Friend and Foe: When to Cooperate, When to Compete, and How to Succeed at Both (15 page)

Omar Hammami was raised in rural Alabama. The son of a Syrian immigrant and an Alabama native, he grew up in a loving family. He played soccer, he was close with his sister and parents, and he regularly visited his grandparents' farm, where he enjoyed lazy afternoons shelling peas and eating watermelon.

And at school, Omar was popular—very popular. He was the president of his sophomore class, he was always surrounded by friends, and he dated one of the most popular girls.

So how did someone like Omar come to join an Islamist rebel group known for beheadings, stoning people to death, and chopping off people's hands? According to Robert Pape of the University of Chicago, his transition from class president to foreign jihadist reflected “an altruism gone wildly wrong.” Though Omar had attended Bible camp and church growing up, in his adolescence he found meaning in his Muslim roots. He began to identify as a Muslim, and it was through this prism that he viewed the invasion of Iraq and the events in Somalia with alarm. Despite having grown up in America, when Muslims in Iraq and Somalia were attacked, he identified with them so strongly that he was moved to act.

In contrast to the belief that terrorists are isolated loners, most terrorists were raised just like Omar—in caring families surrounded by friends. When the British Security Service, MI5, interviewed convicted terrorists and conducted long-term surveillance of terrorists, they found that most terrorists grew up in loving families and had lots of friends. In fact, fully 90 percent of the terrorists MI5 interviewed were characterized as “sociable.”

The MI5 findings are completely consistent with former CIA operations officer Marc Sageman's research. As a foreign service officer, Marc worked with Islamic fundamentalists during the Afghan-Soviet war and studied terrorism extensively after he returned to the United States. Similar to the MI5 conclusions, he found that terrorists tend to come from middle-class, educated, religious, and supportive families. These individuals care deeply about their community, but begin to see outsiders as a threat.

And this is why it is sometimes the friendliest people within a group who come to see members of other groups as foes.

To succeed in our social world—whether in business, in our relationships, or in any other area of our lives—we cooperate within our group in order to compete effectively against other groups. Often, this means looking out for—and trusting—members of our own group, and distrusting members of other groups.

But how we define “our” group is often fluid. Across scores of studies of groups, two key results keep emerging. First, it is surprisingly easy for us to define ourselves as part of a group. Consider experiments where complete strangers are randomly assigned to either a “red” team or a “blue” team. It only takes a few moments before each team starts adopting favorable impressions of their teammates…and hostile views of the other team members. If we are assigned to the red team, we cooperate with other “reds” but compete against the “blues.”

Second, trust within a group can fan the flames of hostility toward other groups. When Taya Cohen of Carnegie Mellon investigated conflict within and between societies by analyzing data from 186 societies across the globe, she found that the more loyal we are to our own group, the more we relish and approve of warfare against other groups.

These findings teach us something fundamental about cooperation and competition. It is often the most cooperative members of a group that can become highly competitive against other groups; when individuals identify very closely with their group, they see outsiders as a threat. At the same time, competitive individuals can also become highly cooperative—when they collaborate with members of their group to compete against others.

And how do we bring together two warring factions? Introduce a common enemy!

We know that perceived threats promote cooperation within a group and trigger competition between groups. The same principle applies to bringing competing groups together, and to this end there is really nothing that works more effectively than introducing a common enemy. From the diplomatic stage to the boardroom, a common threat can create some truly odd bedfellows as former adversaries shift gears to cooperate with each other.

In fact, the birth of the United States of America was made possible, in large measure, because of the shifting loyalties created by a common enemy. To appreciate how dramatically these forces changed, we need to start with a battle that preceded the American Revolution. In the mid-1700s, the French and British were locked in fierce competition for control over North America. The dispute between the two colonial powers had simmered for years and both the British and French had recruited the North American colonists to fight on their behalf.

The first violent conflict between the French and British in the colonies was fought in present-day Pennsylvania in 1754, when a small group of militiamen from Virginia ambushed a French patrol, killing many of them and capturing others. One of the people killed was a French officer, and his death enraged the French. As it turns out, the leader of that British militia was a little-known 22-year-old named George Washington. Washington was vilified by the French who accused him of assassinating their officer. And this battle ignited a seven-year war between the French and the British. Throughout this war, Washington remained a stalwart ally of the British and a reviled foe of the French.

Twenty years later, George Washington once again donned his military uniform. This time, however, to fight the British. And as he began his war against the British, things were not going well. The American colonists were outmatched by the British in almost every way.

George Washington realized that the colonists needed help. But who would come to the aid of his fledgling rebel movement? The French! Even though the French had vilified Washington, they hated the British even more. By coming to the aid of the Americans with money, weapons, soldiers, and even naval vessels, they were able to defeat their most loathed foe, the British. The French were able to gain a “victory” over the British, and the colonists were able to claim a new nation.

