The Road Less Traveled: How to Resist Conformity
The Road Less Traveled: How to Resist Conformity
Psychological gremlins push us toward following the crowd. Here’s how to fight back.
Table of Contents
Last year, we published guidelines on when to follow conventional wisdom vs. when to think like a contrarian. This essay has become our most popular post!
Unfortunately, our essay neglected an important detail: contrarian thinking is simple, but acting on contrarian beliefs isn’t always easy. After all, if marching to the beat of one’s own drum were both beneficial and easy, everyone would do it. Why don’t they?
For starters, being contrarian and wrong is often worse than mindlessly following the crowd. But let’s say you’re contrarian and correct – even then, you’ll struggle against psychological saboteurs that try to enforce conformity with the crowd. What are these saboteurs? How can we fight against them when we’re convinced that we’re contrarian and correct?
Let’s answer these questions by comparing two very different types of people.
CEOs Behaving Like Awkward Teenagers
Teenagers are notorious for jumping on the bandwagon. They use incomprehensible slang and punctuate their texts with innuendo-laden emojis. They surreptitiously watch what other teens are doing and follow suit. They hop on the newest apps and deride Facebook users as digital dinosaurs.
If you ask a teenager to explain their decision-making process, they’ll clumsily defend their actions with some variant of:
“All the cool kids are doing it.”
“Uhh, I don’t know” or “Umm, I just like it.”
“You wouldn’t understand” or “You just don’t get it” or “You’re out of touch.”
Hey, they’re confused adolescents with amorphous identities that will take years to coalesce. Might as well fill that void with the latest fads their peers are partaking in, right?
The parents of these teenagers roll their eyes…then they go to work and jump on the corporate bandwagon. They use incomprehensible jargon and punctuate their emails with euphemism-laden buzzwords (e.g. “let’s take this offline and circle back when we have the bandwidth”). Their CEOs and boards surreptitiously watch what competitors are doing and follow suit1. Senior leaders hop on the newest fads and tout these decisions as “the optimal method to position our organization for growth going forward.”
If you ask a CEO to explain their decision-making process, they’ll expertly defend their actions with a PowerPoint presentation full of professional-sounding buzzwords:
“We’re following best practices to protect shareholder value.”
“The organization is future-proofing itself with cutting-edge, state of the art technology.”
“It is imperative that we stay attuned to the present business climate to maintain our competitive advantage.”
Hey, they’re confused CEOs with amorphous visions for the future of their organizations. Might as well fill that void with the latest fads their peers are partaking in, right?
Wait a minute.
Many important decisions are thoughtfully debated behind closed doors, yet still result in conformity with the latest fashions2. Shrewd CEOs go even further by deploying smokescreens – they publicly parrot what competitors are doing while privately mining Cerebrium (crystallized secrets) in the Secret Grottos. It’s insulting to claim that a decision resulted from raging hormones and adolescent angst when, in truth, it’s the product of a careful analysis. That’s the decision-making equivalent of judging a book by its cover.
With those counterpoints in mind, why are we snidely insinuating that CEOs and other Executive Mountaineers are teenagers in suits? To answer that, let’s look more closely at the psychological conditions under which CEOs and teenagers make their decisions.
Gremlins in the Fog
Imagine an employee who ascends from the Middle Management Foothills to the ranks of senior leadership. As they settle into their corner office atop Executive Mountain, they gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows for a 30,000-foot view of their domain. What do they see?
You might imagine an aerial view of a manufacturing empire, an army of disciplined soldiers, or white-coated scientists in research labs. The COO/general/dean would look at the bustling activity below and think “everything the light touches is my kingdom.”
But in reality, the view from the top of Executive Mountain is a thick blanket of fog. The COO might catch an occasional glimpse of the shadowy factories hidden in the fog. The general can’t see the 42nd Infantry Brigade through the fog, but Colonel Invictus has reported no bad news so far. The dean knows that:
Dr. Ersatz is the world’s leading expert in underwater basket weaving
Dr. Eigenvector is pioneering an esoteric technology called “cosmic nanometallurgy” or something equally pretentious
There’s no reason to venture into the fog unless the former sleeps with another undergraduate or the latter blows another hole in the fabric of space-time.
