etc.), negotiation actually boils down to a fight for social roles (boss/subordinate, vendor/buyer, teacher/student, decision-maker/implementer, etc.). As negotiators, it is crucial that we understand who holds what role.
We have already seen one such pair of roles, that of ‘host’ and ‘guest’. These are the most important roles that can be assigned in negotiation. The movement towards these roles begins as soon as the first questions are asked and the first answers given. As noted, it is after these roles are established that a value system is introduced, and one party is put into an undesirable role that they then want to shift. This role can indeed be shifted, but only by a) knowing how to fight for a social role, or b) engaging in combat (dismissing an objectionable dealer, say, getting into a scuffle or even grabbing an object or money). There are no other options.
So what is a role? Roles are an extremely powerful thing. If a negotiator knows how to recognise the roles at play, then they can predict others’ behaviour and use that knowledge to adjust their own – usually with great success. The thing is, if we put a person into one role or another, then sooner or later they will start to move exactly as that role dictates.
This principle was the subject of an audacious experiment in the USA.
The Stanford Prison Experiment (1971)
Wanting to better understand the nature of conflict within the correctional institutions of the United States Navy, the Office of Naval Research agreed to fund an experiment led by behavioural psychologist Philip Zimbardo. Zimbardo fitted out a basement at Stanford University to create a mock prison, and recruited male volunteers who agreed to be assigned a role of ‘prisoner’ or ‘guard’ at random. All volunteers were students at the university, and they received $15 per day (which, with inflation, equates to almost $100 in 2018).
The participants all underwent tests of their physical health and psychological stability prior to the experiment. After this, they were randomly divided into two groups of twelve: ‘guards’ and ‘prisoners’.
The ‘guards’ were given uniforms bought from an army surplus store, which were based on the uniforms of actual prison guards. They were also given wooden batons and mirrored sunglasses, which meant their eyes were impossible to see.
The experiment started with the ‘prisoners’ being sent home. They were then mock-arrested by state police, who assisted with the experiment. The ‘prisoners’ had their fingerprints and mugshots taken, and they were read their rights. After this, they were stripped, searched, and given a number.
In contrast to those of the guards, ‘prisoners’ were given uncomfortable uniforms to be worn without underwear, and rubber slippers. They were addressed only by the number sewed onto their uniform. In addition, they had to wear a small chain around their ankles, intended to serve as a constant reminder of their imprisonment.
The ‘guards’ worked in shifts, although during the experiment many of them were happy to work overtime. Zimbardo himself took on the role of Prison Superintendent.
The experiment was supposed to last four weeks. The ‘guards’ were given a single task: to do the rounds of the prison. Barring the use of physical force towards the ‘prisoners’, they could perform these rounds in any manner they chose.
As early as day two, some ‘prisoners’ had started a revolt, barricading the entrance to their cell with their beds and mocking their overseers. To put an end to the disturbance, ‘guards’ attacked the ‘prisoners’ with fire extinguishers. Before long, the ‘guards’ were forcing their wards to sleep naked on a bare concrete floor, and use of the showers was made a privilege. The sanitary conditions in the prison deteriorated to a shocking degree: ‘prisoners’ were forbidden from using toilets outside of their own cells, instead having to make do with a bucket. Occasionally, as a punishment, ‘guards’ even prohibited the buckets from being emptied.
One-third of the ‘guards’ revealed sadistic tendencies: they bullied the ‘prisoners’, forcing some of them to clean waste tanks with their bare hands. Two of the ‘prisoners’ were so emotionally traumatised that they had to be removed from the experiment. One of the replacement participants was so shocked by the scenes that met him upon arrival that he swiftly started a hunger strike. As punishment, he was locked in a dark closet in lieu of solitary confinement. The other ‘prisoners’ were given a choice: they could either go without blankets or leave the troublemaker in ‘solitary’ all night. Only one person was willing to sacrifice his own comfort for the sake of the other ‘prisoner’.
Roughly fifty observers followed the work of the ‘prison’, but it was only Zimbardo’s girlfriend, who came to interview some of the participants, who voiced alarm at what was happening. Stanford’s ‘prison’ was closed six days after opening its doors. Many guards expressed regret that the experiment had ended sooner than anticipated.
It is hard to overstate the importance of roles. If, in negotiations, we are viewed as one in a long line of others, or if we fall into the role of ‘dependent’, we will immediately start looking for a way out – for example, by suggesting tantalising terms or making concessions. All because we want out of that role. This is exactly why we need to learn how to negotiate.
Returning to our warfare analogy, we can differentiate between two stages of negotiations: manoeuvring and combat.
In On War, Carl von Clausewitz, a prominent nineteenth-century military theorist, wrote, ‘Fighting is a trial of strength of the moral and physical forces by means of the latter.’4
This means that in battle, ‘strength of the moral forces’ – i.e. our strength of spirit – is key. Everything else is secondary: what matters is having the willpower to see you through. When it comes to defending our interests – or playing the lion – our confidence in our own strength will naturally be of great importance. We must have enough strength of spirit to fight for our interests.
So when does combat begin? It begins when both sides have an equal understanding of what they are fighting for, and what is at stake. Let’s take a look at the following situation.
Two years ago, a supermarket chain installed a very cheap security system in their stores. It is constantly breaking down, causing them many headaches. They should probably change it, but how much will that cost? Is it really worth the effort?
A company supplying security systems is aware of these issues, and they are trying to convince the manager’s assistant to change the bad system for their better quality, more expensive one.
The supplier’s sales manager comes to the supermarket’s HQ and launches into negotiations by saying: ‘Maria Stepanova, I know your system is always breaking down. I’d like to propose you replace it with my system, which is both reliable and great quality.’
What sort of response do you think they will get? The answer is fairly predictable: ‘No, we’re fine, thanks, you can show yourself out.’
At the risk of jumping a few steps ahead, I can say that this is exactly why this firm came to me for help.
Essentially, when you reveal your negotiation benefit – what you want to achieve – to the opponent, this marks the start of combat. This is because it is only once the benefit has been pinpointed that bargaining and other
