THE YEAR WAS 1965, and King Faisal of Saudi Arabia had a problem. Still new to the throne, he was already waist-deep in his efforts to institute much-needed financial and social reforms for the country. One element of these reforms involved making available “innocent means of recreation for all citizens.” As part of this agenda, King Faisal wanted to introduce television to Saudi Arabia. The only problem was that not everyone in the kingdom believed that the television was as innocent a technology as it pretended to be. Many religious conservatives considered the TV to be the work of the devil, which, depending on the kind of zealot with whom one was discussing the issue, could refer to either pitchforks and horns or stars and stripes. In any case, significant religious opposition to the technology was expected. How do you convince people that television is not an instrument of the devil’s campaign? Luckily for Faisal, he was not the first king of Saudi Arabia to run into this problem—his father had seen similar troubles.
The year was 1925 and Ibn Saud was king. He was a powerful ruler who had, in fact, been the one to consolidate the kingdom of Saudi Arabia. He also had the support of the clergy. Yet, Ibn Saud had a problem. He wanted to introduce the country to modern technology—in this case, telegraph and telephony. The difficulty, as you might have guessed, was that in the eyes of some influential and religiously minded individuals, the only rational explanation for electromagnetic communication was Satan. How much of this was a real fear and not simply a means to obstruct modernization is difficult to assess. In either case, the king realized it would be difficult to make any technological progress without overcoming the clergy’s concerns, regardless of whether these were deeply held or merely for public consumption. What now?
Ibn Saud decided that the only way to tackle religiously expressed objections would be through religion itself, not by going around it. So, he invited a group of religious leaders to the palace and asked one to hold a microphone while another was asked to stand at the receiving end of the technology. He then asked the first to read a passage from the Quran, the Muslim holy book. As the voice was carried over to the speaker on the other end, Ibn Saud made the argument that would win the debate: if this machine were the work of the devil, how could it possibly carry the words of the Quran?1
Ibn Saud must have been pleased with how things worked out, because a quarter-century later, in 1949, he used the same argument when introducing radio stations in Saudi Arabia. To quell concerns that the devil’s hand was on the radio dial, a recitation of the Quran was the first broadcast to be aired. Perhaps coincidentally—or maybe as a tactic to further co-opt the religious angle—the inauguration was scheduled for the Haj (Muslim holy pilgrimage) season.
Faisal could have done a lot worse than to take a page out of his father’s playbook. In 1965, amidst concerns and protestations, the first television broadcast in Saudi Arabia included the recitation of the Quran,2 thereby setting the world record for the number of times a member of the same family had been called upon to beat the devil out of high tech.3
I am a big advocate of seeking to control the frame early in the negotiation. When that is not an option, I advise reframing the negotiation as soon as possible. But sometimes neither is an option. Sometimes there is already a dominant frame, a well-established lens through which one or more of the parties are viewing the situation. You may be walking into a protracted negotiation or conflict where the parties have a deeply rooted perspective on the issues and their options. This could be the case in a family-business negotiation, in ethnic conflicts, or even in environments as benign as those that might exist in healthy, long-running business relationships with vendors, customers, or partners. Sometimes, the dominant frame is not based on a specific history of interactions between the parties, but rather reflects the influence of culture or other contextual factors.
In such situations, it may be too difficult or time-consuming to get people to abandon or change their perspective. Reframing may not be an option. As the TV/radio/telegraph examples demonstrate, when all else fails, you can sometimes overcome resistance to your ideas and proposals by yielding—that is, understanding and co-opting the other side’s frame or perspective to make it work for you. In this case, when it became clear that technology would not be judged as effective or ineffective, but rather as good or evil, the king decided to stop resisting the frame and, instead, adopted it and reengineered it for his own use. That meant ensuring that his preferred outcome was packaged in such a way that it aligned with prevailing views on how “goodness” ought to be measured. Yielding is a principle that is often discussed in the martial arts: the idea is that there can be tremendous power in going with—and perhaps redirecting—rather than resisting the energy or attack that is coming your way. Likewise, in negotiations, yielding means “going with,” and not “giving in.” Doing so effectively requires a clear and unbiased understanding of how the other side views the situation, and of the metrics they will use to evaluate ideas and options.
Sometimes there is not one dominant perspective but two equally strong philosophies competing for dominance. This can be the case when each side has strong views on the correct way to discuss or evaluate issues, and they have seemingly incompatible ways of looking at the problem. In such a case, one potential solution is bridging: finding a way for one side to adopt the other’s frame without losing leverage, or proposing a new frame that they can both safely adopt.
