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It seems to me that the nature of our
relationship to one another is very often that of seller to buyer.
I recognise this when I say, "I’m not buying that," to someone who’s told
me something I don’t believe.
In the search for an intimate partner,
one person often tries to "sell" the other on being involved, being sexual,
going steady, or even getting married. We say that "he chased after her"
and that he "won" her affection; in other words, that he "sold" her on
(the value of) committing to him. Similarly, I recently heard someone say,
"I think he’s crazy about you. Don’t let him get away." And in a current
television commercial, while proposing to the "object" of his affection,
the would-be suitor pulls out a series of charts depicting his valuable
qualities, with the aim of convincing her that he truly is the man for
her.
Numerous novels, films and television
stories embrace this theme. In many of them he refuses to take "no" for
an answer and continues to try to sell her on "buying" that he’s the right
one for her. (I think it’s noteworthy that this effort to "sell" her on
his worth is also an extremely common pattern in the animal kingdom. It
seems to me that although this is a naturally evolved strategy for trying
to get what we want, the advent of language—and with it civilisation—has
rendered it ineffective.)
We deal with one another as seller-trying-to-persuade-buyer
(and vice versa) in many areas of our lives. Among these are applying
for a job or to a college, running for political office, negotiating labour-management
disputes or divorce settlements, evangelists seeking converts, criminal
and civil trials, and, of course, all sorts of commercial endeavours.
For example, when applying for a job
we try to sell the prospective employer by putting our "best foot forward."
Accordingly, it is not unusual for us to omit information from our resumes
which we believe might make us appear undesirable, or to exaggerate information
that we believe will increase the chance that we’ll be hired. (If I held
a particular job for only a month—say, from December 15th, 1998 to January
15th, 1999—I might omit the months and indicate only that I held the job
from 1998-1999. In this way I could give the impression that I had worked
nearly two years, yet still be able to claim I had not explicitly stated
anything false.)
Parents’ urgency that their children
be accepted into college compels similar omissions and exaggerations. To
lure prospective students and their parents, colleges and universities
omit and exaggerate, too, when they disseminate slick (read, intending
to persuade) full-colour brochures and catalogues, with negative information—like
incidence of assaults on campus—omitted. And, of course, we’re much-too-familiar
with politicians carefully manipulating what they tell us in order to sell
us on voting for them.
We negotiate in many situations, such
as labour-management disputes, governments negotiating trade agreements,
a husband and wife negotiating a divorce settlement, or a person buying
a house. It is almost universally taken-for-granted that they will take
"sides" and that each will attempt to "sell" the other on the outcome it
desires: They are likely to negotiate as though they’re opponents and
even enemies.
Commonly, each side in a negotiation
will demand more than it is ready to accept, anticipating that this will
make what it actually wants appear more acceptable to the other side. (Additional
supposed attractions of this strategy are that it allows each side to appear
conciliatory in accepting less than it originally demanded and—if it plays
its cards right— each has a chance to get more than it would otherwise
have settled for.) They negotiate as though one side’s losses are really
the other’s gain. Moreover, the outcomes from this strategy are often
arbitrary and bear little resemblance to a common good.
The necessity of this seller-persuading-buyer
relationship is particularly taken-for-granted in the commercial arena.
As a result, it is normal for prospective buyers to expect sellers to engage
in "puffery," such as exaggeration of quality or value. (I was amazed to
learn that puffery is generally legal.)
It’s normal, as well, for us to expect
advertising and sales people—used-car sellers, for example—to be misleading
and less than forthcoming. For example, one current copier ad claims to
provide the "starter" cartridge for free. Since the cartridge is essential
for the operation of the copier, it seems to me that this is like advertising
a car and claiming to throw in the tires for free. Nevertheless, this is
a very popular persuasion strategy.
Or there is the television commercial—showing
previously spatting couples now happy together after reading a popular
author’s new book—inferring that buying the book will heal your relationship.
(For many reasons I very much doubt the validity of such an inference.)
