Why
Criticism Is So Tough To Swallow (And How To Make It Go Down Easier)
We're used to giving
"praise sandwiches"—a criticism wedged in between two generic
compliments—that give our brains indigestion.
A few years ago, I was working hard on a
scrappy document that would eventually blossom into my first-ever book. It was
still very early in the project, and I was hungry for guidance. So I was
delighted that a colleague, who I'll call Matt, had agreed to review my efforts
and offer some constructive feedback. When he did, it went something like this:
Matt: "You’re
doing great! Here’s what I think you should change . . . [followed by a
thoughtful explanation of six suggestions for improvement] Other than that,
it’s great!"
Me: "Um,
okay, thanks."
Matt was diligently following advice he’d
once been given about the right way to give feedback. In his mind, he was
making a tasty "praise sandwich"—saying one positive thing on either
side of his criticism in order to make his comments feel less demotivating. He
was trying to be considerate, yet I’d walked away feeling strangely
discouraged. It was the opposite of what he’d intended.
That was hardly surprising, though, given a
few things we know about the way our brains work.
Praise
is a social reward that’s very appealing. But on balance, we are more sensitive
to threats than to rewards.
At any given time,
brains are subconsciously scanning the world around us for dangers to defend
against—ready to launch a fight, flight, or freeze response that will protect
us from predators or poisons. But the brain doesn’t just guard us against
physical threats. Research has found that
it also goes on the defensive in response to things that threaten to undermine
our social standing and safety, including interactions that make us feel even
mildly rejected or incompetent. Since even being glanced at askance by a
stranger can be enough to trigger our defenses,
you can bet that receiving critical feedback is pretty likely to spark a fight,
flight, or freeze response.
That matters
because when our brains are in defensive mode, studies have shown that
there’s reduced
activity in the brain’s prefrontal cortex. That’s where our
most sophisticated mental machinery generally lives: the neural systems
responsible for self-control, reasoning, and forethought.
So it’s no wonder
we don’t always respond graciously to feedback; it’s quite likely that our most
thoughtful, attentive, flexible selves are somewhat offline. In fact, it’s
possible that we’re not even properly listening. By the time Matt got to the
third of his six suggestions, I was daydreaming about giving up the whole idea
of writing a book (and considering what would happen if I perhaps punched him,
gently).
And as for Matt's praise? Surely his warm words should have offset the sense of threat in my mind, right? Not exactly. It’s true that our brains constantly seek out rewards as well as threats. That's why we’re drawn toward things that make us feel good—and praise is a social reward that’s very appealing. But on balance, we are more sensitive to threats than to rewards. From an evolutionary standpoint, it's more important to be able to bolt from a burning house than to charge toward a cozy fireside sofa.
And as for Matt's praise? Surely his warm words should have offset the sense of threat in my mind, right? Not exactly. It’s true that our brains constantly seek out rewards as well as threats. That's why we’re drawn toward things that make us feel good—and praise is a social reward that’s very appealing. But on balance, we are more sensitive to threats than to rewards. From an evolutionary standpoint, it's more important to be able to bolt from a burning house than to charge toward a cozy fireside sofa.
What's more, it’s
easier for our brains to process and remember specifics than to handle
conceptual ideas. Research
has found that we remember concrete words like
"chair" better than abstract words like "comfort." As a
result, if we hear a generic positive statement ("It’s great! You’re
great!") followed by a list of specific things we should change, our
brains will quickly discount that quick splash of praise and focus entirely on
the negatives.
That's what made it so hard for me to digest
Matt’s praise sandwich. He meant well, but he might just as well have said,
"Hey, here’s a bunch of things you need to do better," since that’s
pretty much all I heard.
Thankfully, this understanding of the brain
reveals a little routine that we can all use to ensure that helpful feedback
lands as it’s intended. It goes like this:
1.
Tell the other person: "What I like about
this is . . ." Give meaningful, specific examples of what you like, and
explain why you like them. Aim for as many concrete positive points as you can.
Don’t rush.
2.
Then say: "What would make me like it
even more is . . ."
The goal in the
first of these two steps is to be at least as tangible and forthcoming in your
praise as you are in your criticism—not just saying "it’s great,"
but what specifically is "great" about it. (Matt
might've said, "I really liked the way you pulled in survey data to
support your argument, for example in the section on page two. It tells a great
story and sticks in the reader’s mind.") These sorts of details matter;
they make it far more likely that the person properly absorbs the fact that you
value aspects of whatever they’ve said or done.
Be at
least as concrete and forthcoming in your praise as you are in your criticism.
Then, when you introduce your suggestion for
improvement with the phrase, "What would make me like it even more,"
you’re framing your comment as an idea that—if explored—could take the other
person from good to great, rather than something they were really dumb not to have
done. You’re still making the point you need to make, but it feels much less
threatening to your listener's competence and self-respect than the usual,
"How about doing this differently?"
Taken together, these two sentences can
greatly improve your chances of keeping the other person’s brain out of
defensive mode as you give them feedback, making it far more likely that you’ll
have a productive and good-natured conversation. This way, they can actually
process your feedback intelligently and decide whether to act on it.
For what it’s worth, this "What I like .
. ." feedback model can help you as the feedback-giver, too, because being
forced to find something you like—however hard it is to uncover it—often
reveals something useful that you might've missed had you led with your
criticisms.
Finally, if you’re the one habitually
receiving feedback rather than giving it, you can do what I eventually did with
Matt, which is to simply ask him to give me brain-friendly feedback. I didn’t
have to use any jargon, either. "First of all, can you tell me exactly
what you liked and why?" I said. "It’s important for me to learn from
that. I want to know what I should keep doing, or do more of. Then you can tell
me what would make you like it even more!" The result? A fine, fistfight-free
working relationship—and a finished book to boot.
Caroline Webb is
the author of How
to Have a Good Day: Harness the Power of Behavior Science to Transform Your
Working Life (Crown Business, 2016) and is CEO of
Sevenshift, a firm specializing in science-based coaching.
http://www.fastcompany.com/3058834/why-sweetening-your-criticism-with-compliments-makes-everything-worse?utm_source=mailchimp&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=fast-company-weekly-newsletter&position=7&partner=newsletter&campaign_date=04222016
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