Tag Archives: communication

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“Mere?” Not so Much.

 Individuals who flatter themselves by being about “action” must ultimately face the undeniable fact that survival in American life depends on the water of communication.  What we say matters. A lot. 

In parched California, getting caught watering the sidewalk rather than a patch of grass is likely to annoy neighbors.  And a clueless homeowner’s response that what is involved is “merely” water won’t help.  Everyone understands  what’s at stake.  Water makes life possible.

My incredulity matches those neighbors when I hear someone dismiss another’s comments by noting that those expressions are “mere rhetoric.”  In my field this is the professional equivalent of a thumb in the eye.  I’ll give the phrase it’s due; it hangs around our public discussion like mosquitoes in a Michigan summer.  But it’s a misguided thought.

We use the “mere” put-down to devalue someone’s words, usually on the mistaken assumption that we have other means for understanding each other.  In the usual form, the preferred reality is to preference “deeds” over words.  And that is sometimes the case.  For example, we generally expect that people will act on their stated intentions: that their behavior matters. But even in such cases we are also interested in making conclusions about character based on spoken promises.  Individuals who flatter themselves by being about “action” must ultimately face the undeniable fact that survival in American life depends on the water of communication.  What we say matters.  A lot.

The “mere rhetoric” mistake is often spoken by reporters and politicians, the very folks who most need to acknowledge the debt they owe to the fluency of others.  Their fuzzy thinking sometimes comes with a statement such as this:  “For the moment let’s set aside all the rhetoric about this subject and get to the point about what’s at stake.”  This supposed set-aside is then followed by. . . well. . . more language. Staring at each other in complete silence isn’t much of an option. Not understanding our debt to words shows the same kind of lack of self awareness that allows someone to worry about the government “taking over” Medicare.

Over the centuries thinkers have wondered if there isn’t a better cure to misunderstanding than via verbal pathways.  Most have usually ended up with a synthetic symbol system that mimics mathematics.  No one ever misunderstands what “2” means.  And we don’t think others are hurling abuse in our direction if they talk about a “dozen.”  Mathematical language has the virtue and liability of being completely stipulative.

Football on television is functionally as much about the announcing as the action on the field.  Try watching an entire game without the sound.

But our expressive needs require more.  We revel in rhetoric that is loaded, judgmental, evocative and sometimes rude.  We seek out people who use beautiful constructions that engross and engage.  And this isn’t just in the realms of the novel or poetry. Football on television is functionally as much about the announcing as the action on the field.  Try watching an entire game without the sound.  Similarly, a judgment in the form of a letter grade often matters more to a student than their actual work.  And parents rejoice when their young children begin to pass through the threshold of literacy.

To be sure, we are theoretically capable of stepping back from the rhetorical world.  But the requirements are harsh and, for most of us, not very welcoming.  Lock yourself away in a silent place.  Don’t talk. Don’t listen to others.  And try to control the verbal chatter of a rhetorical mind that can probably run circles around  even your most loquacious relative.  It’s not fun to be denied the gifts of utterance.

The scholar Kenneth Burke reminded us that “Language is equipment for living.”  We are toilers and pleasure seekers in the information age, often allowing our bodies to wither while our heads surf through endless waves of verbiage.  Even social scientists who pride themselves on being rigorous empiricists usually end up studying verbal behavior most of the time.  As for the neuroscientists who often use brain scans to seek the origins of our actions?  Well, that’s mere neuroscience.  The human mind is more than the organ of the brain.  It’s the source and signature of our verbally constructed selves.

Persuasion: The Myth of Easy Influence

Persuasion 7th edition cover - CopyPersuasion is hard.  It isn’t just Uncle Fred who refuses to acknowledge what everybody else around the family table knows.  In most contexts it’s all of us most of the time. 

