Time To Don A Tinfoil Hat?

Fri, 30 May 2008 11:02:00 -0400

Subliminal messages are a topic of endless curiosity. You have people who think they don't work. Then you have those (a whopping 70%, as reported in one study) who believe they do. Finally, there are the tinfoil-hat-wearing conspiracy theorists who believe subliminal messages are a form of mind control -- if the FCC banned them, they have to be dangerous, right? So what's going on here? Here at Taylor, we participate in a quarterly internal workshop that deals with philosophical and sociological ideas and their applications to market research. This quarter, the topic was subliminal messaging, and Nikki Lavoie and I led the discussion. All the fuss about subliminal messages started after the release of a study done by James Vicary in the 1950s. He claimed that imperceptibly flashing the words "Eat Popcorn" and "Drink Coke" during a movie led to increased sales of those respective products. But it was all a big hoax; the study never happened. Nevertheless, the gripping fear of subliminal mind control lingers 50 years later. Just for clarity, when I say subliminal, I mean something your mind picks up on but you don't know it consciously. Some believe a subliminal message is hidden information that can be spotted when pointed out, somewhat like an advertising Where's Waldo. Some may even think product placement is a subliminal message, since it is covert advertising. However, for something to be truly subliminal, it has to fly below the radar of perception; no matter how long you look or how hard you listen, you will never be able to detect it. Studies over the years on subliminal messages have met limited success. Those who do support the idea that subliminal messages change product preference or likelihood to buy are those whose research methodologies are quite dodgy, often using poor controls and unequal comparisons. Interestingly, though, biological research shows that the brain does pick up on subliminal images; however, their effects are fleeting. Not one shred of evidence has shown subliminal messages can control or even sway buying behavior -- subliminal messages just do not lead to subliminal persuasion. So, is it time to take out the tinfoil and make myself a chic chapeau? Perhaps not just yet. Instead, I think I'll save my Reynolds for the arrival of the mother ship.

Rhetorically Speaking

Fri, 06 Jul 2007 15:59:00 -0400

As dedicated readers of Praxis (and we know you're out there!) have surmised, argumentation is a popular pastime here at Taylor. Not in a hostile or confrontational sense, but defined more literally -- as in the presentation and elaboration of an argument or point of view. In fact, presenting and elaborating points of view is at the very heart of what I do professionally, from writing proposals that attempt to convince the reader to select us, to reports that offer a point of view on what our findings say and mean. What's more, being a bit (maybe more than a bit) over-analytical by nature, I've always been interested not just in analyzing research results themselves, but also in analyzing the analysis. In other words, understanding the different strategies and techniques for making an argument. This, in turn, has led to my interest in classical rhetoric -- or, the art of persuasive discourse. Granted, you're not going to find books on rhetoric on The New York Times bestsellers list or displayed at your local Barnes & Noble. They're not even easy to find as textbooks, given that rhetoric long ago went out of style as an academic subject. (There are several good books still around, though: editions of Aristotle's Rhetoric, of course, but also broader surveys of the subject, like Classical Rhetoric for the Modern Student by Edward P. J. Corbett and Robert J. Connors and In Defence of Rhetoric by Brian Vickers.) In spite of rhetoric's demise as an academic subject, I personally believe that an understanding of rhetoric helps me tremendously in my own argumentation. For example, simply understanding there are three fundamental modes of persuasion (logos: persuasion based on reason and logic; ethos: persuasion based on the character and reputation of the writer; and pathos: persuasion based on emotional appeal) not only helps me structure my own writing, but also helps me identify and more clearly understand the tactics others use in their attempts to persuade me. I've also always had an interest in trying to identify logical fallacies in the arguments of others (like begging the question, ad hominem arguments, or the slippery slope), not to mention rhetorical figures of speech. For example, did you know that when you draw attention to something by saying you're not going to talk about it -- "not to mention rhetorical figures of speech" -- there's a term for that: apophasis? (Side note: I do have a life -- really!) But there's a nagging question in all of this: does an understanding of the guts of an argument really make one better at arguing? I don't think about the parts of speech I'm using when I write, but I can put a decent sentence together. I don't understand much about how my car engine works, but I consider myself a pretty good driver. Does -- can -- an understanding of rhetoric improve the ability to present a point of view? And I mean that as an actual -- not a rhetorical -- question. Tell me what you think.

The Taylor Group Blog - Ideas in Action

Time To Don A Tinfoil Hat?

Rhetorically Speaking