Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion

money, 'I think we could all use some coffee. How about getting us three cups?' When Bad Cop is gone, it's time for Good Cop's big scene: 'Look, man, I don't know why, but my partner doesn't like you, and he's gonna try to get you. And he's gonna be able to do it because we've got enough evidence right now. And he's right about the D.A.'s office going hard on guys who don't cooperate. You're looking at five years, man, five years! Now, I don't want to see that happen to you. So if you admit you robbed that place right now, before he gets back, I'll take charge of your case and put in a good word for you to the D.A. If we work together on this, we can cut that five years down to two, maybe one. Do us both a favor, Kenny. Just tell me how you did it, and then let's start working on getting you through this.' A full confession frequently follows.

Good Cop/Bad Cop works as well as it does for several reasons: The fear of long incarceration is quickly instilled by Bad Cop's threats; the perceptual contrast principle ensures that compared to the raving, venomous Bad Cop, the interrogator playing Good Cop will seem like an especially reasonable and kind man; and because Good Cop has intervened repeatedly on the suspect's behalf—has even spent his own money for a cup of coffee—the reciprocity rule pressures for a return favor. The big reason that the technique is effective, though, is that it gives the suspect the idea that there is someone on his side, someone with his welfare in mind, someone working together with him, for him. In most situations, such a person would be viewed very favorably, but in the deep trouble our robbery suspect finds himself, that person takes on the character of a savior. And from savior, it is but a short step to trusted father confessor.

Conditioning and Association

'Why do they blame me, Doc?' It was the shaky telephone voice of a local TV weatherman. He had been given my number when he called the psychology department at my university to find someone who could answer his question—a question that had always puzzled him but had recently begun to bother and depress him.

'I mean, it's crazy, isn't it? Everybody knows that I just report the weather, that I don't order it, right? So how come I get so much flak when the weather's bad? During the floods last year, I got hate mail! One guy threatened to shoot me if it didn't stop raining. Christ, I'm still looking over my shoulder from that one. And the people I work with at the station do it, too! Sometimes, right on the air, they'll zing me about a heat wave or something. They have to know that I'm not responsible, but that doesn't seem to stop them. Can you help me understand this, Doc? It's really getting me down.'

We made an appointment to talk in my office, where I tried to explain that he was the victim of an age-old click, whirr response that people have to things they perceive as merely connected to one another. Instances of this response abound in modern life. But I felt that the example most likely to help the distressed weatherman would require a bit of ancient history. I asked him to consider the precarious fate of the imperial messengers of old Persia. Any such messenger assigned the role of military courier had special cause to hope mightily for Persian battlefield successes. With news of victory in his pouch, he would be treated as a hero upon his arrival at the palace. The food, drink, and women of his choice were provided gladly and sumptuously. Should his message tell of military disaster, though, the reception would be quite different: He was summarily slain.

I hoped that the point of this story would not be lost on the weatherman. I wanted him to be aware of a fact that is as true today as it was in the time of ancient Persia, or, for that matter, in the time of Shakespeare, who captured the essence of it with one vivid line. 'The nature of bad news,' he said, 'infects the teller.' There is a natural human tendency to dislike a person who brings us unpleas-ant information, even when that person did not cause the bad news. The simple association with it is enough to stimulate our dislike.

But there was something else I hoped the weatherman would get from the historical examples. Not only was he joined in his predicament by centuries of other 'tellers,' but also, compared to some, such as the Persian messengers, he was very well-off. At the end of our session, he said something to convince me that he appreciated this point quite clearly. 'Doc,' he said on his way out, 'I feel a lot better about my job now. I mean, I'm in Phoenix where the sun shines three hundred days a year, right? Thank God I don't do the weather in Buffalo.'

The weatherman's parting comment reveals that he understood more than I had told him about the principle that was influencing his viewers' liking for him. Being connected with bad weather does have a negative effect. But on the other side of the coin, being connected with sunshine should do wonders for his popularity. And he was right. The principle of association is a general one, governing both negative and positive connections. An innocent association with either bad things or good things will influence how people feel about us.²¹

Weathermen pay price for nature's curve balls

By David L. Langford

Associated Press

Television weather forecasters make a good living talking about the weather, but when Mother Nature throws a curve ball, they duck for cover.

Conversations with several veteran prognosticators across the country this week turned up stories of them being whacked by old ladies with umbrellas, accosted by drunks in bars, pelted with snowballs and galoshes, threatened with death, and accused of trying to play God.

'I had one guy call and tell me that if it snowed over Christmas, I wouldn't live to see New Year's,' said Bob Gregory, who has been the forecaster at WTHR-TV in Indianapolis for nine years.

Most of the forecasters claimed they are accurate 80 percent to 90 percent of the time on one-day forecasts, but longer-range predictions get tricky. And most conceded they are simply reporting information supplied by computers and anonymous meterologists from the National Weather Service or a private agency.

But it's the face on the television screen that people go after.

Tom Bonner, 35, who has been with KARK-TV in Little Rock, Ark., for 11 years, remembers the time a burly farmer from Lonoke, with too much to drink, walked up to him in a bar, poked a finger in his chest and said: 'You're the one that sent that tornado and tore my house up... I'm going to take your head off.”

Bonner said he looked for the bouncer, couldn't spot him, and replied, 'That's right about the tornado, and I'll tell you something else, I'll send another one if you don't back off.”

Several years ago, when a major flood left water 10 feet deep in San Diego's Mission Valley, Mike Ambrose of KGTV recalls that a woman walked up to his car, whacked the windshield with an umbrella and said, 'This rain is your fault.”

Chuck Whitaker of WSBT-TV in South Bend, Ind., says, 'One little old lady called the police department and wanted the weatherman arrested for bringing all the snow.”

A woman upset that it had rained for her daughter's wedding called Tom Jolls of WKBW-TV in Buffalo, N.Y., to give him a piece of her mind. 'She held me responsible and said if she ever met me she would probably hit me,” he said.

Sonny Eliot of WJBK-TV, a forecaster in the Detroit area for 30 years, recalls predicting 2 to 4 inches of snow in the city several years ago and more than 8 came down. To retaliate, his colleagues at the station set up a contraption that rained about 200 galoshes on him while he was giving the forecast the next day.

'I've still got the lumps to prove it,” he says.

FIGURE 5-2

Weatherbeaten

Note the similarities between the account of the weatherman who came to my office and those of other TV weather reporters.

(DAVID L. LANGFORD, ASSOCIATED PRESS)

Our instruction in how the negative association works seems to have been primarily undertaken by the mothers of our society. Remember how they were always warning us against playing with the bad kids down the street? Remember how they said it didn't matter if we did nothing bad ourselves because, in the eyes of the neighborhood, we would be 'known by the company we kept.” Our mothers were teaching us about guilt by association. They were giving us a lesson in the negative side of the principle of association. And they were right. People do assume that we have the same personality traits as our friends.²²

As for the positive associations, it is the compliance professionals who teach the lesson. They are incessantly