We’ve just about come to that point in January where, for many of us, the gust of novelty and promise of a new year is beginning to wear thin. We’re no longer writing and then having to scribble out ‘2023’ when marking down a date. 2024 is starting to settle in. All those ‘I’ll deal with it in the new year’ tasks are also coming back to roost. And, according to Norcross and Vangarello's findings, at the time of writing, between 34 and 40 percent of people reading this will have abandoned their resolution from the New Year.
Suffice it all to say: If you’ve found yourself at this point in January and your resolve is starting to shake, you are far from alone. If our goals for the year are starting to head south, how might we rejuvenate the motivation and energy to bring a resolution back to life?
If we were to perceive some common societal rituals for the first time, I bet many would feel almost like a practical joke. From brides throwing bouquets to people lining up for hours to get the best Black Friday deals; from memorialising moments by taking pictures of ourselves on little handheld devices, to gender reveal parties. Humans are weird. Again, shared meaning is imperative as we operate in this broader social and cultural context. The last edition of this newsletter focussed more on individual rituals and their impacts, but, of course, many rituals operate as effective mechanisms for human togetherness. I found it interesting that Dad and the other people I spoke with all told stories of rituals that were shared with other people. Social rituals bring us closer through this shared meaning, helping us move through difficult experiences like grief and loss, celebrate change, or simply facilitate feelings of connection and social identity. In more ways than one, it’s the rituals that make us.
Some participants were given no further instruction beyond that they had to eat the chocolate bar. Others, however, were told to follow a specific process (p. 5):
“Without unwrapping the chocolate bar, break it in half. Unwrap half of the bar and eat it. Then, unwrap the other half and eat it.”
The study found that those who participated in this ritual enjoyed the experience of eating the chocolate more than those who had no ritual. These participants also evaluated the chocolate as tastier, and they spent a longer time actually eating it than those without the ritual. Their perceived value of the chocolate was also higher, based on responses when asked how much they’d be prepared to spend on the chocolate.
Perfectionistic striving, perfectionistic concerns, and the power of curiosity
I am, and always have been, what you might call the stereotypical perfectionist: Classic type A operator, high expectations of the self, etc. etc.
Of course, I’m not alone here - perfectionism is only becoming more common. One meta-analysis examining different cohorts from 1989 to 2016, for example, led researchers to assert that all types of perfectionism have been increasing over time. They found more recent generations of university pupils identified with more socially-prescribed perfectionism than their predecessors, stating, “This finding suggests that young people are perceiving that their social context is increasingly demanding, that others judge them more harshly, and that they are increasingly inclined to display perfection as a means of securing approval.”
And different types of perfectionism can have negative impacts. For example, research has found links between perfectionistic tendencies and procrastination, with indications that discrepancies may be an important factor between the two: That is, negative interpretations that I’ve not met the standards I expect for myself, and other intense self-evaluations. More maladaptive types of perfectionism have also been linked to more stress, personal and professional burnout, and even potential impacts on physical health.
From an evolutionary perspective, this makes sense. After all, how could a species like ours survive if we didn’t, consciously or unconsciously, keep ourselves at the centre of our human experience?
This self-centrism is arguably one of the reasons why finding common ground with someone can fast-track connection and influence. In Robert Cialdini’s classic 1980’s book Influence, he puts it simply:
“We like people who are like us. It’s a fact that applies to human infants as young as nine months and holds true later in life whether the similarity is in the area of opinions, personality traits, background, or lifestyle.” (2021 edition, p. 84)
We’ve all experienced that instant ‘buzz’ when you meet someone for the first time and realise you have something in common. And the buzz will often heighten if that commonality is a niche interest or experience. Perhaps you suddenly feel closer to the person, like you know them at a much deeper level despite only learning a little more information. As it turns out, the power of similarity and belonging goes pretty deep…
Increases in life satisfaction and resilience have been linked to positive emotions. Other research suggests that there is a continuous and positively reinforcing relationship between positive social connections, positive emotions, and physical wellbeing. A social cognitive perspective of emotion highlights that emotional contagion - the spread of positive or negative emotional states from one person to another and throughout a group - is a very real phenomenon, and the overall affective tone of a group has been linked to performance. My own PhD research (in progress!) is exploring some of this, looking at how different emotions and affective experiences sit within leadership models and consequently relate to outcomes.
