By Daniel Finkelstein (THE TIMES, 29/03/06):
IT IS ONE OF THE most famous campaign posters ever produced — a scowling caricature of Richard Nixon, accompanied by the slogan: “Would you buy a used car from this man?” And the reason why this political attack, of all the many thousands, has resounded over the decades is simple — the ability to sell a used car is a pretty good test of both a candidate and his political strategy.
I’ll tell you what set me thinking about flogging second-hand automobiles — last week’s Budget.
Gordon Brown is a great believer in dividing lines. He wants the voters to be able to see clearly the choice in front of them, with Labour, naturally, on the popular side of the divide. So his speech aimed to frame the debate over the rest of this Parliament. Whatever else David Cameron may do, Mr Brown hopes that the choice at the next election will still boil down to this — the party that invests in public spending versus the party that cuts it.
On the face of it, this would seem to present the Conservatives with a nasty dilemma. Do they go for a tax-cutting agenda, hoping to overcome the scepticism of voters over such promises and their fears about the impact on services? Or do they abandon lower taxes, and with it a crucial part of what might make a Conservative economic and social policy work if the Tories were to win? And here is where the used cars come in. The Tories should skip around Mr Brown’s trap. They don’t have to choose between remaining a low-tax party or abandoning tax cuts (no choice at all for a Tory). Instead they have to choose between these two strategies — lowball and highball.
As part of his lifelong work charting the way in which human beings are influenced, the social psychologist Robert Cialdini spent time undercover as a second-hand car salesman. It was during this period that he was introduced to one of the most successful selling techniques — lowball.
The customer is offered a car at a low, low price. Enthusiastically, he agrees. Then, deftly, the cost advantage is withdrawn. A calculation error is claimed, or the salesman’s offer is “overruled” by the showroom manager. A particularly popular version is to offer the buyer an inflated trade-in price for his old car. Then when the deal has been agreed in principle, an “independent” valuer arrives and reduces the offer. Knowing how much his old car was really worth, the customer accepts the new valuation as fair. The sale goes ahead.
Lowball is a very effective and common method of persuasion. It takes advantage of our great desire to remain consistent once committed. In yesterday’s papers the al-Qaeda supergrass trial provided a frightening example of lowball’s potential power. It was alleged that the defendants were aiming to recruit young people to fight in Afghanistan, and then later tell them that this had become logistically impossible and they would need to target Britons.
What has this got to do with politics? Lowball is frequently on display in elections. The Blair-Brown strategy before the 1997 general election was a classic lowball strategy. Voters were told that income tax rates would not be increased yet, once Labour was elected, tax began steadily to rise.
Now take a look at their methods. At first the tax increases were stealthy, almost hidden (changes to advanced dividend corporation tax for instance), later the rises were more blatant (national insurance) and justified more openly. This is instructive. You see, lowball need not be dishonest (the direction of travel can be made clear even if the distance of travel isn’t), but if it is dishonest, voters will not complain. That is lowball’s power.
By the time Labour got round to raising taxes openly, voters were convinced that this was what they voted for. Just like the customer with the undervalued trade-in motor, when Mr Brown told taxpayers they would need to pay more, after all, to fund the NHS, voters reacted by shrugging. Hadn’t they always known, deep down, that the initial valuation was unfair? That they would have to stump up more? A Tory lowball strategy, an honest one, would involve being clear about wanting lower taxes and public service reform but it would be gentle and cautious about the speed and extent. In power, slowly, it would be able to go farther and with public consent.
There is an alternative, of course, and some people urge it on the Tories. Highball. The party distinguishes itself from Labour with a radical, exciting, enticing programme. It tackles public prejudices by making the big arguments right now, upfront.
There’s just one problem with highball. No party has ever gone from opposition to power on a highball strategy. Margaret Thatcher in 1979? Definitely lowball. Tax was mentioned but no big promises, and reassurance was provided at all stages. Radical Thatcherism came later, when it could take the committed voters with it.
Of course, it could be objected that the analogy breaks down because a tax-cutting Tory party wouldn’t be threatening costs, it would be tempting people with a benefit. This is a misunderstanding. A radical manifesto involves this cost — risk. And social psychology, something called prospect theory, tells how voters will react to this, too.
If you offer someone a choice between receiving £15,000 and a gamble in which they could be given £10,000 or £20,000, then mathematically the two alternatives are the same. Psychologically they are not. A complicated experiment involving testing people’s reaction to adverts for antibacterial mouthwash (don’t ask) proved that we would prefer the £15,000. And fascinatingly, if we were told that we would lose £15,000 or we could gamble and lose either 10,000 or 20,000, we prefer to gamble. We are more cautious about expected benefits and are prepared to take more risks when a possible loss looms.
Our caution, our commitment, our consistency — lowball is the only possible choice for the Tories. Anything else, and the voters will say: we’re not going to buy a used car from those people.