Another could be that she was attractive. But Boaz didn't take his special interest in her beyond socially approved limits. He didn’t try to exploit her poverty or helplessness as a young widow to satisfy any sexual desires he might have had. Neither did he make any attempt to contact Naomi to explore the possibility of marrying Ruth.

Naomi was monitoring what was going on. Once she noticed Boaz’s behaviour, Naomi waited for the best time for Ruth to strike. This illustrates priming that is required for persuasion to be successful. Priming is nothing but preparing the target in multiple ways for being persuaded.

The priming we notice here had two components. The first was to grow Boaz’s interest in Ruth to the level of desire. Seeing her every day but not getting her would have stoked the fire of desire in him. The second was to choose the most conducive environment for the persuasive move to work. In other words, Naomi wanted to choose a time when any resistance that the target had would be the weakest.

If Naomi wanted Boaz to marry Ruth following the custom of Levirate marriage, we would have expected her to visit him in his house and present her proposal. Naomi realised that taking this standard approach would almost certainly fail. Technically, Boaz was not in the picture at all because he was not the nearest male relative. If he married her, he would have to bring up children in the name of her dead husband, and the property would go to those children. If Boaz looked at the proposal rationally, he would look for another woman without any such conditions rather than a widow. Being rich, he shouldn’t have found it very difficult to find a pretty woman to be his wife. There was no need to marry a widow when he was not required to.

Naomi waited until the end of harvesting. This is the time that farmers feel the happiest. Additionally, she asked Ruth to approach Boaz when he was half asleep after he had a good supper and wine. Ruth had washed and perfumed herself to be even more desirable. Boaz was too stunned to think clearly when he found the sweet-smelling Ruth lying next to him. He couldn’t believe his luck – instead of going to young men she had chosen him. He would be willing to part with anything to have her. And she made her demand clear, upfront. She had not come for a little fun or money; she had come with a proposal under the Levirate marriage custom. Boaz agreed instantly. It’s after committing himself that he realised that he was not the closest male relative. But having committed himself, removing the hurdle was his burden.

The following morning Boaz framed the proposal to his ‘rival’ focusing on the responsibilities of a Levirate marriage. That man was interested in property, but not willing to marry a widow and raise children in her dead husband’s name. For him Ruth was just a poor Moabite widow to be looked after, not a sexy, capable woman that she had grown to be for Boaz. Reason prevailed, and he cleared the way for Boaz.

Ruth ran a big risk by crawling under Boaz’s blanket when he was half asleep on the threshing floor after dining and wining. It could have ended in little more than sex. And obviously any blame for it would have gone to Ruth because she asked for it. This is where Naomi’s strategy comes through as brilliant. It was a calculated risk. If Ruth had offered herself to him soon after she started gleaning his field, it would probably have ended in nothing more than sex. Naomi observed that throughout the harvesting season Boaz had behaved well while taking a keen interest in Ruth.

Some people may be quick to condemn Naomi and Ruth for adopting this route. But we need to remember that in the Jewish society at that time, being a widow without a male heir was the worst curse a woman could have. Also, sex with a man was the only way a woman could become a mother. That the Jews understood and accepted it is clear from the way Ruth has been celebrated in the Bible. 

She strikes while the iron is hot (I)

We don’t know if Ruth was pretty.  We do know that she was bold and risk-taking. She, a Moabite, married a young man from a Jewish family hat had migrated to Moab to escape the drought at Bethlehem, Judah. In a few years tragedy struck. First her father-in-law died and then her own husband, followed by his brother. Difficult to pull on, Naomi, her mother-in-law, decided to return to her own people in Bethlehem.

Poor and unable to give her a good life, Naomi suggested that Ruth go back to her parents, marry again, and live happily.  She flatly refused. She said, “Wherever you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your god my God.” She wanted to accompany Naomi although the future looked bleak.

That’s how Ruth arrived in Bethlehem. Fortunately it was harvest time. As they had to find food, Ruth offered to go and glean some barley fields. It was a custom among the Jews to allow poor people to pick up leftover grains after the reapers had harvested the crop.

Ruth seems to have stood out from the crowd of women in the field she entered because the farm’s owner, Boaz, noticed her and took an instant liking to her. Discreet enquiries with his supervisors revealed that she was a widow, a foreigner, who had chosen to serve Naomi, her old and widowed mother-in-law, rather than stay back in her country and marry again. Boaz realised that he was related to Naomi’s husband. Anyway he became protective towards her. Apart from gifting her extra grains, he asked his workers not to lay a hand on her. He also invited her to eat and drink with the regular workers.

