The predictable way to begin a column on the psychology of flattery would be to observe how you, dear reader, are so strikingly witty and intelligent – and also, I have to say, astonishingly physically attractive. But you wouldn't fall for that, would you? Actually, maybe you would. When the American journalist Richard Stengel told friends he was working on his book You're Too Kind: A Brief History Of Flattery, their faces lit up: "What a brilliant idea! Yes, that'll be a fantastic book. You're just the person to do it!" Initially, he felt deeply gratified. Then he realised they were joking. Which is slightly scary: if even a man researching a history of flattery has to remind himself not to be swayed by it, what hope for anyone else?
Not much, it would appear. "Everybody likes a compliment," Abraham Lincoln famously observed. But a growing body of research underlines just how overpoweringly true that is – to the extent that it works even when the flattery is obviously insincere and cynically motivated. In one study, researchers in Hong Kong tested the effects of an advertisement for a clothes store that read: "We are contacting you directly because we know that you are a fashionable and stylish person. Your dress sense is not only classy, but also chic…" Upfront reactions – what psychologists call "explicit attitudes" – were as you'd expect: people knew they were being brown-nosed. But their unspoken "implicit attitude" was positive, more resilient, and proved a better predictor of whether they'd make a purchase. Knowing what was happening didn't stop it working. To demonstrate that people's hunger to be flattered was the reason, the study was repeated, with some people primed beforehand to think about their personal strengths. Those who'd received this self-esteem boost proved impervious to the ad.
It's tempting to speculate that our very certainty that we can detect blatantly insincere flattery might be part of what makes it work: while you focus on detecting the ulterior motive of, say, the underling who's praising your brilliance as a boss, you're neglecting to stay conscious of how happy that's making you feel. Research by the computer scientists BJ Fogg and Clifford Nass has shown that we're susceptible to such flattery even when it comes from a source that can't possibly mean it sincerely – because it's a computer.
The human truth underlying all this is either pathetic or poignant: we want almost nothing in life, it seems, quite so acutely as just to feel better about ourselves. That's one of those observations so obvious it becomes invisible, and being reminded of it can jolt you into a whole new perspective on the world: how many political and celebrity careers are built, how many crimes committed, how many great inventions dreamed up, all so people could think to themselves, "I'm not too bad, really, am I?" This is problematic for those of us – including me, and I suspect you – who like to mock the pro-sycophancy tips of books such as How To Win Friends And Influence People. (In asking whether such advice is effective or preposterous, it never occurred to me it might be both.) Then again, as cheesy as it sounds, it's also a useful reminder of the best life/career/relationship advice out there: most of the time, all anyone really wants is for you to praise them a bit. Sincerely if possible. But then someone of your perceptiveness presumably already knew that.
oliver.burkeman@theguardian.com; twitter.com/oliverburkeman
