Book recommendation below. 😉
I stumbled upon what initially seemed like an interestingly different fitness service on Instagram. A few clicks in though, it turned out to be the same old behavioural science playbook at play: inane questions in the pretext of customizing it for me.
You know the routine: An elaborate personalization quiz. Or an endless webpage, glorious testimonials, a video you cannot pause, fake scarcity, the door-in-the-face price followed by the tempting offer, first seeming unattainable, then granting some access.
In some ways, it’s like the micro-reciprocity badges that keep us hooked on certain apps or games. Sure, it works often. But not always. And sometimes, we don’t even notice the growing gap between effort invested, and results delivered. Like when folks thought they were getting proficient at a foreign language on some apps; only to struggle to understand basic questions or answer them when abroad.
What really gets me is how the most brilliant of minds in behavioural science aren’t solving meaningful challenges that the world presents. Their employers have downgraded them into ‘bait-and-hook’ specialists.
They are busy engineering desire. So businesses can simply sell more, raise more, profit more.
Behavioural tips and tricks are probably as old as humanity itself. And a recent Instagram post gave a sharp highlight of some famous instances where behaviour has been (mis)used in recent decades:
Early in his career, Frank Sinatra’s publicist would pay teenage girls $5 to scream and fake fainting at the Paramount Theatre. Imagine that. Sinatramania was bought and paid for.
Or Red Bull, whose lack of marketing budget when launching in London, had its team fill garbage bins at select locations with empty Red Bull cans, creating the illusion that everyone was drinking it.
Or how British perfumer Joanne Malone CBE initially had her affluent friends and acquaintances strut around in trendy neighbourhoods with empty handbags bearing her brand. They were walking billboards of her nascent boutique, quickly establishing itself into the giant it has grown to become.
We all call it clever. And it is this fascination that fuels our modern obsession with ‘personal branding.’ We are told to scream our uniqueness to the world, yet most are terrified they aren’t unique at all.
Here’s a flip: What if we believed we were unique on the inside, but were perfectly fine being “cogs” on the outside? In a world fighting for the spotlight, we’ve forgotten that impossible things are achieved by groups working toward a common goal, people who are content being excellent cogs. We might even solve a few global challenges and quiet some inner demons that way.
The world’s biggest challenges are, after all, side-effects of this misuse of behavioural science, selling stuff people don’t need, using resources we don’t have, to achieve growth we can’t sustain.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m more for good business than the next chap. But you can’t argue that we have lost the plot. Programmed from childhood to chase endless growth, sales and profits.
I’ve taught or interacted with hundreds of students over the years. And whenever I discuss business models or strategy, all focus is on making stuff cheaper, selling more, and improving profitability. But if we spoke to, say, a baker from the past, he’d probably talk about maintaining and improving the process and quality, and growing relationships. Not endless expansions for the sake of it.
Which brings me to the book. The Art of Quiet Influence. A genuine respite and joy.
Author Jocelyn Davis offers Eastern philosophies as a refreshing alternative to cold, Western business practices. It snaps you out of presumed obviousness and asks you: what if we redrew everything? What if business didn’t have to be an endless relay? What if it could be like a walk in the park?
It’s not magic. It will not change the hurried, deceptive, or crazy bits of capitalism overnight or make businesses or advertisers suddenly more honest or focused.
But it reminds you that there’s another way.
That influence doesn’t have to mean manipulation, misrepresentation or misdirection. That building something real and lasting can come from a quieter, more honest place.
Perhaps it’s time we listened. Or at least stopped running on the wheel long enough to hear the alternative.
If you’ve questioned the mad race and wondered what the point of winning the rat race is if you’re still a rat at the end, this book might offer the same refreshing perspective it gave me.