This went on till the end of the harvesting season. That’s when Naomi felt that Ruth should try to marry Boaz. Although middle-aged, he appeared to be an excellent choice because he was rich, decent, and generous.

Like many other tribes and communities, the Jews practised Levirate marriage when a married man died without an heir. The dead man’s brother was expected to be a go’el (kinsman-redeemer), marry the widow, and raise children in the name of the dead man. The dead man’s property also would go to the children of this new union. If there was no brother willing or available to take on this responsibility, the nearest male relative could be asked. Naomi felt that this was the route Ruth should explore although Boaz was not really the nearest male relative.

One evening Naomi told Ruth to wash and perfume herself and put on her best clothes. She added: “I’d like Boaz to be your go’el and marry you. Tonight he will be sleeping on the threshing floor guarding the barley that has been winnowed. Wait until he finishes eating and drinking. Once he’s asleep, quietly crawl under his blanket and lie next to him. Then let him take it forward.”

Ruth did exactly as her mother-in-law asked her to. In the middle of the night Boaz was startled to find a young woman lying next to him. She revealed her identity and whispered, “I am Ruth. Please put your cloak over me as you are my go’el. In plain words, ‘be my man and marry me.’

Boaz instantly agreed. The circumstances were such that perhaps he had little choice. Then he realised that there was a hurdle. There was another man who was more closely related to Naomi’s dead husband. Boaz assured her that he would sort that out the following day. He asked her to lie under the blanket until morning and leave before anyone saw her. The Bible (The Book of Ruth), from which this story is taken, is silent on whether there was anything more than a warm, hushed conversation between the two during the wee hours.

In the morning, Boaz fulfilled his promise. He met the other male relative in the presence of some elders, and presented Ruth’s case in such a way that he got the ‘rival’ out of the way. He married Ruth with the blessings of the community.

Ruth holds a special place in Jewish genealogy because King David was her great grandson.

***   ***   ***

The story of Ruth is probably three millennia old. It illustrates many strategies of smart persuasion. Would you like to identify and comment on them? If you wish to read the original book of Ruth in a modern translation, here is the link.

Blessed are the thick-skinned

Once there was an unjust judge who didn't care about what the public thought of him. He wasn't afraid of God either. He did what he pleased. 

In his city there was a widow. She approached the nasty judge, complained to him about a man who was ill-treating her, and asked for justice. The judge just ignored her. She kept going back to him with the same plea and the judge kept turning her away. Finally, he said to himself, “I am tired of this woman. Even though I don't care about God or public opinion, I will see that she gets justice. I want to stop her from being a nuisance.” The widow gets what she wants.

After narrating this story (chapter 18:1-8, Gospel according to Saint Luke), Jesus asks his audience, “If this is what an unjust judge does, won’t God give justice to his children who cry out to him day and night?” 

I don’t know enough about God’s ways to answer this question with any certainty. But I do know that persistence pays with folks on earth. In fact, a thick skin is often more persuasive than an eloquent tongue when you have no power over your target.

If you want to be persuasive, you need some kind of power to bolster your persuasion attempts. The power could be that of muscle or money. Good looks can be as powerful as fertile brains. If you have popularity, tradition, or the law or on your side, that gives you power, too. If you have no power of any kind over your target, you cannot persuade him because he has nothing to lose by not complying.

In such contexts, a thick skin is the best bet. If we are thin-skinned, there are many disadvantages. First of all, we will hold ourselves back from making many potentially successful persuasion attempts. We are so worried about possible failures that we don’t even want to try. If we pick up enough courage to make a feeble attempt, we give it up as soon as we sense a snub. There are millions of men and women who would have been happy boyfriends and girlfriends or even devoted husbands and wives if they hadn’t taken their first rebuff too seriously and abandoned their wooing efforts.

There are two reasons why persistence backed by a thick skin is persuasive even when we have no power over the target. First, the target would like to avoid the embarrassment or nuisance that persistence generates. The unjust judge didn’t care about what happened to the widow or about what the public thought of him, but he didn’t want her to keep coming to him. He wanted to get rid of that nuisance.

Second, a persuader’s persistence is usually a sign of deep conviction and passion. Even if the target is unwilling to invest time and effort to examine whether the request is reasonable, he may readily come to the conclusion that if the persuader is so persistent, so convinced, and so passionate, he must be right and his request must be accepted.

Perhaps a thin skin is hurting many of us. The good news is that with a little bit of determined practice we can make it thicker. 