Although it may be less obvious, I suggest
that many of us are
involved in this seller-trying-to-persuade-buyer
dynamic in our relationship with ourselves, as well. This
is very often the case, for example, when we try to maintain diet, exercise
or sleep regimens. (I suggest, further, that this dynamic is the essential
constituent of virtually all addictive behaviour; that is, the addicted
person is trying to persuade himself that he is not in pain—not scared,
sad, hurting, etc.)
I’ve heard some people ask, "what’s
wrong with a little puffery, a little misdirection or omission? It can’t
hurt much, can it? Look at how successful it’s made our economy. What’s
wrong with a popular actress promoting an automobile? What’s wrong with
the people in infomercials excitedly jumping up and down like they’ve just
discovered
our Holy Grail? What’s wrong with trying to persuade
my date to sleep with me or to go steady with me?"
I want to make it clear that I am not
criticising selling or buying here. But I am very concerned about what
these have come to mean: that we believe it acceptable for one person
to try to persuade another; that this is as true in our personal lives
as in business and commerce; that we believe it is necessary, effective
and valuable; and that we seem unconcerned when this effort is covert—in
fact, we take it for granted that both the seller and the buyer will have
hidden
agendas.
We take such efforts at persuasion so
much for granted that we don’t recognise that we keep paying a steep price
for relating to one another in this way. In my view, the costs are quite
considerable. They include:
distorted "maps" of our reality;
therefore,
a diminishing ability to distinguish
who’s trustworthy from who’s not, what’s true from what’s not;
an increasing expenditure of
time and effort trying to sort these out;
an ever-growing view of others
as opponents and even enemies;
an increasing fear of being
taken advantage of or even of being harmed;
diminishing trust, safety and
ease in our lives;
an increasing need to be wary,
to maintain a more and more defensive posture;
increasing resentment towards
those who try to persuade us.
in turn, an increasing willingness
to also dd deceive and try to persuade;
increasing self-doubt and diminishing
self-esteem;
decreasing empathy for the concerns
of others.
I suggest that it’s difficult and perhaps
impossible to remain genuine—to articulate oneself truthfully and accurately—while
trying to persuade. I suggest, in fact, that any attempt to persuade involves
some act of concealment (which is not necessarily thematic, "conscious"
for the persuader) and is therefore disingenuous. When others are not genuine,
it’s difficult to determine whether or not we’re being given false, misleading
or incomplete information. Since they pretend they are being truthful,
they make it additionally difficult to recognise that they are providing
us with distorted "maps" of our reality. This is why our ability to discern
what is true is a major casualty of others’ efforts to persuade us that
they have what we want or that we owe them what we have.
We are left not knowing whether to trust
that the suitor is sincere or that the product is really as effective or
fulfilling as they say. Without clear, accurate and adequate information,
it’s difficult to know whether the person who’s complimenting us actually
appreciates us or is seeking favours. We don’t know whether we can really
lose weight by wearing a magnetic belt. The actress may sound exceedingly
sincere, but that doesn’t mean we’ll like the car she’s extolling. We don’t
know whether the computer being hawked on television is really as good
a buy as the announcer claims it is. We don’t know whether the pain remedy
being touted really is more effective than other brands.
Without a clear understanding of the
consequences of our choices, we are rendered more vulnerable to potential
harm. For instance, we might be injured by a remedy that the television
commercial tells us is wonderful, but whose side-effects it fails to mention
(or it mentions them so quickly or in such small print that we can’t grasp
them). Moreover, without clear information we are more likely to act impulsively
in a time of need.
When I try to persuade you—for instance,
to be sexual with me or to sell me your car for less than you want for
it—I am taking a stance opposing you; I am defining myself as concerned
about achieving my own ends without any real concern about yours. (If you
question this assertion, I ask you when was the last time you were concerned
about the satisfaction of the person you bought something from or sold
something to? When did you tell the cashier that the price marked on an
item you wanted was incorrectly low. When did you report that you were
given too much change? And when was the last time you were really concerned
about how being sexual would affect the person you were "coming on to"?)
In my effort to persuade you to do what
I
want,
I inevitably "doctor" what I tell you and how I tell you:
I either misinform or avoid informing you—perhaps by exaggerating,
by omitting some significant information or by saying what I know isn’t
true. I am likely to do this by either "guilting," shaming or scaring you.