But in recent years I’ve definitely pulled back on the all-in-positivity. (Needless to say, I don’t use that sign anymore, either.)
The problem with positivity is not positivity itself. I think the issue is that, particularly in recent decades, we tend to have begun framing positivity as an isolated concept. But it’s not.
I remember getting my first iPod and feeling like I held absolute magic in my palm (even though about 6% of its storage space was eventually filled by Limewire’s classic Bill Clinton track…). The Vision Pro, on first glance, brings me back to this memory. Even though there are other AR/VR headsets available on the market, Apple has a way of making you feel like this is the start of a whole new way of working, connecting, and existing in society. (Admittedly, I’m also someone highly susceptible to hype.)
But, in a world where we are already becoming more and more siloed away from each other, what would it mean to have mass adoption of VR headsets for everyday use? My initial reflections are that this tech could be a) absolutely incredible for the development of health interventions, particularly for some older, less mobile, or more vulnerable populations, and b) potentially quite concerning for the general populations’ social well-being…
“…This idea of generative conflict would have been really helpful, if both sides are bought into this thinking.
Which brings me to a question for you — what’s your view on conflict resolution? Is it needed? What about when not both parties are aligned in terms of self-awareness or are more on the side of attack. Is it better to simply agree to disagree, walk away (sometimes even in interests of self-preservation)?”
If you missed the last edition, I explored generative conflict alongside potential mechanisms we can employ to elevate our personal relationship with conflict. Generative conflict is typically characterised by an undertone of respect, listening, seeking solutions, exploring different perspectives, and keeping the conflict focused on the issue rather than the person.
So it becomes a pertinent question to ask… what if you enter a conflict space with this approach, but your counterpart didn’t get the memo? Is it still worth engaging in?
How to reframe interpersonal disagreements for better outcomes
I hate conflict. My natural inclination has always been to hesitate a little too long before addressing an issue, or to rationalise to myself that a confrontation would be unproductive… you know, this time around.
(Maybe next time.)
This philosophy, particularly early in my career, proved very convenient for avoiding direct conversations. Layer on my inherent need to be liked, and it’s meant that over the years I’ve had to resist these instincts to become more assertive. The instincts never leave, though.
When I ask others to raise a hand if they have a fear or dislike of conflict, I am usually met with a sea of hands. And this fear makes sense, because welcoming any kind of conflict will bring with it an invitation for instability and a potential recalibration of interpersonal dynamics.
Zoom fatigue and similar constructs generally describe the experience of exhaustion caused by sitting in many virtual meetings for long stretches of time; a process that seems disproportionately more draining than in-person work.
Research shows that this phenomenon tends to increase alongside app usage frequency, though notably, the quality of your internet connection also plays a role. And, as we might expect, ongoing exhaustion from poorly managed video calls could be a cause for concern. For example, some research has found a positive correlation between videoconferencing fatigue and burnout and depression.
Given the ubiquity of Zoom fatigue, researchers have been hard at work exploring this process in more depth. In a fantastic 2021 article, four theoretical arguments are presented by media psychologist Bailenson, all centring on the idea of Zoom causing ‘non-verbal overload’…
In my last piece, we discussed how great it is to connect with strangers. Now, in a total flip of the switch, I give you:
Why do so many “random act of kindness” videos feel so icky?
A recent trend that flew through TikTok, Instagram and other social media platforms came in the form of filming ‘random acts of kindness’.
In theory, random acts of kindness demonstrate the best humans have to offer: Compassion, empathy, and other-centredness. So why, when we’re watching these videos, can they prompt a tense friction between emotions — a positive response on one hand, but on the other, a kind of ickiness? Is this trend a true promotion of kindness and caring for those around us, or is it an inherently ego-centric gimmick that is far more centred on the promotion of the kindness-giver than anything else?
