Writing to Persuade: How to Bring People Over to Your Side - Trish Hall 2019
The power of empathy
Winning people over
A car cuts in front of us on the Long Island Expressway.
“I hate these fucking drivers,” my husband says.
Traffic is slow. It’s hot. We’re both squinting into the setting sun, which makes it hard to see. He is stressed, annoyed. I’m annoyed by his stress, and angry that he can’t just accept the traffic and relax.
“Why do you care?” I lash out. “You’re being stupid. We’ll get there in time. What’s the difference?”
“Leave me alone!”
If that scenario is familiar, it’s because it occurs regularly in couples and families. And if it is familiar, you might know that my behavior in that exchange only made things worse.
If I wanted to persuade my husband to chill out, I should have empathized with his frustration. Said I felt the same way. Instead of fighting his frustration, I could have changed the subject. Found a podcast about politics he would have liked, or at least one that would have offered a different target for frustration. Put on classical music, or maybe one of his obscure favorites like “Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet,” by Gavin Bryars. Anything to take his mind off our inching toward Manhattan, beckoning us but never to be attained.
We all know intuitively that lecturing and hectoring create resistance, not compliance, and years of psychological research back up that instinct. You can’t bludgeon people into agreeing with you, or into changing their ways. You can only try to assert influence. Persuading people often means suggesting something in a way that is not an order but almost an invisible suggestion. You don’t come around to something unless there is a good reason for you to do it.
When someone is talking about her struggle with weight, you don’t say, just stop eating. But you might say, “When my wife was trying to lose weight, she cut out wheat and dairy.” It’s supportive, perhaps persuasive, but indirect in a good way. You’re not saying, “You should do this.”
Whether writing or speaking, you have to study who your audience is: understand their age, their education level, their values. Empathy is sensing what others feel. When you understand what they feel, you might intuit how to act on that information.
“The Universal Prayer” by Alexander Pope is often quoted for a reason:
Teach me to feel another’s woe,
To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.
Empathy is not inherently negative or positive; it’s a tool. It can be used generously or cynically. Richard Friedman, a psychiatrist and professor at Weill Cornell Medical College and a regular writer for the Times, says that many people misunderstand empathy. They think it means to identify with others, to be sympathetic and truly feel their pain. But in reality, empathy involves understanding the psychological makeup of other people. It’s about knowing how to get under their skin. Brilliant politicians, demagogues, and psychopaths are often empathetic. (So are the best psychiatrists, and I think Richard is one.) They make their target feel understood, known. Depending on the moral compass of a leader, empathy can be positive or destructive. Either way, it’s a connection that lets you get through to people.
I wish I had understood the power of empathy when my older brother, Deke, a Princeton graduate who had a PhD in economics but little patience for the ways of the world, was still alive. We had been close as children; indeed, my first words were, “I go Deke.” But in our thirties he pulled away, making it clear he found me annoying and not worth his time. After an early life filled with achievement in academics and sports, he had gradually rejected much of the world, preferring to be with his wife and children, to walk in the woods and keep company with his dogs. Most people seemed to disappoint him, me included. A rupture in our relationship came when, in my early forties, I was carrying out the details of my mother’s will and he thought I had been too slow to get the title of her car changed so we could give it to a family friend who needed it.
After that, we seldom spoke. If I was visiting my father, he always called Deke and then quickly passed me the phone. My father wanted to assure we had contact. When he was growing up in Marietta, Ohio, it always upset him that his mother never spoke to her brother—and he lived next door. If I had understood the power of empathy, I might have told my brother, “I am sorry that I seem to be failing you; I am doing my best, please forgive me.” I might have been able to reach him if I had made an effort to understand him and change my response to him. If I did, I might have been able to connect. But I never did that, because I was too hurt and angry that the brother I had adored was rejecting me. I focused on my pain, not his. I wouldn’t have had to genuinely believe my apology. But if I had done it and given him a chance to be the person to forgive, I might have rebuilt our relationship.
The ability to be empathetic might be an art in decline. Recent studies suggest that both children and young adults are less empathetic than they were a decade ago. Before you go blaming young people, consider the transformation of our culture. The constant flaming and trashing and fighting over social media in forums like Twitter do much to exacerbate the sense that the world is filled with conflict and not compassion. Research has shown that arousing fear diminishes empathy. But even apart from that, just the experience of living digitally seems to reduce the capacity for empathy. When we observe others, our brains activate neurons that allow us to have empathy. When so many people are staring at screens or multitasking, that neural process may be disrupted. The more distracted we become by all the digital possibilities, the harder it is to focus on others and what they are feeling and saying. Attention is scarce, but ever more valuable.
Even if you don’t feel sympathy for people who think a certain way, try to understand what motivates them to hold a position. Ask why they feel the way they feel. Understand why they believe something. You want people to feel safe, and you want to minimize hostility. Think about using words that are open, even tentative, in a way that allows the other person to feel empowered. We all need to feel heard, and if you show respect, your audience will feel that. Christine Comaford, a business coach and serial entrepreneur, advocates using phrases like “What if,” “I need your help,” and “Would it be helpful if,” all of which focus on solutions and take the conversation away from who’s up or down, who’s right or wrong. Statements like these will encourage feelings of safety, belonging, and mattering.
Richard Friedman, a psychiatrist in New York, suggests using this exercise to increase your capacity for empathy:
✵ Carefully observe the person you want to communicate with better, and pick out one thing they said or did that you either don’t agree with, don’t like, or don’t understand.