Of course, the story of shifting loyalties in the face of a common enemy doesn't end here. France and Britain were bitter foes for centuries. But in the twentieth century, in the face of a common enemy, first Germany and then the Soviet Union, the two foes became fast friends.

Competence and warmth are the key ingredients for building trust. When it comes to conveying competence, there are many tools we can use, everything from credentials to jargon. But remember, competence alone is insufficient. Whether it's on the campaign trail or negotiating a high-stakes deal, we also need warmth.

As we've seen, one way to build warmth is to demonstrate concern for others or share information about our most important relationships. Another way is to take actions that make us vulnerable, from spilling coffee to singing off-key.

Both in business and in our personal lives, however, one of the
best
strategies we can undertake is to build long-term relationships. When we transform single transactions into repeated relationships, we promote cooperation and make friends out of possible foes.

To illustrate the importance of long-term relationships, let's travel to the commodity market for rubber in Thailand. When rubber is sold at market, the quality of the rubber is difficult to discern. Only after processing the raw rubber will the buyer know for certain whether or not the seller invested the time and effort to raise a high-quality crop.

In other words, at the time of the sale only the seller knows whether or not the rubber is high quality. Thus sellers have an incentive to compete: They could save time and money by raising a low-quality crop and telling potential buyers that their rubber is high quality. Over time, however, buyers would learn not to trust sellers. Ultimately, even sellers who did invest the effort to raise a high-quality product wouldn't be able to convince skeptical buyers that they had a high-quality product. In this case, the market would collapse. Sellers would produce low-quality rubber and the buyers would assume that the rubber is poor.

But this is not what happens. Why not?

Long-term relationships solve the problem. Rather than buying and selling with anonymous strangers, the buyers and sellers develop long-term partnerships. Buyers trust sellers to disclose the true quality of their rubber. And sellers do so because they know that if they mislead their buyers they will have a hard time selling rubber in the future. Long-term relationships create the trust that makes this market work.

Long-term relationships can also provide the foundation for trust in more complex business transactions. In 1963, Phil Knight thought he could build a better running shoe. He sent a few pairs to his former coach, Bill Bowerman, at the University of Oregon. Phil hoped that Bill might buy a few pairs. Instead, Bill offered to be his partner. The two shook hands in January 1964 and launched a shoe company. In the early years, Bill would rip apart running shoes to figure out new designs and Phil would sell shoes out of the trunk of his car. Bill and Phil trusted each other and with a handshake they built one of the most successful sportswear companies in history: Nike.

But what do we do when we don't have a long-term relationship? If we lack experience working with others, what can we do? We can rely on
other
people's experiences. And this is where reputations come in.

We recently saw a sign in front of a church that read, “If your friend gossips to you, you know they also gossip about you.” We take issue with this quote. Not because we think it is untrue—we suspect that all of our friends, like us, gossip about everyone—but because it gives gossip a bad rap. Though gossip can be competitive and hurtful, it is also essential for building trust. Gossip not only conveys important information, but it also helps to solidify relationships.

Importantly, gossip serves to police and punish individuals who exploit others. It ensures that when people double-cross us, our friends will certainly hear about it. Matt Feinberg of the University of Toronto found that even when people can't formally punish those who exploited them, they can spread negative reputation information about them in the form of gossip. People use gossip to decide whom to trust and whom to avoid. In short, gossip helps us build reputations.

We are all familiar with old-fashioned gossip, the type that the church sign warned us about. But gossip has gotten much more sophisticated in the Internet age, and so too have reputation systems. To appreciate this, we only need to consider the now commonplace event of having complete strangers spend the night in our homes!

That is exactly what 17 million people have done since 2008 via Airbnb. As most readers are probably aware, Airbnb is a host site that helps prospective renters find short-term accommodations from private owners. When you post your property on Airbnb, in other words, you are opening your home to a complete stranger—and that requires a lot of trust! And Airbnb knows it. Trust is the foundational component of this enterprise and it is featured in their mission: “Airbnb is a trusted community marketplace for people to list, discover, and book unique accommodations around the world.” They even have a web page dedicated to trust:
https://www.airbnb.com/​trust.

How do they create trust among complete strangers? Well, they have institutionalized the idea of gossip by using a reciprocal rating system. Every guest and every host rate each other after each rental. Your score becomes your reputation. If your ratings are low, it will be hard for you to secure accommodations or attract renters. And if your ratings become too low, you can be dropped from the system entirely. This system motivates both parties to be on their best behavior. More important, it enables hosts to trust a complete stranger not to steal their most valued possessions or trash their home.

