Tricked by the Trappings of Authority?

One truth of social life, so powerfully explained in Robert Cialdini’s remarkable book, Influence: Science and Practice, is that we are often unaware of how others can influence our behavior. Frequently, we respond to “trigger features” in the social environment and comply with requests in an automatic fashion. I think this is especially true of our compliance to people who, because of their apparent expertise or power, seem imbued with an aura of authority. What “triggers” our response is whatever trappings of authority we perceive as granting them this authority.

An incident happened to me years ago that rammed home this truth so indelibly that I like to think it made me less susceptible to this particular type of automatic influence.

I decided to take a year off from college, found a job, and saved up enough money to take a bicycle trip across the country. My plan was to start from San Francisco and make my way back to North Carolina where I lived. Going west to east would let me take advantage of the prevailing winds. With my bike taken apart and packed in a container, I flew out to San Francisco. Upon arrival I retrieved the container, reassembled my bike, and soon was ready to cycle to a place where I had arranged to stay a few nights before starting my adventure.

Before setting out I needed to use the restroom, but wheeling my bike into the restroom proved awkward. And with my front and back panniers full of valuables, locking the bike on a rack wasn’t feasible. I saw a police officer and asked him if he’d watch my bike while I used the restroom. It never occurred to me to question the wisdom of this decision. After all, he was a police officer. I leaned my bike against a wall under his watchful eye.

After exiting the restroom, I found the officer standing with his hands folded behind his back and looking straight ahead. I couldn’t see my bike. I went up to him to get his attention, but he simply glanced at me as if he’d never seen me before.

My thoughts began to spin. I remember feeling a little dizzy. What had I done! Almost everything of value was on the bike. In the front pannier was all my extra money (how stupid was that?), as well as my prized Nikkormat camera that I had scrimped and saved for. The bike, pretty much everything, was gone. I had trusted this guy without a trace of hesitation. Now, it would be his word, a police officer, against mine. Welcome to the Big City, yokel from North Carolina. The bike adventure was over before it started.

Another police officer came around a corner, guiding my bike. The first officer grinned broadly and then they both doubled over with laughter.

For a short, crazy second I had a good mind to knee the first guy in a tender region, but gratitude and relief replaced this impulse just as quickly. I shook my head, a gesture admitting my stupidity. It was a lesson I needed to learn sooner rather than later. After that, I trusted NO ONE until they had earned my trust.

Cialdini points out that we are more likely to automatically comply with requests from those whose authority seems legitimate. Most of the time, it’s to our benefit, which is why we are vulnerable to people willing to fake their credentials. Police officers have high legitimacy, and most of us wouldn’t think of questioning what they ask (order) us to do. And it is their uniform that’s the trigger. Testimony to its power is that some people are willing to masquerade as police officers and then commit crimes disturbing to contemplate. I mean, how can one tell a real cop from a fake?

Fortunately for me these police officers were real and asked nothing from me. I had made the request and had found myself the butt of a practical joke—and a practical one it was.