For
most of my life, my associations with the term "charm" have
been positive. Shocking at it may be to those that know me well, I
was often described as a "charming" person when I was
younger. I had always considered it close kin to "pleasant",
"kind", and "genial". Call it a bit of egomania
if you will, but because the term was pointed at me, I always
considered it to be a positive thing. In fact, I went out of my way
to be charming. It is a behavior that I studied and honed over time.
It became one of the primary tools in my toolbox in terms of dealing
with people.
I recently read a very interesting defensive tactics book by Rory Miller. His description of charm is an interesting one. While he describes it in the terms of a tool that predator uses to get close to a victim, he makes an interesting discussion of charm as a whole.
The short version of his theory: charm is not a natural behavior for human beings. It is a goal-oriented manipulation tactic. The goal need not be nefarious. People use charm to calm tense situations, fit into new social groups, and advance their careers. While these may seem different from the rapist trying to get close to a victim, I think Miller has right about the underlying mechanics being the same.
Charm is a subtle attempt at controlling another party.
This theory jives with my own life experience. I am not charming when I am taking out the garbage, doing the laundry, or buying groceries. I am not charming to people who do not have anything that I want. I don't really describe any of my close friends as charming, and I find that I do not (these days) employ any of my childhood tactics on them to "win them over". With those that I feel safe around, I simply do not exhibit charming behaviors.
(Here's a fun exercise: ask my wife if I am charming. Report back here with the response.)
While charm does work to an extent, I think somewhere in our lizard brains, humans recognize these attempts for what they are and either reject them or dole out a heavy dose of distrust to the would-be charmer. While I think some people are more susceptible to charm than others, I think this natural resistance is something common to humanity.
My reliance on this behavior has waned over the years. I understand why I did it as a child. I had a lot of uncertainty and anxiety in my home life, and I did not have any other tools at my disposal (wasn't faster, stronger, bigger, smarter, or better funded), so I used charm. It became a compulsive habit, a manifestation of my inherent insecurity. I controlled with charm for not reason other than that control made me feel safer. I did it unconsciously.
The first place I encountered where my charm hit a brick wall was martial arts. My teacher, and to a greater extent, his teacher, recognized the behavior for what it was immediately. Both made damn sure not to let it work on them even a little bit, openly pointing out my subconscious attempts to control situations. I ended up looking like an ass quite often. (We tend to adhere to our childhood safety strategies well beyond the time when they stop working.) Time passed, though, and instead of charm, I tried honesty, sincerity, commitment, and willingness to be vulnerable. Those worked a lot better, and infected the rest of my life. (But that is another book, in and of itself.)
In the earlier days of my law practice, I leaned on the charm tactic heavily in front of juries. After prosecutor gave a relatively dry and exhaustive voir dire to a jury pool, I'd get up and make them laugh. I'd joke about the free coffee, the boring nature of the process, and the bizarre little world the potential jurors had been thrust into. I used to attribute some of my victories to that charm, but in light of the revelations above, I've changed my mind.
Like my teachers in law, I've come to the conclusion that evidence wins cases, plain and simple. (I once had a juror tell me, after finding my client guilty, "You made a fine speech, son, but that guy was as guilty as the day was long. Better luck next time.") I've seen a mediocre attorney easily win a case against a magnificent one because of the evidence. If a lawyer's personality has something to do with an outcome, it is a very, very small percentage of that outcome.
Interestingly, a lot of professional jury analysts and behavioral scientists agree. I have recently started studying the scientific research that has been conducted regarding the jury system and why results happen the way they do. While I do not agree with all of it, these conclusions seem to keep repeating themselves in the literature:
1. There is a powerful negative stereotype about two types of lawyers - criminal defense lawyers and plaintiff's lawyers in injury cases. Criminal defense lawyers are hired guns that will get any hardened criminal off for a buck, and plaintiff's lawyers are parasites that grow rich the suffering of others. (Having been both, plaintiff and defense, I'll tell you that this is horseshit, and you'll get an earful from me if you suggest it around me. Regardless, this is the public perception, whether I like it or not.)
2. The hours or days you have for jury selection will not be enough to counteract this stereotype, no matter how persuasive you are.
3. Utilization of charm and other overt manipulation tactics in picking juries just confirms the negative stereotypes, and harms the attorney's credibility from the outset.
I've tried to tailor my approach to one that is more of a "just the facts" approach. I think this is helpful, because it builds credibility and, more importantly, allows the jurors to draw their own conclusions based on the evidence. I think this is a much more powerful and engaging approach. It goes back to what I was taught in law school: "Never tell, always show."
