Kung fu and clown shoes

Have you ever made a proposal in a serious business negotiation and been met with a response that wouldn’t look out of place in a street market? Maybe a gasp, or a violent exhalation of breath, or hands thrown in the air or maybe even all three followed by a silent stare?

What you experienced is what negotiators call a “professional flinch”. The theory behind the flinch is actually pretty solid; the idea is to respond to a negotiation proposal in a non-verbal way that communicates displeasure. The intention is to communicate that displeasure without antagonising the other party as an argument might, and create a degree of discomfort which influences the counterparty at a subconscious level to improve their proposal. Used well it can be surprisingly effective, but when used inappropriately it is the negotiating equivalent of wearing clown shoes.

One senior UK sales manager in FMCG is so notorious for his theatrical flinching he’s become a laughing stock and yet he persists with it. Like any negotiation tactic; once it’s clear what you’re doing it becomes predictable. Once it’s predictable, effective negotiators are going to find ways to exploit it (in this case the counterparties pander to the negotiator’s ego by acting as though the flinches work and then rewarding them with pre-planned proposals. The negotiator’s ego is satisfied and the buyer takes what they need).

Chess prodigy and world champion martial artist Josh Waitzkin, in his excellent book “The Art of Learning”, describes approaches to learning any skill that are applicable to improving negotiation outcomes. The principle that applies here is what he calls making “Ever Smaller Circles”.

Waitzkin describes the process of learning to throw a punch. This starts with what he terms “rooting”; the correct combination of foot placement and balance that allows the martial artist to draw strength from their legs up; it continues through the subtle movement of hips, back, shoulder, arm, wrist, fist and finally the placement of the knuckle to direct maximum force, with maximum efficiency. The fighter practices this again and again until it becomes second nature and they are able to punch with maximum force. Waitzkin then goes on to make a sobering point; perfecting this methodology does you very little good in an actual fight because an experienced opponent will see that punch coming long before it can connect. Even if the wind-up takes a split second, the truly world class fighters have internalised their reading of the opponent and the whole process could appear to them to be happening in slow motion. They read the intention and have time to select a response.

So once the punch is perfected, the next task is to fine tune every aspect of it to achieve maximum effect with minimum effort. Waitzkin does this by training what he terms “ever smaller circles”; the constant, conscious, incremental improvement of every aspect of technique. The great martial artists can conjure immense power from minimal movement (search for video of Bruce Lee’s notorious “One inch punch” to see this in action). The goal is to refine the technique to the point where you achieve all the effect of the technique without “telegraphing” what you’re doing.

So to negotiation. The “Eyes-bulging, spittle flying” professional flinch is the equivalent of a flailing haymaker punch. Just as you only see big swinging punches being thrown by drunks in pub car parks, the only place to be throwing flinches fit for the pantomime stage is your local Sunday market. There are trainers who will tell you that big flinches are appropriate in competitive negotiation situations and subtler flinches only become appropriate as the negotiations get more complex and trusting. I entirely disagree.

It is never appropriate to make yourself look like an idiot. And, just as the drunk who tries to throw a flailing “haymaker” punch in a pub car park usually just overbalances and lands flat on their face, so the negotiator who carries on like Widow Twankey in a serious business meeting will be met with bemusement and ridicule. Having said all that, I remain a huge advocate of the professional flinch.

The flinch is highly effective because it has the effect of causing the counter-party to experience doubt in their position. Human beings are social animals, so on a subliminal level we experience angst when we sense that the mood of an encounter is deteriorating. The flinch introduces social discomfort and implies disapproval, which can have the effect of making the counter-party crave approval and a return to a more comfortable state. You make them crave approval, which can only be gained by making proposals that are more favourable to you. Because the flinch is non-verbal, it acts on the counter-party’s subconscious mind. This is important because the alternative (to say something negative about their proposal) is counterproductive. Whatever you say may draw reciprocation from the other side (they tell you that your last proposal was rubbish) and/or positions become more entrenched as both sides start to invest emotional capital in defending them. Instead, the flinch conveys disappointment and social awkwardness. It can be surprisingly powerful.

The trick with the flinch, then, is to learn to achieve all of the effect without the amateur dramatics. You do this through the use of Waitzkin’s “Ever Smaller Circles”. Consider the effect you want your flinch to have, and then train yourself to achieve it as subtly as you possibly can. Whether the context is a simple, positional negotiation or a complex, integrative negotiation, the flinch should have more in common with the Jedi Mind Trick than a slapstick pratfall. The master flinchers are the ones who can make your blood turn to ice with a raised eyebrow, not the ones who jump up and down pretending to hyperventilate every time you make a proposal. The masters achieve that effect by practice and focus. Not lazily kidding themselves that feigning horror is going to have any impact on a seasoned negotiator.

In flinching, as in so many other aspects of life, the words of Antoine de Saint Exupery apply; “Perfection is attained not when there is nothing left to add; but when there is nothing left to take away”.