What these senior leaders see from their corner offices is the Fog of Uncertainty. Low-level and middle managers live within the Fog. Senior executives must pierce it by reading reports (which are sometimes inaccurate or incomplete) from the lower echelons, and occasionally by diving into the Fog themselves.
Earlier, we drew parallels between CEOs and teenagers because both make decisions with incomplete information. An exhaustive analysis would take so long that the conclusion would be irrelevant by the time it’s formed. Sure, a CEO’s choices are weightier than a teen’s (“which multi-million dollar contract should we sign?” vs. “which outfit should I wear to school today?”), but the Fog of Uncertainty is equally opaque to both the CEO and the teenager. Ultimately, both must “trust their gut” and rely on instinct/intuition, lest they be stricken with analysis paralysis.
The Fog of Uncertainty has a special property that makes contrarian action more difficult than contrarian thinking. When we feel oppressed by the Fog, we feel anxious and stressed. Our doubts congeal into psychological gremlins that conspire to move us in only one direction: toward conformity. Even if you think you’re contrarian and right, the little gremlins make you feel like you should follow the crowd.
Let’s talk about our feelings, shall we?
Gremlin #1: Peer Pressure
The first gremlin is the least subtle of the bunch. Instead of whispering in your ear, it gets in your face and demands that you do what others are doing. Peer pressure is that tight sensation in your chest telling you to maintain your social standing, keep the peace, and avoid mockery.
Adolescents serve as the perfect example. How many teens actually enjoy the taste of cheap beer? Without external prompting, how many teens would choose to puff on a cough-inducing, noxious cigarette for long enough to become a nicotine slave? These social contagions spread at hangout spots and parties, where everyone is trying to gauge their place in the pecking order and impress that hottie who’s (probably) out of their league. Peer pressure thrives under the influence of the Fog of Uncertainty; all gremlins draw strength from our anxiety and stress.
Adults tend to engage in less self-destructive behaviors, but we’re no less susceptible to peer pressure. Most people would cringe at the thought of strapping a dog collar around their necks3, yet high-ranking men routinely don such a symbol of domesticity: the silk self-strangulation device called a necktie. And how many women enjoy removing every last shred of hair from the eyebrows down?
The key difference: adults use euphemisms to dress up our peer pressure as “professional conduct.”
Gremlin #2: Social Proof
Social proof is evidence of other people’s actions and beliefs. While Gremlin #1 is best described as “imitation by coercion,” Gremlin #2 can be distilled into “monkey see, monkey do.” Peer pressure bellows when others watch us. Social proof whispers when we watch others.
Once again, teenagers are great examples of social proof. When the popular kids do drugs or brag about their sexual conquests, other adolescents feel the urge to keep up. Education programs designed to curtail these behaviors often end up backfiring; they inadvertently create social proof by suggesting that all the other kids are boinking each other or getting blitzed out of their skulls. If anything, those programs create a fear of missing out on all the drugs and sex the other kids are (supposedly) enjoying!
Some examples of social proof from the adult world:
The list of most popular articles on a website (we have one of those on our homepage 😉)
Reviews for the Gizmotron Prime 14S+ left by strangers on the internet
Likes, hearts, and disembodied hands👍plastered on a social media post
The number of five-star ratings, Michelin stars, or health code violations on a restaurant
Folding money stuffed into a tip jar (which is always transparent!) or collection plate
Social proof doesn’t even have to be genuine to influence our behavior. The owners of tip jars and collection plates often “salt” the empty vessel with money to get the ball rolling. Remember the pre-recorded laugh tracks played in the background of old TV shows? Artificial laughter is the latest iteration of a centuries-long practice of hiring audience members to exaggerate their enthusiasm and applaud wildly. If you’ve ever started applauding because someone else started, then stopped clapping after you noticed a decline in volume, you’ve been swept along by social proof.