So, that is why I thought Miller's description was so interesting. It helped me articulate a revolution that has been going on in my own life, as well as my professional practice. I encourage you to look at your daily behaviors, and see if you utilize charm, or one of its cousins, as a habit.
And I'd further encourage you to see what happens if you stop. You might be surprised.
I recently read a very interesting defensive tactics book by Rory Miller. His description of charm is an interesting one. While he describes it in the terms of a tool that predator uses to get close to a victim, he makes an interesting discussion of charm as a whole.
The short version of his theory: charm is not a natural behavior for human beings. It is a goal-oriented manipulation tactic. The goal need not be nefarious. People use charm to calm tense situations, fit into new social groups, and advance their careers. While these may seem different from the rapist trying to get close to a victim, I think Miller has right about the underlying mechanics being the same.
Charm is a subtle attempt at controlling another party.
This theory jives with my own life experience. I am not charming when I am taking out the garbage, doing the laundry, or buying groceries. I am not charming to people who do not have anything that I want. I don't really describe any of my close friends as charming, and I find that I do not (these days) employ any of my childhood tactics on them to "win them over". With those that I feel safe around, I simply do not exhibit charming behaviors.
(Here's a fun exercise: ask my wife if I am charming. Report back here with the response.)
While charm does work to an extent, I think somewhere in our lizard brains, humans recognize these attempts for what they are and either reject them or dole out a heavy dose of distrust to the would-be charmer. While I think some people are more susceptible to charm than others, I think this natural resistance is something common to humanity.
My reliance on this behavior has waned over the years. I understand why I did it as a child. I had a lot of uncertainty and anxiety in my home life, and I did not have any other tools at my disposal (wasn't faster, stronger, bigger, smarter, or better funded), so I used charm. It became a compulsive habit, a manifestation of my inherent insecurity. I controlled with charm for not reason other than that control made me feel safer. I did it unconsciously.
The first place I encountered where my charm hit a brick wall was martial arts. My teacher, and to a greater extent, his teacher, recognized the behavior for what it was immediately. Both made damn sure not to let it work on them even a little bit, openly pointing out my subconscious attempts to control situations. I ended up looking like an ass quite often. (We tend to adhere to our childhood safety strategies well beyond the time when they stop working.) Time passed, though, and instead of charm, I tried honesty, sincerity, commitment, and willingness to be vulnerable. Those worked a lot better, and infected the rest of my life. (But that is another book, in and of itself.)
In the earlier days of my law practice, I leaned on the charm tactic heavily in front of juries. After prosecutor gave a relatively dry and exhaustive voir dire to a jury pool, I'd get up and make them laugh. I'd joke about the free coffee, the boring nature of the process, and the bizarre little world the potential jurors had been thrust into. I used to attribute some of my victories to that charm, but in light of the revelations above, I've changed my mind.
Like my teachers in law, I've come to the conclusion that evidence wins cases, plain and simple. (I once had a juror tell me, after finding my client guilty, "You made a fine speech, son, but that guy was as guilty as the day was long. Better luck next time.") I've seen a mediocre attorney easily win a case against a magnificent one because of the evidence. If a lawyer's personality has something to do with an outcome, it is a very, very small percentage of that outcome.
Interestingly, a lot of professional jury analysts and behavioral scientists agree. I have recently started studying the scientific research that has been conducted regarding the jury system and why results happen the way they do. While I do not agree with all of it, these conclusions seem to keep repeating themselves in the literature:
1. There is a powerful negative stereotype about two types of lawyers - criminal defense lawyers and plaintiff's lawyers in injury cases. Criminal defense lawyers are hired guns that will get any hardened criminal off for a buck, and plaintiff's lawyers are parasites that grow rich the suffering of others. (Having been both, plaintiff and defense, I'll tell you that this is horseshit, and you'll get an earful from me if you suggest it around me. Regardless, this is the public perception, whether I like it or not.)
2. The hours or days you have for jury selection will not be enough to counteract this stereotype, no matter how persuasive you are.
3. Utilization of charm and other overt manipulation tactics in picking juries just confirms the negative stereotypes, and harms the attorney's credibility from the outset.
I've tried to tailor my approach to one that is more of a "just the facts" approach. I think this is helpful, because it builds credibility and, more importantly, allows the jurors to draw their own conclusions based on the evidence. I think this is a much more powerful and engaging approach. It goes back to what I was taught in law school: "Never tell, always show."
So, that is why I thought Miller's description was so interesting. It helped me articulate a revolution that has been going on in my own life, as well as my professional practice. I encourage you to look at your daily behaviors, and see if you utilize charm, or one of its cousins, as a habit.
And I'd further encourage you to see what happens if you stop. You might be surprised.
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