Full-bellied Persuasion

In a recent Washington Post opinion piece, ‘Fewer dinners mean meaner politics,’ author Lea Berman, a former White House social secretary, says, “Washington doesn’t go to dinner much anymore, and it’s bad for the country.” She observes that politicians from both sides cite their busy schedules as the excuse for not attending get-togethers that transcend party lines. Whatever the excuse, it’s not good for governance.

What happens when we break bread together? How does attending an iftar party or a networking dinner enhance our persuasive power? If eating together leads to enhanced persuasive power, persuading members of one’s family should be as simple as swimming downstream. But we know that it is just the opposite - nearly always.

Eating together does not on its own work any miracles. It is the socialising and getting to know one another as persons around the pleasant experience of eating a good, leisurely meal that does the trick. For many of us persuasion targets are specimens of generally unfavourable stereotypes rather than people who are made of flesh and blood just like us. When we deal with an enemy, we don’t have any difficulty working towards a win-lose outcome, and we don’t mind investing our time, effort, and other resources in pursuing it. It is difficult to take such an unfair and unreasonable attitude when we deal with a Rahul or a Rahim that we have broken bread with.

Even when we have to persuade a target we know very well and have interacted with, food and drinks are an excellent accompaniment. The sense of satisfaction that we get during a good meal may gently dull our critical faculties and soften our stand; this may be the reason why many successful negotiators like to soften their counterparts over a meal in a good restaurant.

Recent research by Professor Shai Danziger of Ben Gurion University of the Negev (Israel) establishes a link between food and judges’ decisions. When hungry, judges tend to be less sympathetic to the defendant than after a food-break. Perhaps this is a reiteration of the conventional wisdom captured well by Voltaire, “nous sommes tous meilleurs quand nous avons le ventre plein” (“we’re all better when our stomach is full”).

When we set out to do a tough persuasion task, it is perhaps a good idea to see if delicious food of the target’s choice can be given a supporting role. Chances are that it will more than pay for itself!       

Silly Sunday Som-solts

This week let’s look at a young mother’s true story, reproduced with permission from Moppet Tales.

Sunday evening was pleasant and breezy, and since both the kids were up and alert, all four of us went down to the little park in our building. The husband and I sat on a bench with Munch and watched Moppet show off for us.

'Mama, look! Papa, look!' she squealed as she clambered up the slide the wrong way, monkeyed her way up the frame of the swing set, and drove the toy train to 'Andabaad'. (And elaborated so that silly Mama wouldn't get the wrong idea: 'Onny aeroplane go to Andabaad. I driving choo-choo train to air-a-port.')

Her favourite thing in the park is the huge, net-enclosed trampoline that the pre-teen kids do amazing stunts on. With no one else in the park waiting their turn for the trampoline, she was able to jump as much as she wanted.

Which was a lot, and for a long time, and soon Munch began to get cranky. So the husband took him back home, while I waited for Moppet to get all bounced-out.

'Mama, come jump!' she ordered, 'Like that! Come jump!' I hadn't been on a trampoline in a long, long time, and it did look like a lot of fun, so I climbed up and joined her. She squealed with delight as we bounced together holding hands, then took turns sitting in the centre while the other jumped around and over the one in the middle.

'Mama, look! I do som-solt!' she said, tumbling head over heels three times in quick succession. 'Now Mama's turn!'

'No baby, I'm wearing a skirt. I can't do somersaults.'

She studied me for a moment and then asked 'Onny boys do som-solt?'

'What? No, of course not! Everyone can do somersaults.'

'Mama iss not to do som-solt?' Sad face and bambi eyes.

'No, no. I can do somersaults, ok? See!' I demonstrated.

She giggled, did a couple more herself, and sat up looking at me challengingly. What the heck, I thought, the park's empty anyway, and I did a few more. So we tumbled around on the trampoline, doing som-solts and giggling and squealing like the two silly girls we were.

Later, dizzy and exhausted, we lay flat on our backs on the trampoline, looking up at the sky and pointing out funny cloud shapes. A vague suspicion crept into my mind. Was it possible that my two year old had tricked me into doing those somersaults? She wasn't that smart, was she?

Naah!

Maybe.

Ah, who cares? It was the most fun I'd had in ages!

A two-year-old succeeds in persuading her mother to get rid of her inhibitions and to do somersaults in a skirt, on a trampoline at a public place. The mother just couldn’t withstand the little one’s “sad face and bambi eyes.” This is obviously a case of emotional persuasion. Emotion works here because of the relationship between the two players.