Not so long ago, I was speaking to the principal of a private school who was dealing with a conflict regarding teacher pay. Teacher salaries had always been set primarily on the basis of tenure—the more years you had worked, the more you were paid. Now, a group of wealthy donors to the school were demanding a change. The donors wanted performance-based pay rather than tenure-based pay, and they put forth proposals that would tie some amount of teacher pay to things such as student test results and teacher evaluations based on class visits by the principal. The teachers were unwilling to move in this direction, arguing that tenure was the right thing to reward because those with more years of experience were better teachers. The donors, meanwhile, were stuck on the idea of “performance-based” pay. The principal could understand each side’s point of view, but they were talking past each other, unable to move beyond the idea of “performance-based” versus “tenure-based” pay. No one was ready to discuss the actual details of any proposal. What to do?
My suggestion was to put forth the idea that, actually, there is no disagreement between the two sides on the appropriate basis of pay. When examined closely, it is obvious that teachers agree that “performance-based” pay is the correct approach. The only difference between the two sides is how best to measure performance. Indeed, the teachers had constantly stated that those who bring more value to students should be paid more—this sounds like a performance-based argument—but they just happened to believe that “number of years” is the best measure because it is unbiased, unlike a principal’s subjective evaluation. Donors would agree that tenure is the easiest to measure, and also that experience usually makes teachers better, but they would disagree about the extent to which tenure and effectiveness were correlated. If the principal could get the two sides to acknowledge that “performance-based” is not only an acceptable logic, but in fact the only logic either side has ever articulated (without necessarily having used those words), both sides might be able to overcome deadlock on the logic of teacher pay, and start discussing the substance. For example, what are the trade-offs when choosing between different measures of performance—and are these acceptable?4 Is there a combination of measures that all sides could live with? Undoubtedly, the parties would still need to grapple with how much weight to put on different measures, but acknowledging that there is already consensus on the lens with which to view the problem might help the parties get past their current, somewhat ideologically driven, intransigence on starting principles.
Sometimes the best way to convince someone of your point of view is to talk to them in their own language. Not only is this more efficient, but it can make your arguments even more powerful. There is something quite compelling about being able to demonstrate to someone that your demands remain legitimate “even if we accept your preferred logic for how to approach the problem.” Indeed, King Faisal was likely on stronger ground than even he would have initially sought when he shifted from a “technology” frame to a “religion” frame. Likewise, teachers might have a greater impact on donors and other stakeholders if they can articulate their position in terms of the need to identify appropriate bases of measuring performance as opposed to the legitimacy of tenure, because the latter can be perceived as a merely self-serving or ideological stance.
Yielding to the other side, as risky as it is for the reasons we considered when discussing the importance of controlling the frame, can sometimes be the right strategy. A few years ago, we were negotiating a complex deal with a multibillion-dollar corporation that is a household name around the world. The company I was advising had been founded only a few years earlier but was growing quickly. The other side made clear that one of their key demands was a notification clause: we would have to inform them of all acquisition offers that we received in the coming few years and would have to give them time to make a counteroffer. Their concern was understandable: they did not want to wake up one day and discover we had been bought out by someone who might not want to continue the important relationship we were structuring.
Yet, this condition would impose potentially costly constraints on our future ability to sell the company at the best possible price. For example, if this partner wanted to buy us—a likely possibility—they would know whether we had other suitors and when other bidders increased their bids. Depending on the way the provision was written, it might also deter other potential acquirers from making offers in the first place. After a number of our revisions to their proposal were turned down for various, and sometimes vague, reasons, we decided to take a different approach. Instead of making any further proposals, we told the other side that we would allow them to craft absolutely any notification provision they wanted in order to protect their investment provided that it conformed to two principles: it would have to preserve both our ability to find the highest potential bidder and our ability to extract the highest possible price in a future acquisition scenario. If those conditions, which were hardly unreasonable, were met, we would accept whatever provision they crafted. If they could not meet these conditions, we would have to reject their proposal.
With the ball in their court now, and with our requirements made clear, the other side both softened their language and proposed new variants. With the proposal not coming from us, they were no longer in a defensive posture. What they finally came up with was acceptable to both sides and the deal moved ahead. The basic principle we were following was one that I sometimes advocate when there are legitimate concerns on both sides of the table and progress has been slow: Give the other side control, but clarify your conditions. This simple strategy:
• shows empathy for their concerns, allowing them to focus on finding solutions rather than continued advocacy;
• clarifies for the other side what is and isn’t important to you, making their life easier;
• keeps either side from “owning” and clinging to its preferred idea or approach;
• helps find a solution by encouraging multiple, and often creative, proposals.
In most of the negotiations we have considered so far, we have focused on the importance of understanding the party on the other side of the table. But there may be many parties and many tables that are relevant to achieving your objectives. For example, in our negotiations with the Chinese company, we also had to consider the perspective of the VC; in the Cuban Missile Crisis, the ExComm had to understand the perspective of the Soviet Union but also consider Cuba; James Madison had to structure a process that would yield better outcomes not only in Philadelphia but also in the many debates to follow in the various states. In the next chapter, we look at the importance of understanding the points of view of all the parties that are relevant to the negotiation. Effective negotiators take all players into account.