Like all gremlins, the power of social proof is enhanced by the stress and anxiety we feel under the Fog of Uncertainty. Ever sit through a confusing presentation, but no one raises a hand when the presenter asks, “any questions?” That’s the social proof gremlin whispering in everyone’s ear: no one else has a question, therefore you’re the only idiot in the room! Keep quiet or you’ll “out” yourself as an ignoramus who chews with her mouth open. But as soon as one brave participant starts with “this might be a stupid question, but…” everyone else starts raising their hands and asking “stupid” questions!
The same pattern happens with the bystander effect at crime scenes and accidents. If it’s unclear whether a victim needs help, and bystanders are standing around taking videos on their phones, the social proof gremlin tells us to join the rubberneckers. But as soon as someone leaps into action, they inspire bystanders to become heroes.
Mass suicides are also driven, in large part, by social proof. We can’t succinctly explain why, so we’ll refer you to Dr. Robert Cialdini’s excellent book Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion – specifically, the chapter on social proof, which contains a detailed account of the 1978 Jonestown mass suicide.
Gremlin #3: Deference to Authority
Are teenagers deferential to authority? Parents of unruly teens might say “no,” but we observe that teens are very submissive to those they consider actual authority figures – online influencers, celebrities and musicians, college admissions committees (and other gatekeepers to things that teens actually want), and the cool kids at the apex of the high school food chain.
Like the other gremlins, deference to authority becomes exponentially stronger when infused with the Fog of Uncertainty. When someone announces shocking news at a meeting, all eyes turn toward the leader for guidance and decisive action. The Milgram shock experiments demonstrated that when a regular person is subjected to the Fog of Uncertainty, they become obedient enough to torture another innocent person simply because an authority figure told them to do so. As the torturers obeyed instructions to escalate the intensity of electric shocks, they became increasingly uncomfortable – but most complied long enough to administer what (they believed) was a lethal blast of electricity. In reality, the electric shocks were fake, and the “victim” was an actor who pretended to scream in agony; the experiments were designed to test whether Nazi war criminals were evildoers with hearts of darkness, or if they were just following orders.
…by luring unsuspecting Americans into what must’ve been the most stressful prank in their lives.
Gremlin #4: Self-Deception
We have an entire series on the lies we tell in leadership, and the first post was on self-deception.
Deluding ourselves is one thing that adults do better than teenagers. We think an “adult” is a teenager who has created a set of elaborate masquerade masks, and has practiced the art of seamlessly swapping among the masks to fit the social environment. Over time, we adults eventually become so adept at tricking others with our exquisite masks that we forget who we were underneath. We’ve spent years honing our plausible-sounding narratives for why everyone should be treated equally, yet I deserve a raise. Adults are experts at the mental gymnastics of compartmentalization and rationalization, allowing us to cherry-pick during a job interview without any ethical qualms.
Intuitively, we’re tempted to think that smart people are less prone to self-deception…but we’ve experienced quite the opposite. When the Fog of Uncertainty billows in, clever people find many ways to create a personal bubble of certainty:
Using fancy corporate buzzwords: “We’re following best practices that are standard in our industry” or “let’s execute a strategic pivot to refocus on our core competencies.”
Reciting thought-terminating clichés: “We’re overthinking this” or “don’t fix what ain’t broken” or “we’ve been doing this for years.”
Building a black-box mathematical model that can be
tampered withcalibrated to justify any decision, good or bad.Weaponizing scientific research to reinforce a foregone conclusion.
These bubbles of certainty allow travelers to cover great distances in the Fog. However, if a traveler isn’t guided by the light of truth, they can run great distances in the wrong direction while thinking they’re approaching their destination. In other words: self-deception turns our greatest asset into our greatest liability.
We’re all prone to confirmation bias. The gremlin of self-deception tantalizes us with the lantern of false certainty, and smart people are best equipped to chase after it in the Fog. That’s how the treacherous little bastard diverts us from the path of truth-seeking and into the Desert of Good Intentions. Or worse - the Career Swamp.
