At some level, we intuitively know that vulnerability tends to spark
cooperation and trust. But we may not realize how well this process works,
particularly when it comes to group interactions.
“People tend to think of vulnerability in a touchy-feely way, but that’s
not what’s happening,” “It’s about
sending a really clear signal that you have weaknesses, that you could use
help. And if that behavior becomes a model for others, then you can set the
insecurities aside and get to work, start to trust each other and help each
other. If you never have that vulnerable moment, on the other hand, then people
will try to cover up their weaknesses, and every little microtask becomes a place
where insecurities manifest themselves.”
Vulnerability is less about the sender than the receiver. “The second person
is the key,” “Do they pick it up and
reveal their own weaknesses, or do they cover up and pretend they don’t have
any? It makes a huge difference in the outcome.”
“You can actually see the people relax and connect and start to trust.
The group picks up the idea and says, ‘Okay, this is the mode we’re going to be
in,’ and it starts behaving along those lines, according to the norm that it’s
okay to admit weakness and help each other.”
This interaction can be called a vulnerability loop. A shared
exchange of openness, it’s the most basic building block of cooperation and
trust. Vulnerability loops seem swift and spontaneous, but they all follow the
same steps:
1. Person A sends a signal of vulnerability.
2. Person B detects this signal.
3. Person B responds by signaling their own vulnerability.
4. Person A detects this signal.
5. A norm is established; closeness and trust increase.
Each signal takes only a few seconds to deliver. But they’re vital,
shifting the dynamic and allowing two people who have been separate to function
as one. It’s useful to zoom in on this shift. Scientists have designed an
experiment to do exactly that, called the Give-Some Game. You and another
person, whom you’ve never met, each get four tokens. Each token is worth a
dollar if you keep it but two dollars if you give it to the other person. The
game consists of one decision: How many tokens do you give the other person?
This is not a simple decision. If you give all, you might end up
with nothing. Most people give an average of 2.5 tokens to a stranger —
slightly biased toward cooperation. But what’s interesting is how people tend
to behave when their vulnerability levels are increased a few notches.
In one experiment, subjects were asked to deliver a short presentation
to a roomful of people who were instructed by experimenters to remain silent.
They played the Give-Some Game afterward. You might imagine that the subjects
who endured this experience would respond by becoming less cooperative, but the
opposite turned out to be true: the speakers’ cooperation levels increased by
50 percent.
That moment of vulnerability did not reduce their willingness to
cooperate but boosted it. The inverse was also true: Increasing people’s sense
of power — tweaking a situation to make them feel more invulnerable —
dramatically diminished their willingness to cooperate.
We think about trust and vulnerability the way we think about standing
on solid ground and leaping into the unknown. First we build trust, then we
leap. But science is showing we’ve got it backward. Vulnerability doesn’t come
after trust — it precedes it. Leaping into the unknown, when done alongside
others, causes the solid ground of trust to materialize beneath our feet.
Groups quickly signed up. They were a cross-section of
America’s brightest minds: hackers, social media entrepreneurs, tech companies
and research universities. The vast majority took a logical approach to the
problem. They built tools to attack it. They constructed search engines to
analyze satellite photography technology, tapped into existing social and business
networks, launched publicity campaigns, built open-source intelligence
software, and nurtured communities of searchers on social media.
Most of us see vulnerability as a condition to be hidden. But when it
comes to creating cooperation, vulnerability is not a risk but a psychological
requirement. “Being vulnerable gets the
static out of the way and lets us do the job together, without worrying or
hesitating. It lets us work as one unit.”
Each loop was different yet shared a deeper pattern — an acknowledgment
of limits, a keen awareness of the group nature of the endeavor. The signal being
sent was the same: You have a role here. I need you.
Cooperation does not simply descend out of the blue. It is a group
muscle that is built according to a specific pattern of repeated interaction,
and that pattern is always the same: a circle of people engaged in the risky,
occasionally painful, ultimately rewarding process of being vulnerable
together.

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