The Ben Franklin Effect

 

Hey, bud, can you spot me a Benjamin?

Ever since first grade at Epiphany Catholic School in New York City, I have been extremely interested in The Art of Making Friends. I’d observe the popular kids in the lunchroom and at recess, and try desperately to emulate them. Was it their enviable hair (long, blond, poker straight) and freckle-free skin, so unlike mine? The casually elegant way they wore their navy-blue uniforms (skirt always hiked up to be precisely short enough to look cool, yet not short enough to rate a reprimand from Sister Bernadette?) Apart from their looks, what did they say and do that attracted classmates like honeybees to clover?

For decades, the answers eluded me, and even now, at age 65, I still look at the people on EVERYONE’s dinner party invitation list and wonder what I’m missing. Now mind you, I now have a cherished circle of true friends that I value beyond measure (though I’m a bit puzzled by their interest in being MY buddies). But I still yearn for more, an “overflowing cathedral at my funeral” amount of amigos. In particular, I am determined to win over the people who dislike me (or are totally indifferent). But how?

Of course, I turned to the oracle of oracles, Benjamin Franklin himself, for a tutorial. That peripatetic author, inventor, statesman and sage was also immensely popular. What was Ben’s secret? Was it his jaunty powdered wig? The casually elegant way he wore his waistcoat and breeches? Lucky for me, Mr. Franklin spilled the beans, writing about a clever stratagem that has come to be known as The Ben Franklin Effect. 

The BFE (as I like to call it) involves turning an enemy into a friend by—get this—allowing THEM to do a favor for YOU. Counterintuitive, right? But apparently it works. Seems back in ye olden days, Franklin figured out how to ingratiate himself with a non-admirer: he asked the man if he could borrow a book from him. And when the loan took place, there was a shift in Ben’s adversary. Suddenly he became quite agreeable, and in the end they were great chums. It all has to do with something called cognitive dissonance. We mentally order our universe so that there is harmony—no things that don’t make sense. Therefore, when the man loaned the book to Ben, he justified the action to himself by saying “I wouldn’t do that nice thing for Franklin if I didn’t like him, therefore I must like him.” Voila! Ben had made a friend by letting him do a favor!

I am eager to try out the BFE myself, and see if I can increase the ranks of my friends. I plan to ask enemies, acquaintances and even total strangers if I can borrow stuff: a cup of sugar, $100 until payday, that sort of thing. And when I rake in my bounty, I’ll have the bonus of raking in new admirers too.

Does anyone have a copy of Poor Richard’s Almanac they could loan me?