✵ Now come up with two different explanations of why they might have said or done what they did.
✵ Ask the person to tell you as much as they can about their experience and do not share your feeling, positive or negative, about what they say. This is about opening your mind to someone else’s and learning all that you can about it—without silent or spoken editorial. Get the data and withhold what you think for later.
✵ Can you now understand better why this person thinks or acts as they do? If not, keep trying, and you’ll get it sooner or later.
They also keep you from expressing so much certainty that your audience hardens its views in response. You’re trying to convince another person or a group of people that it’s fine to accept a different point of view as valid and possibly true. You’re not trying to get someone to say, “I was wrong.” None of us wants to feel we mistakenly held to a certain belief; pride won’t allow that.
But can you teach yourself to be more empathetic, in a way that will improve the quality of your speaking or writing? Perhaps. Start by examining your own rigidity. Sean Blanda, who works for a web startup, plays a game with friends he has christened “Controversial Opinion.” During the game, you can’t argue—you can only ask questions about why the person feels that way. That kind of practice will hone your capacity for empathy. Being silent and nonjudgmental will help you understand the feelings and fears of your audience, your friends, your spouse.
Once you accept that people on the other side are real people, you also have to accept that you might be wrong and they might be right. As Blanda says, showing empathy can’t just be a technique to make a connection so you can get what you want, which is a convert to your side. It’s to create the possibility that you might change your mind.
Rapport is a critical tool for people who are trying to get information from terrorists, criminals, and others who don’t want to talk. It’s not in the target’s interest to talk, in many cases, but then somehow there he is, talking. Two British researchers, Emily Alison, a counselor, and Laurence Alison, a professor at the University of Liverpool, listened to hundreds of hours of taped interrogations of suspected terrorists. They looked at what did and did not work, at how the interrogators managed to get the terrorists to share what they knew. One thing was clear: being aggressive, pushy, and demanding did not work. What did work: being respectful, showing genuine curiosity, and expressing concern for the welfare of the detainee.
How Sean Blanda plays the empathy game:
In the game “Controversial Opinion,” you can’t argue, you can only ask questions about why someone feels a certain way. You don’t try to win, convince anyone of your viewpoint, or try to score points. When you hear “facts” that don’t support your viewpoint, don’t think, “That can’t be true!” Instead consider, “Hmm, maybe that person is right. I should look into this.”
Blanda noticed that when he was with close friends, some people with controversial views would simply not be willing to say them. So the real purpose of the game is to show people that their group is not as homogenous as they think, and to get people feeling comfortable with the idea that they can be in the presence of an idea they dislike. He explained the game in an article on the website Medium that has been read more than 4 million times. Blanda says he thinks that as polarized as people are, they are also realizing they need to change the nature of their interactions.
Once the connection was established, the person wanted to talk, to tell his story, to explain. You have to be nonjudgmental to establish that rapport. You have to lose any desire to dominate and instead, create the feeling that you are in a partnership.
In your writing, never make the audience an adversary. Suspend moral judgment. And if you’re in a one-on-one situation, it’s important to make clear that the other person doesn’t owe you anything. The Alisons found that suspects were more likely to open up when the interviewer emphasized their right not to talk.
Getting a suspected terrorist to talk, from the Alisons’ research:
The Alisons found that hostility did not succeed in getting information from suspects; creating rapport did. The following tape, one of many they studied, is of an interviewer meeting with a suspect.
The interviewer began like this: “On the day we arrested you, I believe that you had the intention of killing a British soldier or police officer. I don’t know the details of what happened, why you may have felt it needed to happen, or what you wanted to achieve by doing this. Only you know these things. If you are willing, you’ll tell me, and if you’re not, you won’t. I can’t force you to tell me—I don’t want to force you. I’d like you to help me understand. Would you tell me about what happened?” The interviewer opens up his notebook, and shows the suspect the empty pages. “You see? I don’t even have a list of questions.”
“That is beautiful,” the suspect says. “Because you have treated me with consideration and respect, yes I will tell you now. But only to help you understand what is really happening in this country.”
There’s little empathy demonstrated in current political discourse. It’s challenging to find articles that show an understanding of the possible range of emotions and feelings that reasonable people might have. Even Barack Obama, and certainly Martin Luther King, sound quaint when talking about America being for all of us. Tribalism on both the left and right combined with a lack of empathy has become divisive and dangerous.
This dialogue would have worked better with my husband than the one I used:
A car cuts in front of us on the Long Island Expressway.
“I hate these fucking drivers,” my husband says.
“I know; it’s making me insane. What should we do while we’re stuck?”
“I don’t know. We’re going to be late.”
“I’ll check the map. Oh you know, we’re not going to be late, even with this traffic jam. Let’s listen to something. Do you want the radio or a podcast?”
“I wish we still had that comedy show.”
“Oh, yeah. We do. I’ll find it.”
So don’t be a part of that. Don’t put pressure on people. If you are writing, demonstrate that you understand your audience, you feel their feelings; and rather than denying them, make those feelings central to your argument.
If you are meeting in person, let the other choose to speak. If you are confrontational or attempt to be controlling, you will only get pushback. A struggle for dominance will never end in persuasion. I have finally learned that lesson.
On car trips, I no longer routinely escalate battles with my husband. Unless I feel like my life is in danger, I try to tamp down my critical, anxious side and ignore his reaction to traffic. I read email or a book until his frustration fades, along with the traffic jam.