To sum up our experiences with Gremlin #4 and self-deception:
A smart person’s enhanced ability to be generally correct is counterbalanced by their enhanced ability to be precisely wrong.
Seeking Solitude in the Contrarian Caves
The Contrarian Caves beneath Leadership Land are unpopular for many reasons. Not only are they murky, filthy, and hazardous, the Fog-borne gremlins pull us away from the Caves and push us toward conformity. If the gremlins have their way, we will never set foot in the Secret Grottos to mine its rich veins of Cerebrium.
How do you march to the beat of your own drum when your brain is hardwired for groupthink? You can start by knowing your enemy and knowing yourself:
Know yourself: If you’re blessed with a stubborn streak, lean into it. Many of us were impertinent and skeptical as teenagers before we disguised ourselves with the masks of professional decorum and the cardstock of academic diplomas. Can you revive some of that rebelliousness?
Know your enemy:
None of the gremlins are as powerful as common emotions like wrath, envy, and lust. We put the gremlins under a microscope in this essay, making them appear much bigger and stronger than they really are4.
Three of the gremlins are social influences. Distancing yourself from other people will de-fang them.
All four gremlins derive their power from the Fog of Uncertainty. Even if you can’t see the light of truth, you can resist the allure of false certainty and avoid the energy wastage of running in the wrong direction.
Here are some actionable steps to help you remain clear-headed when you’re convinced you’re contrarian and right:
Collaborate less. Open office plans are playgrounds for the three social gremlins. You can mitigate this by generating and debating ideas in groups, but making decisions in the privacy of your office.
Board, committee, or council members can form their own opinions before meetings, but don’t have the luxury to cast votes in private (unless the bylaws allow voting in absentia). If a game-changing detail emerges during a meeting, try deferring the vote until the next meeting. This buys you space to consider that new piece of information between meetings, free from peer pressure and time pressure.
Choose the right influences. Most parents fight an uphill battle to influence their teens (authority). Contrast that struggle with the effortless influence wielded by the teenager’s friends (peer pressure and social proof). Even in adulthood, our peers exert constant influence over us. If you’re stuck with this influence, might as well make the most of it, right? Wouldn’t you prefer the pleasant paradox of colleagues who conform with nonconformist thinking? If your coworkers are dedicated to ignoring false certainties, your social gremlins might actually help you overcome your self-deceit gremlin!
Conduct mental rehearsals. If you’re unprepared for the Fog of Uncertainty, you’ll feel like a deer in the headlights when it swallows you. You can avoid this helpless state by reading our article on preventing problems with a pre-mortem analysis. For example: imagine yourself at the scene of an accident where people are gawking (bystander effect). Take charge immediately. Point at someone, make eye contact, and give a direct order: “You: the woman in the red shirt. Call 911 (USA)/Call 112 (EU). You: man in the blue jacket. Find me a first-aid kit.” After a few people start helping, social proof will turn other bystanders into helpers.
Never let a good crisis go to waste. During a disaster, the Fog of Uncertainty thickens into an opaque veil. If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs (because you conducted your pre-mortems and they didn’t!), you can exploit all four gremlins in other people’s heads. Use peer pressure and authority to push through changes that would normally stall. Take decisive action toward cleaning up the mess, and make them visible – social proof will draw other people in. Provide the certainty that everyone craves, and even your superiors may defer to you.
Recite mantras and poems. These can weaken the gremlins and calm an agitated mind. Our favorites:
“Be greedy when others are fearful, and fearful when others are greedy.”
“Today I will do what others won’t, so tomorrow I can do what others can’t.”
“[Insert deity here], grant me the strength to change what I can, the serenity to accept what I cannot, and the wisdom to tell the difference.”