 

A recent study on addiction created a stir in the psychiatric community with its claim that 12-step programs like Alcoholics Anonymous had success rates only in the single digits. Lance and Zachary Dode’s The Sober Truth (2014) has its critics, but it is quite plausible that rates of voluntary behavioral change in even the best addiction treatment programs are low. In a word, persuading another person to change is distressingly difficult.  Add in the addiction factor and it is even more difficult.

The task of trying to alter the attitude or behaviors of someone fairly comfortable with them is one the most difficult challenges a communicator can face. And yet Americans have traditionally believed that spellbinders, “brainwashers” and marketing experts have some sort of access to the secret pathways of persuasion. The ability of others to somehow do end-runs around our natural defenses is reflected in our fascination with advertising and religious conversion, our interest in books about selling products as well as ourselves to others, and our love of films as diverse as The Matrix (1999) or the classic Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956, 1978).  American narratives love to build on the idea that there’s a secret back door for finding another person’s vulnerabilities.

We also think businesses advertise to gain market share, when it is equally likely their efforts are intended to retain existing consumers by reminding them that the brand is still around. This point is important because maintaining recognition for a brand is an obvious and much easier marketing goal.  Look at the last frame of a television ad it will almost always be a brand’s packaging or logo.  The simpler objective of reassuring the consumer is usually the point of the message.

We would also like to believe that personal transformation happens—Hollywood style—when the strong hand of unexpected experience turns someone toward a sudden change of heart.  At the beginning of Casablanca (1942) Rick may be the world’s greatest cynic. But in the short span of two acts he’s a very different man.  But after four decades assessing persuasion messages and effects, I can only count a handful of instances where I’ve actually seen a member of a target audience change their mind.

To be sure, persuasion is real. We need only track changes in American attitudes about gay marriage. Gallup, Pew and other pollsters have seen dramatic turnarounds in the number of citizens–now a majority–who accept marriages for same sex couples. But those attitudes evolved over a number of years, incrementally and often in private.

There is something more interesting about the possibility of even faster conversion. We often share a common narrative of the man or woman “on the make:” the person who will charm us into becoming active participants in our own persuasion.  Any number of shills for medical cures, shaky or legitimate investment schemes, and fake university courses has made many more wary. But believing in the American dream also means placing faith in the ability of an individual to find lucrative ways to induce consumers into parting with their money. After all, our economic system is built on consumer spending. When we are collectively reluctant to buy, state and federal budget directors become nervous.

Determining what motivates change is always a challenge. It isn’t just Uncle Fred who refuses to acknowledge what everybody else around the family Thanksgiving table knows. It’s all of us most of the time, especially if we take away the use of a hierarchical advantage as a bludgeon. The command of a superior isn’t really a form of persuasion. Power plays are just inducements toward reluctant compliance—something less democratic than true persuasion and not very interesting.

It turns out that we have perfect mental mechanisms for resistance to an unwanted idea. In persuasion research this fact of life is usually called the “theory of minimal effects.” Countless studies that compare “pre” and “post” persuasion attitudes in tested audiences–“post” coming after the researcher’s best shot at a persuasive pitch–note that very little changes. Most of the time we are immune to even strong and logical arguments, the testimony of credible sources, and the raw evidence of undeniable facts.

For example, if you don’t accept a human role in global warming, there is no shortage of mental equipment available to you to cling steadfastly to your beliefs. One common defense is to only notice evidence that confirms your view. This approach to choosing what you believe—sometimes called “confirmation bias”—is one reason our news media now tend to come in certain predictable ideological shades. In the case of doubts about climate change, Fox News is more likely your media home than MSNBC or The Weather Channel.

There are also risks to the ego in giving up a cherished belief.  Our beliefs are a big part of what makes up who we are. To shed even a part of a personal web of attitudes is to be a slightly different person. The new attitude is also likely to bump into other behaviors and attitudes that no longer make as much sense. So, if given the choice, we like our beliefs to be as comfortable as our Saturday morning clothes. Indeed, even though I teach and write frequently about “persuasion,” it would be more accurate to say that much of my time is really spent focusing on the ways we resist change.

Comments: woodward@tcnj.edu

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