In recent years there has been an explosion of peer-to-peer networks like these—from Airbnb to eBay to Uber. And each one runs almost entirely on trust and reputations. As we mentioned earlier, trust is the foundation of any economy, and when it comes to Internet ventures that connect strangers, trust is essential. Like gossip, reputation systems are not perfect, but they go a long way to help us solve the problem of trust.

We have discussed the importance of building trust. But although trust enables cooperation, unconditional trust—or blind trust—can make us vulnerable to competitive moves and exploitation by others. We benefit from trusting the
right
people, and we suffer when we trust the wrong people. Next, we offer a guide to help you discern whom to trust and whom to hold at arm's length.

Humans are not the only ones who use deception to get what they want. In fact, many animal species have learned how to exploit others to gain greater access to scarce resources, from reproductive opportunities to food to protection and safety.

Consider the European cuckoos, famous for inspiring the cuckoo clock. These birds look perfectly harmless on a piece of furniture, but out in nature they are masters of deception: They trick other birds into rearing their young for them.

Here's how. Female cuckoos locate nests of other birds that contain eggs. They wait until the expectant parents are away gathering food. Then, the mama cuckoo sneaks into the nest, removes at least one of the existing eggs, and quickly lays one of her own in its place. Female cuckoos can place up to 20 eggs in 20 different nests just this way. When the cuckoo egg hatches, the “foster” parent bird instinctively feeds the open beak of a young chick. Deception in this case succeeds because it plays on the bird's basic maternal instincts: Feed hungry chicks that hatch in your nest.

Many species use deception to feed themselves and their families. For example, antshrikes cooperate by raising an alarm with a special call (you might remember from our introduction that ground squirrels do this as well). However, sometimes these small birds use this cooperative tool to gain a competitive advantage. Biologists have observed antshrikes raising
false
alarms. When another bird is about to consume a tantalizing insect, a competing bird will sound the alarm. This grabs attention and distracts a competitor, and often gives the bird that raised the false alarm just enough time to swoop in for the meal. These birds have figured out how to “cry wolf” to gain an advantage over their competitors.

Examples like these abound. From birds to baboons, most animals use deception, both to compete with members of their own species for resources and to evade predators. Interestingly, deception can also be used as a form of cooperation, helping entire groups coordinate their actions to more effectively compete with predators. For example, when a predator is near a group of birds, one of the birds may pretend to be injured. This deceptive act is meant to distract the predator's attention, and buy others, especially their offspring, time to escape imminent doom.

Humans also use deception to claim greater resources, acquire better mating opportunities, or promote their family's or group's interests. With human deception, however, a few things change. For one, human deception is typically a bit more clever.

Drawing on prior work, we define deception as any action or statement that intentionally misleads a target. Our definition has two key features.
First, deception is intentional.
If you lead someone to believe something that turns out to be false, but you truly believe it, we wouldn't consider that deception.
Second, the statements or actions themselves don't need to be false
. Sometimes, individually truthful statements strung together can be misleading. For example, if I ask a car seller if her car has any problems, she could tell me that it always starts right up and that she can produce five years of receipts for routine maintenance. If the car leaks fluids and was involved in a serious accident, however, her statements might be true, but they would be misleading. We would call that deceptive.

We'd all like to believe that the majority of people are honest. But is that true?

When scholars study ordinary communication, the rates of deception they observe are astoundingly high. In one study, 60 percent of people lied to strangers within the first 10 minutes of meeting them. The vast majority of college students (86 percent) report that they lie to their parents on a regular basis. And surveys reveal that most of us lie to our friends (75 percent), siblings (73 percent), and spouses (69 percent).

But what about when the information we state is public and can be pretty easily verified?

To answer this question, Jeffrey Hancock of Cornell University analyzed profiles on dating websites like
Match.com
and then met dozens of people who had posted profiles on these sites. He weighed them, measured their height, and verified their birth date by looking at their driver's licenses. He then compared those values with what people had
claimed
on the dating websites. It turned out that almost 60 percent of people misrepresented their weight by at least five pounds. And almost half (48 percent) misrepresented their height. As you might expect, men were more likely to inflate their height, and women were more likely to underreport their weight.

The dating site study also tells something else about everyday deception. We often deceive by only a “small” amount. Sure, a few people on the dating site told some tall tales. For instance, one person claimed to be more than 20 pounds lighter than she really was. But overall, most of the lies were modest—an inch or two taller, five or six pounds lighter, and a year or two younger. Why are most lies so modest? Because we need to balance competing concerns. We want to look better to others online, but at the end of the day we need to look at ourselves in the mirror. As Nina Mazar at the University of Toronto has found, we can justify small lies, but the bigger the lie the harder it is to justify to ourselves. Plus, the bigger the lie, the bigger the consequences—
and
the easier it is to get caught.

When we tell lies, we fear getting caught, but we have other feelings as well. In fact, deception does not always make us feel bad. Sometimes it feels good to be bad.