We generally think that emotional persuasion has little scope in the corporate world. But a great deal of persuasion at the workplace depends not on the wealth of data or rigour of reasoning but on the strength of relationships and the use of emotions. Logic and data are then used to justify those decisions. That is why it is important to build and maintain friendly relationships with bosses, peers, subordinates, and customers. Of course, in the absence of such a relationship emotions stand no chance as we have noted in Catching Fish With a Lasso.

Can you recall instances of persuasion at the workplace where decisions were taken largely because of relationships?

Catching Fish with a Lasso

This week let me share with you my short article that appeared in Economic Times Corporate Dossier of June 3, 2011 under the title Cowboy on Horseback . 

If you’re a cowboy on horseback, even the wildest and fastest of bulls cannot escape your lasso. You will rope the animal so gracefully that it will appear almost effortless. You cannot, however, take this ingenious device to the sea if you want to catch fish. You will have to use nets or hooks hidden in baits. Or harpoons if your fight is with whales. The best of lassos will be pathetically inappropriate and the nimblest of cowboys impotent in encounters with fish.

Yet, in the world of persuasion we often try to catch fish with a lasso simply because we’re comfortable using it. Of course we get frustrated when we are unable to influence the target.

A recent case that has been played out on the global scene to chuckles and wisecracks all around is Libyan leader Col Muammar Gaddafi’s April 5 letter to President Barack Obama. It has all the ingredients of great emotional persuasion. The only problem is that it is a lasso thrown at a shark. Let us look at the brief letter a bit closely.

The opening salutation, “Our son, Excellency, President Obama,” makes it quite clear that the writer is focusing on a personal relationship rather than on the relationship between two heads of state.

The writer then refers to the moral and physical hurt that Mr Obama’s words and deeds have caused Libya, and adds, “Despite all this you will always remain our son.” Obviously the writer wants to arouse the wayward ‘son’s’ sense of guilt, then forgive him magnanimously, and reassure him that the relationship is intact. Signalling continued goodwill, Col Gaddafi goes on to wish President Obama all the best in his re-election campaign.

In a cunning move, Col Gaddafi then praises President Obama as “a man who has enough courage to annul a wrong and mistaken action.” This is followed by a few rational arguments such as impossibility of building a civil society by means of weapons and support for the terrorist outfit, Al Qaeda. He also reminds the American president of his own repeated assertions, including the one he made at the UN General Assembly, that the security of other countries is not America’s responsibility.

Finally, the Colonel asks Mr Obama to intervene for the sake of “friendship between our peoples … and for the sake of economic, and security cooperation against terror,” and keep NATO off Libya.

This is a very good use of emotion laced with reasoning to persuade the target to change the course of action he has set in motion. But we know that it failed miserably except to trigger ridicule. There are four reasons why the result could not have been different.

First, Col Gaddafi called Mr Obama ‘son.’ Even when not intended literally, it can be repulsive to a person who doesn’t treat the caller as a father figure. It could, of course, be different if Nelson Mandela used it.

Second, Col Gaddafi was trying to build on an emotional platform which was non-existent. Genuine emotion is so powerful that it is widely and successfully used to blackmail people to do what the persuader wants. Logic and evidence stand no chance against powerful emotion. There are numerous cases of powerful kings and queens and their modern equivalents going weak in the knees and doing foolish things as a result of emotional blackmail from people they love and care for deeply. As Birbal reminds us, Emperor Akbar’s grandson would be hugged and rewarded, not beheaded, for climbing on the old man and pulling at his moustache. Where there is no love, the rules are different.

Third, Colonel Gaddafi was attempting emotional persuasion publicly. While he might not have intended the letter to be splashed all over the world, it was not a secret document meant only for President Obama’s eyes because the Libyan official news agency also had announced the dispatch of this letter. Emotional persuasion is best attempted in private especially when you want the target to change a position that has already been made public. Leaders cultivate the myth that they base their decisions on principles and evidence. A political leader would not want the world to know that he changed a policy in response to an emotional appeal.

Fourth, the Libyan leader was trying to do the persuasion himself. It is true that as the person who has been ruling Libya for over forty years, Col Gaddafi has more power and authority than any other Libyan. But right now his face is unacceptable to the West. He should have used back channel diplomacy if he wanted to persuade any Western leader.

These factors apply equally well to the corporate world. Emotion can and does work there too, provided you have established your personal power over others. Don’t try emotional persuasion on those who don’t care whether you are dead or alive. It is guaranteed to fail. Don’t try emotional persuasion in public; you are unlikely to succeed. Learn to recognise situations where it is best to persuade targets through intermediaries.