(In the most extreme cases, I "persuade" you by overtly threatening or
physically forcing you to do what I want). All this I do in an effort to
eliminate the chance that you will not do what I want and all without concern
for what you want.
In attempting to persuade you I objectify
you and I maintain a hidden agenda. By "objectify," I mean that
I have no empathy for you and thereby deny you the fullness of choice that
you might otherwise have. By "hidden agenda," I mean that I conceal
myself—perhaps
my intentions, the importance to me of what I want, or my strategies for
convincing you.
Furthermore, when I try to persuade
you, you are likely to become defensive, for fear that I am not concerned
about what’s in your best interest. (How do you feel and what do
you do when the sales person calls to convince you to switch long-distance
companies or give to a charity, but doesn’t ask whether you want to talk
and counters your every objection with a new argument?) And, though this
time
you might buy what I am selling, you are very unlikely to do so again.
For all these reasons, I suggest that
any time someone attempts to persuade us, we will be disturbed by it; and
further, unless we genuinely articulate our distress at their disturbing
efforts, and otherwise act assertively, we will be burdened by a residue
of resentment that will tend to lead us to either withdraw or try to get
even (in the mistaken belief that doing so will keep us from feeling that
pain). So, if I believe that you’ve been unfair to me, I might bad-mouth
you or refuse to return something I have of yours. Or, if I conclude that
a store has taken advantage of me, I may well feel justified in cheating
it in some way; perhaps I will claim that a product that I damaged
was already broken when I purchased it. I suggest that this is the basic
structure of "white collar" crime: When they believe their boss
has been unfair to them, employees feel justified in stealing office supplies—or
worse—in order to even the score.
I propose, then, that it’s not in anyone’s
best interest to persuade or to be persuaded and, moreover, whenever
one
person has gained something at the expense of another, everyone ultimately
loses: By attempting to get what I want from you without also trying to
help you get what’s best for you, I have actually participate in making
my world unsafe and more difficult for me, as well as for you, and
have diminished the ultimate return for each of us.
I’m proposing that there is a fundamental
difference between my pressuring or tricking you to acquiesce to my
desires
and my informing you about what I want and its significance to me;
and that it benefits both seller and buyer to aim to inform,
rather
than persuade. And, of course, I’m proposing that dialoguing
is
the means for accomplishing this.
Whether I’m a sales person or a suitor,
when my intention is to inform rather than persuade, I do not have a hidden
agenda and I am not trying to usurp your freedom to decide. Just the opposite.
My aim is to enable you to make the most informed choice possible. Therefore
I approach you with an "open hand." I engage you in order, first, to determine
whether you’re willing to explore what I’m "selling;" and, second, to help
you determine whether it will be in your best interest. This will certainly
increase your safety and maximise the likelihood that you will be pleased
with our encounter—-and that you will be a repeat "customer", as well.
As a prospective "buyer" I have the
corollary responsibility to provide full and accurate disclosure of pertinent
information (e.g., my willingness to discuss what you’re offering, financial
considerations, the description of the problem I am trying to solve or
the desire I am trying to fulfil).
As seller, I’m unhappy if I’ve succeeded
in selling a widget that doesn’t satisfy the buyer. Similarly, as buyer,
I’m not happy if I’ve got the widget by besting the seller in some way.
(Sadly, few people realise the harm they do in putting something over on
someone, or that it’s in their best interest to not try to persuade
others.)
None of us likes to get taken. But—not
knowing what to do or not believing that we can act effectively—we tend
to be unassertive in so many situations while others attempt to take us;
and we often end up doing the same to them. In my view, what I’m proposing
here is how we can relate to one another in a way that can reverse the
trend and lead for each of us to decreasing mistrust, fear, resentment,
dissatisfaction and violence.
revised:
3/2002
©
2000 Stephen
E. Linn, Ph.D. • Empowering People
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Related essay: Dialoguing
Dialogue, which is genuine
communication, is the alternative to persuasion.
 
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