If— by Rudyard Kipling
Invictus by William Earnest Henley
I to my perils by A. E. Housman
Search for disconfirmatory evidence. This one’s specific to the self-deception gremlin. Confirmation bias is the reason we chase after the light of false certainty. If you find evidence against your conclusions, or you deduce reasons not to take a certain action, weigh those disconfirmatory elements more heavily than confirmatory evidence. Find the light of truth through the process of eliminating the false certainties.
Should You Take the Road Less Traveled?
Robert Frost’s famous poem “The Road Not Taken” is commonly regarded as a metaphorical tribute to contrarian thinking. Here’s the final three lines:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Taken in context, however, the whole poem is about retrospective distortion:
The narrator encounters a fork in the road
He chooses one road on a flimsy pretext while admitting that the two are functionally identical
Later, he embellishes the difference between the two roads and exaggerates the importance of picking one over the other.
Both interpretations suit our purposes. Being contrarian means taking the road less traveled; being contrarian and correct sometimes makes all the difference. To that end, we hope this essay will help you make better decisions under uncertainty. Even if your decision-making improves by a modest 10%, such an improvement will compound to a 10x better outcome after many, many decisions made over a decades-long career.
But taking the road less traveled is rarely a pleasant stroll in the woods. The Fog of Uncertainty makes it a dark and difficult journey.
Being contrarian and wrong is usually worse than complying with the gremlins of peer pressure, social proof, and deference to authority. Sometimes, there’s no wrong answer, but conformity is the lesser of two evils. And sometimes, like the narrator in Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken,” we deceive ourselves into thinking that the two choices are more different than they really are.
We’ll leave you with a set of armor-piercing questions:
Am I suffering for the right reasons?
Am I being contrarian for its own sake, or to achieve superior results?
What would I do if I weren’t afraid?
Searching for answers will help you push back the Fog of Uncertainty and dim the light of false certainty.
Salient example: the late-1970s through the mid-1990s was a period of merger and acquisition (M&A) fever. The Coca-Cola Company acquired a movie studio. PepsiCo bought fast-food companies like Pizza Hut, Taco Bell, and KFC. Philip Morris and R.J. Reynolds (tobacco companies) swallowed Kraft foods and Nabisco, respectively. Notice how the M&A activity of one company inspired mirror moves in their direct competitors. All of these companies have since divested their oddball purchases (“non-core” in CEO-speak).
Some rational (but not necessarily ethical) examples:
Satisfying customer requests for buzzword-compliant products. The customer may always be right, but isn’t always rational.
Exploiting a tax or regulatory loophole that encourages mimicry.
Externalizing costs to improve an organization’s bottom line, e.g. dumping toxic waste.
Externalizing culpability to cover one’s ass(ets), e.g. hiring a management consultant. “Heads: I win. Tails: it was the consultant’s idea!”
Protecting market share by avoiding a costly arms race with competitors. In a mature market dominated by a duopoly or oligopoly, stasis may be preferable to starting a price war for more market share. If the overall economic pie is no longer growing, then fighting for a bigger slice of the pie usually results in everyone competing away their profits. This “paradox of competition” is a recurring theme in Leadership Land’s Fiery Hells of Competition.
People with BDSM leanings would be titillated by it, but a board meeting is hardly the place to indulge one’s kinks.
If you took a psychology course anytime between the 1950s and 2010, you were probably taught outdated information:
The bystander effect (Gremlin #2: social proof) is nowhere near as strong as psychology textbooks claim. The original case study (the murder of Kitty Genovese) was grossly exaggerated.
The Asch
gaslightingconformity experiments found that people became more likely to conform with the judgment of seven other people (who were actors scripted to give incorrect answers) even when the majority opinion was obviously wrong. Psychology textbooks almost universally exaggerate the results of those experiments.In general, many psychology studies in the past decades have fallen victim to the replication crisis. Some studies (e.g. Stanford marshmallow experiment) reproduced with weaker effects than the original. Others (e.g. power posing) have reproduced about as well as a eunuch stranded on a desert island.
Many psychological concepts still exist and still contribute to decision-making – just not as powerfully as older research in the latter half of the 20th century would suggest.