The counter-intuitive effects of incidental social interactions on wellbeing
In his book Friends, renowned evolutionary psychologist Robin Dunbar highlights the plethora of studies demonstrating the psychological and physical benefits of close social ties. Aside from emotional support and social fulfilment, friendships also link tolonger life spans and reduced risk of disease, and play a role inpsychological well-being.
As it turns out, though, connection and the benefits that accompany it are not limited to our closest family and friends. Weak ties — acquaintances, strangers — can also provide significant benefits.
As one is wont to do amidst Spotify wrapped Instagram stories, heartfelt Facebook posts, and twitter threads inviting me to make 2023 my best yet (follow my Substack to learn how!), I find myself prompted into reflection on the last 360-odd days.
In some ways, this year has been challenging. At a personal level, I’ve taken a seat on the periphery of some loss and some illness. I’ve also experienced some great highs. At a professional level, the year has been characterised by hard work, growth, and questioning. Questioning within my topic of research, because I started doctoral studies this year, but also questioning myself; where I want to go, what I want to focus on, and what’s important. That journey is ongoing. The three ideas below are ones that, in one way or another, came into focus for me this year, which I hope to carry into 2023.
I am at a stage where I’m looking forward to a little break over Christmas, but there is a lot of great stuff that I’m keen to make progress on in the interim. If you’re in a similar position, check out a few tips to help keep the momentum going for these final weeks of the year. None of these is particularly novel: Actually, they are mostly basic. And obvious. But when there’s a lot going on, it’s easy to lose sight of the basics, even though those usually serve us the most. Here’s what I’m focusing on at the moment:
Some human qualities are generally accepted as positive ones. Generosity. Honesty. Courage. Kindness. These are characteristics that we inherently assume are part of ‘goodness’; qualities we strive to instil in our children as they grow up. But is it a simplification to think that our strengths will always operate in our favour?
In ancient philosophy, Aristotle famously conceptualised the ‘golden mean’. The idea is that too much or too little of a virtue is problematic, and we should instead strive towards the middle. The old version of seeking out the porridge that’s ‘just right’. Many Greco-Roman philosophers warn of the dangers of excess and advocate for temperance, so perhaps this is not surprising.
As my social circle knows, I am ardently pro-vaccination. However, I have tried here to step back from my personal views to an extent and take an approach through the lens of behavioural science: What might influence our decision-making process when it comes to the COVID-19 vaccination?
What little nudges might we unknowingly experience that bump us towards one stance or the other?
“When we see such universality in moral rules, we know that they combat a tendency for people to do otherwise, and serve an important human need. The pancultural condemnation of lying is clear evidence that all humans are tempted to lie, and that lying is a threat to group cohesiveness and coordination everywhere.” — William Von Hippel, The Social Leap
People lie.
As a society, we seem to have become hyper-aware of lying over the last year. Perhaps we’re apprehensive of the ever-polarising mainstream media. Maybe it’s partly due to the rapid pace of the world since late 2019: When the media, politicians and other public figures make a statement about what will happen regarding Covid, for example, we can usually see if they were right or honest within a few weeks.
I’d guess most people have had moments like this; where they lock onto an idea and convince themselves that that, that thing, holds the final number of the combination to unlock their happiness and bring total fulfilment for the rest of their lives.
The problem is, it rarely does.
Sure, the pay rise or award won or wedding or new car boosts happiness for a while. But eventually, when the novelty wears off, we go right back to the same level of happiness we felt before it. Then, there’s a new ‘big thing’ we strive for, in hopes that it will fulfil us in the long term.
At least, that’s the case according to the theory known as the hedonic treadmill (or hedonic adaptation).
If you’ve ever been to university and had a group assessment task, you’ve probably encountered the social loafer.
You know who I mean: That person who is technically in the group, but if they weren’t it would make precisely zero practical difference to everyone else.
The loafer will rock up to the occasional group meeting, smile and nod when people are discussing the task, and agree with everything being said. But when crunch time arrives, and the rest of you are frantically trying to put the last pieces of your assessment together, the social loafer is nowhere to be seen.
