Our nation lost a great hero this weekend. I personally set a very high bar for using that word, but, as the son of a former POW myself[1], I knew all about John McCain long before he even entered politics. He was a man whose character, sacrifice and example transcended politics, and unfortunately possibly the last of the breed on our national scene.
But this post is not a eulogy, nor is it meant to be. There are people who can put together a much finer tribute and besides that’s not the purpose of this blog. Instead, I would like to use McCain as a model for two and a half lessons about persuasive communication and credibility.
Aristotle told us that ethos is the strongest leg of his persuasion triad, and McCain had far more than most.
I wrote a whole post and podcast about Commitment as one of the 7 Cs of Max Cred, and it’s pretty hard to find a better example than McCain. His ordeal as a POW in horrific conditions for over five years is example enough, but keep in mind that the length of this ordeal was partly by his own choice. Because his father was the commander of the US Naval forces in the Pacific, his captors urged him to accept early release because they wanted to score propaganda points. They even gave him a plausible excuse because the Code of Conduct allowed servicemen to accept early release in case of sickness or injury. A person of ordinary character would have been extremely tempted and would have easily rationalized his choice, but McCain courageously held to an even higher personal code and chose the hard road home.
Commitment to something higher than yourself, that is so publicly tested and found to ring true for so long, is an enormous asset in persuasion. It gets attention because it’s so rare, and it commands respect to any speaker. It was so strong that it even survived McCain’s lapse of judgment in the Keating Five scandal, which could have easily destroyed his reputation. It was so strong that when he thought for himself and gained a reputation as a maverick, no one doubted his personal motives.
The second element of ethos that McCain embodied was his personal likeability. As Senator Jeff Flake said, referring to the fact that his two bitter rivals for the presidency will speak at his funeral, ”These were bitter contests, both of them, and to ask them to speak at your funeral, and for them to be honored at the opportunity, that tells you all you need to know.”
Likeability is a great asset in persuasion, but McCain showed that it doesn’t have to be the bland rollover niceness that lets people walk all over you. He had a famous temper and often didn’t choose his words carefully enough, but he didn’t let opposition shade over into personal enmity, and of course his famous sense of humor was a great salve for hurt feelings.
That brings me to the “half” lesson. His campaign bus in 2000 was named the “Straight-Talk Express” for a reason. He wasn’t one to carefully choose his words, and he was blunt, outspoken, and direct. These can be great assets for persuasive communication, but great persuaders always know that how you say something is never as important as how your listener takes it. They tailor their message for maximum effect in reaching their intended goal, and so they practice calculated authenticity, and strive to put their best selves forward at all times.
Very few of us will ever be tested like John McCain, and very few of us will ever achieve his towering status, but we can all learn from his example: find a worthwhile cause to commit to, conduct ourselves in such a way that we make far more friends than enemies, and—on occasion—think before we open our mouths.
[1] My Dad was a POW in Germany during WWII.
One of the most important pillars of persuasive communication is outside-in thinking, which is thinking about an issue or a situation from the point of view of the other person. I’ve written about it extensively and it’s a fundamental part of every sales or communication course I teach.
Obviously, the ability to predict other’s thinking and attitude about what you’re trying to persuade them about (what psychologists call perspective taking) is a tremendous asset, because it allows you to frame your idea in a way that is most attractive to them, or even change your idea to accommodate their needs, such as in a win-win negotiation. That’s why I always urge you to research the other person, including what their interests are, how they are measured, how they’ve made similar decisions in the past, and their possible reasons for objecting. We’re all self-centered so outside-in thinking doesn’t come naturally to us; that’s why simply asking yourself those questions is an excellent way to remind yourself and engage your mind into their perspective.
The benefit of outside-in thinking is so clear that there should be nothing more to be said. But what if it’s wrong?
I’ve recently learned that outside-in thinking is inadequate, and may even hinder your persuasive attempts. A recent journal article by three researchers involving 25 separate experiments has found that while people may think they understand the other person’s perspective by engaging in outside-in thinking, evidence shows that they don’t. We’re just not as good at figuring out others’ minds as we think we are. Even married couples are consistently wrong about predicting what their partner will answer. In one of the experiments, one spouse was asked to predict how the other would react to certain statements. They predicted they would get 13 out of 20 right; in reality they got an average of five.
If even married couples can be so consistently wrong and overconfident, it’s apparent that simply making the attempt to understand the other person’s perspective is not enough. In fact, if it causes you to become overconfident in your estimation of what they’re thinking, it can actually backfire on you.
I’m not recommending that you ditch outside-in thinking. By all means, do the preparation and ask yourself the questions. But don’t stop there. Be humble about your initial conclusions, because they’re only predictions, and predictions give you the illusion of knowledge. You’ll be better off if instead of predicting how the other person will react, you think of it as a hypothesis.
A hypothesis needs to be tested, and the simplest way to test a hypothesis about what another person is thinking is to just ask them. This is about as blindingly obvious as can be, but according to the authors of the study it’s rarely done. I’m not sure why, but I’ll take a stab at perspective taking here and make a hypothesis about what’s going on in the minds of people who don’t ask: they either assume they already know, or they’re afraid of finding out they’re wrong.