When pop star Britney Spears stole a cigarette lighter from a gas station, she was caught making a joke out of her petty crime. “I stole something. Oh, I'm bad. Ohhh,” she said playfully.

This example raises two puzzles. First, why would a millionaire steal something as cheap and trivial as a lighter? To be fair, Britney isn't the only celebrity to behave this way. Actress Winona Ryder was arrested for stealing clothes and shoplifting, and the tennis champion Jennifer Capriati was once caught shoplifting a $15 ring from a mall.

Why do wealthy people steal? None of them
needed
these items, and each of them could easily have afforded them. The costs of engaging in these behaviors far exceed the benefits. So something curious must be going on.

The second puzzle, which helps us solve the first, is the fact that many of them were filled with glee as they engaged in theft. Shouldn't they feel guilt and remorse?

Not Frank Abagnale, Jr. He traveled the world conning people by impersonating such diverse characters as a Pan Am pilot, a supervising resident of a hospital, a lawyer, and a college sociology professor. In the end, he cashed a staggering total of $2.5 million in forged checks.

After Frank had committed his first con, here is how he describes how he felt:

I was heady with happiness. Since I hadn't yet had my first taste of alcohol, I couldn't compare the feeling to a champagne high, but it was the most delightful sensation I'd ever experienced.

Intuitively, we assume that unethical behavior makes people feel guilty, remorseful, and full of regret. And it often does. However, our research has found that this is not always the case. After engaging in unethical behavior, many of us, not just the rare individual like Britney or Frank, feel happy and even giddy. This isn't just true anecdotally. Across several experiments, we've found that those who cheated actually reported feeling much happier than those who refrained from cheating. We call this the “Cheater's High.”

We have replicated this study across a range of conditions and situations, and each time we found that cheaters were happier. So we cannot assume that feelings of guilt will deter people from cheating or deceiving others. Some people, especially after experiencing the thrill of cheating and getting away with it, may even be more drawn to it.

This idea has an important practical implication. If people feel a sense of accomplishment from cheating, monitoring systems and greater deterrence can actually
encourage
some people to cheat. Consider a computer hacker looking for a challenge. The more secure the system, the more alluring the target. We suspect that this problem may be particularly acute for online security, where bragging rights represent a substantial part of the “reward.” But the Cheater's High poses a challenge for
any
system: While tighter controls may deter some people, they may actually motivate others.

Of course, although cheating may give us an instant high, there are often negative long-term consequences. We may damage relationships, ruin a marriage, lose a job, or even get thrown in jail. And so, in the heat of the moment, we also need to tap into one of our most important capacities as human beings to not fall prey to the temptation to cheat: self-control.

Our research has shown us that cheating is an awful lot like chocolate cake. To resist temptation, we need self-control, and this is true not just for cheating but for nearly every long-term goal that we have—dieting, exercising, saving money, and so on.

There are two key things to understand about self-control. First, self-control is like a muscle that gets easily tired and worn out with overuse. Second, we use the same muscle every time we do
anything
that requires self-control. This means that we exert the same self-control “muscle” when we take the stairs instead of the elevator at work, when we skip the chocolate cake at lunch, and when we include only eligible expenses in our expense report. This is why during exam time it is so hard to study diligently while also eating well. With so much self-control expended on studying, there is too little left over to avoid the temptation of a junk food binge.

Consider a study we conducted with Nicole Mead of the Rotterdam School of Management. In the first stage of the experiment, participants watched a six-minute video of a woman being interviewed. The interview video, however, had no sound, and at the bottom of the screen we posted a series of short words like “play,” “tight,” and “greet” for 30 seconds each. We asked some people “not to read or look at any words that may appear on the screen.” The video without sound is boring to watch, and for most people, it is a struggle
not
to read the words at the bottom of the screen. As we expected, our participants told us they found this task to be exhausting.

We then gave participants an opportunity to cheat. We had them take a math test in which they could earn money for each correct problem. The computer told them their score, but each participant was responsible for informing the experimenter. Participants had an incentive to cheat. Reporting a higher score would earn them more money. As we predicted, the people who had expended self-control by avoiding the words at the bottom of the screen were more than twice as likely to overstate the number of problems they had solved. Across many different self-control and cheating tasks we found the same result: After people expend self-control, they are more likely to cheat.

Here is the key lesson: When we are tempted to cheat, we need our self-control muscle to hold us back. Yet we only have a single muscle for self-control, and it is easily fatigued.

Our advice is to be mindful of your self-control muscle. If it's gotten a recent workout (whether by saying no to that slice of cake, or avoiding some other temptation), we may want to postpone important ethical decisions until that muscle is rested and recharged.

But as we noted earlier, not every lie is unethical. In fact, we use deception surprisingly often to
cooperate
with others. What are these prosocial lies like, and how do they work?