Outside-in thinking can be a great start as long as you don’t stop there. Go beyond perspective taking to what one of the authors of the article, Nicholas Epley, calls “perspective getting.” You can prepare in advance by thinking of questions you can ask to verify your assumptions about the other person but then go into the conversation with an open and curious mindset. Ask your questions and then really listen to the answers; probe further if you need clarification; paraphrase back your perceptions to confirm your understanding.
Asking questions, listening, and engaging in a sincere effort to understand the other person’s point of view will give you a much more accurate picture of what they’re thinking. Perhaps even more importantly, they will send a clear message to the other person that you actually care—and that’s probably the most important reason you shouldn’t take outside-in thinking for granted.
Aristotle told us long ago that there are three means of persuasion: logos, pathos and ethos. The most important, he said, is ethos, or how the audience perceives the speaker personally.
After 2500 years, and having passed through an Age of Reason and a scientific revolution, surely things would be different. Logos should carry the day – what is said is surely more important than who says it. But there was a vivid demonstration last week of how powerful ethos still is.
The lesson was brought home by a high school valedictorian speaking to his graduating class in Kentucky. Bell County, in which his school is located, voted 82% for Donald Trump in 2016, so Bowling was on safe ground when he uttered this quote:
“ ‘Don’t just get involved. Fight for your seat at the table. Better yet, fight for a seat at the head of the table.’ — Donald J. Trump.”
According to an article in the Washington Post, the crowd “went wild” and their applause almost drowned out Bowling’s next statement: “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. That was Barack Obama.”
At that point, the applause immediately died and someone even booed.
Although the sample size was only one statement, it was an elegant experiment. Holding the message constant (logos), and changing only the source, Bowling demonstrated dramatically the power of ethos: how the audience’s perception of the source affects the persuasiveness of the message.
Although the foils in this little experiment/practical joke were Trump supporters, I suspect the same thing would have happened if the quotes were reversed. Maybe some bold valedictorian in a blue county might be willing to put it to the test?
Maybe it’s time for another Age of Reason.
There’s a paradox of humility: you have to be truly confident to show it. The weak and insecure will always bluff and bluster, while the strong and confident will expose themselves.
Lieutenant Colonel Chris Hughes was leading a unit of the 101st Airborne on a mission in Najaf, Iraq in 2003, to establish contact with local leaders. Somehow, a rumor spread among the population that they were there to enter the mosque and arrest the cleric, and suddenly hundreds of angry Iraqis surrounded the Americans and pressed closer. The air was tense and the smallest provocation could have set off a massacre. Col. Hughes ordered his troops to take a breath, smile, and kneel down. Within seconds the anger subsided and the troops withdrew without incident. Humility saved the day, but it took incredible strength to show it.[1]
Most of us don’t find ourselves in situations like that, but we have multiple opportunities every day to improve situations by exercising our humility. For example, have you ever been in a meeting where someone said something you didn’t understand, but you were afraid to ask them because you didn’t want to seem ignorant?
I was in a meeting of citizens concerned about airport noise recently, and I saw both sides of the humility equation in one exchange. One chap was deeply involved with the issue and extremely well informed. When the moderator asked him to give us a bit of background, he shot him down, claiming he had worked a lot on the problem so he just needed to share his recommendations. He began by telling us what to do about the “Part 150” project. A woman interjected and said, “Wait a minute, can you tell me what Part 150 is?” I had been thinking the same thing but didn’t want to look stupid. She had the humility to admit her ignorance, and when the guy answered her question it was obvious that the majority of people in the meeting learned something new.
What struck me about that exchange was that by displaying humility she actually projected strength.
What lessons can we draw from both those stories?
It takes a confident person to ask “stupid questions”. In fact, not wanting to appear stupid is one of the stupidest things you can do.
Harry Truman said it’s amazing what you can accomplish when you don’t care who gets the credit, but it takes confidence in your own contribution to live by that dictum.
It takes a confident person to just listen when you know they don’t have something valuable to add to the conversation, instead of trying to show how much you know.
It takes a confident person to find the good in another’s idea instead of immediately trying to show how smart you are by pointing out flaws.
It takes a confident person to seek out honest criticism, and to be humble enough to say, “You’re right. Thanks for correcting me.”
It takes a confident person to have a growth mindset. Carol Dweck’s research has shown that kids who are praised for their intelligence become very protective of their image as “smart” and don’t want to take on difficult challenges that might chip away at it. Kids who know they’re capable of growth have the confidence to be humble and don’t mind making mistakes or failing or looking foolish.
The right balance between confidence and humility may be even more important as a person rises to leadership positions. It took a confident leader like Abraham Lincoln to surround himself with a team of rivals, people who were more experienced and not afraid to disagree. It takes a confident leader to have the humility to let subordinates make mistakes for themselves so they can learn and grow.
So, next time you see someone acting the opposite of humble, hogging the spotlight, claiming infallibility, and domineering others, ask yourself what insecurity they must be hiding.
