Say What They Can't Unhear

Say What They Can't Unhear Plot Summary

Introduction

Picture this: You've just finished presenting a brilliant idea to your team—one you're certain will revolutionize your organization. You've poured your heart into crafting the perfect pitch, highlighting every benefit and feature. Yet as you scan the room, you see blank stares, slight frowns, and the unmistakable body language of resistance. Despite your compelling logic, your message isn't resonating. Why? This disconnect represents one of the most frustrating challenges facing leaders today. Creating lasting change isn't about finding the perfect words or speaking louder—it's about saying something so aligned with others' existing beliefs that they can't unhear it. When we understand the principles behind how people make decisions and adopt new ideas, we can craft messages that genuinely resonate rather than creating resistance. Through fascinating real-world examples and science-backed insights, we'll explore how to build true buy-in for change by working with human psychology rather than against it. You'll discover how to transform resistance into resonance by crafting messages that honor identity, reduce pain, and align with existing beliefs—creating the conditions where change not only happens but endures.

Chapter 1: The Power of Resonance: When Words Become Unforgettable

The classroom was quiet as the instructor demonstrated a fascinating acoustic phenomenon. He struck a tuning fork with a rubber mallet, producing a clear, ringing tone. After a few seconds, he touched the vibrating fork to stop its movement, yet remarkably, the sound continued. How was this possible? The answer lay in the second tuning fork positioned nearby. Though untouched, it had begun vibrating in sympathy with the first, producing the identical tone on its own. This demonstration of "sympathetic resonance" captivated everyone watching—especially one audience member who suddenly realized this physical principle might hold the key to understanding human communication. For over twenty-five years, the author had worked in change communications, helping leaders inspire transformation in organizations, markets, and even societies. Yet despite all her experience, she remained fascinated by a singular question: Why do some messages create immediate, powerful, and lasting change while others—despite logical reasoning and compelling delivery—fall flat? The tuning fork demonstration provided her answer. Like those finely calibrated instruments, humans resonate with ideas that vibrate at frequencies we're already attuned to—ideas aligned with our existing beliefs, desires, and identity. This insight explains why many change efforts fail despite leaders' best intentions. Most approaches to change try to convince people through sheer force of logic or by leveraging various forms of pressure. But lasting change requires something different—a message so perfectly aligned with what someone already values that it creates a "ding" moment, a realization they can't unhear. When this happens, the desire for change becomes internal rather than external, creating the conditions for sustained transformation. The concept of resonance also helps us understand why stakeholders fall into one of four categories: Actives (true believers who resonate with the change), Ambivalents (those experiencing dissonance between competing desires), Indifferents (those with no reaction), and Antagonists (those who actively oppose the change). By understanding these reactions, we can craft messages that transform Indifferents and Ambivalents into Actives, and sometimes even convert Antagonists into supporters. The author's awakening to this principle transformed her approach to change. Rather than trying to push others toward change through coercion or manipulation, she discovered that lasting transformation happens when we align our message with the existing "tuning" of our audience. When we understand the principles behind what makes certain ideas impossible to unhear, we can craft messages that create the sympathetic resonance that drives self-sustaining change.

Chapter 2: Every Decision Has a Story: Understanding the Path to 'Yes'

Imagine walking through IKEA with a clear budget of $200 to purchase new dishes and flatware. As you wander the maze-like aisles, you spot a beautiful flower vase that would look perfect in your kitchen. Then a tablecloth catches your eye that would match your curtains perfectly. And wouldn't that rug complement the tablecloth wonderfully? After a break for some Swedish meatballs, you continue through the store. At checkout, you realize you've spent your $200 on dishes as planned—plus an additional $300 on items you hadn't intended to buy! This scenario isn't unusual. A University College London study found that 60 percent of purchases at IKEA are unplanned. The reason reveals a profound truth about human decision-making: every decision has a story behind it. These aren't the "once upon a time" kind of stories, but internal narratives that create logical connections between actions and outcomes based on our beliefs and perceptions. When we decide to act, it's because we've unconsciously accepted our brain's internal argument for why a particular action will deliver a desired outcome. These internal arguments aren't purely rational—they're based on beliefs and perceptions that feel rational because they follow their own internal logic. The complete structure includes not just the action and its outcome, but crucially, the assumptions or beliefs that connect the two. Consider someone buying that IKEA vase. Their internal argument might go: "This is a vase for flowers" (first belief). "Flowers make my house look better" (second belief). "Therefore, if I buy this vase, my house will look better" (conclusion). People will only agree with the conclusion if they agree with the principles and assumptions that lead to it. Yet because this process happens unconsciously, most of us aren't aware of these silent assumptions that drive our decisions. Unfortunately, most persuasion and influence messaging leaves out these critical assumptions, including only the action and outcome: "If you buy from us, you'll get the result you're looking for." Without the connecting principles, people either dismiss the argument outright because it doesn't make sense to them, or they fill in the gaps with assumptions that align with what they already believe—which usually means concluding not to change at all. This insight transforms how we approach change. Instead of simply telling people what to do and what they'll get, we must excavate and articulate the often-silent principles that make the connection between action and outcome logical. When you reconstruct in someone else's mind the argument you unconsciously constructed in your own, you're saying something they can't unhear—something that aligns with their own internal decision-making process.

Chapter 3: Identity as the Ultimate Influencer: The Smart-Capable-Good Desire

A client from a Fortune 500 company approached the author with a challenging dilemma. Their sales team had embraced a well-known methodology that worked remarkably well for acquiring new clients by challenging their assumptions and previous decisions. But once these prospects became clients, the same approach backfired spectacularly. Clients complained about feeling constantly challenged and not respected for their knowledge and experience. What was happening, and what could they do instead? The root of this problem lies in a fundamental human desire: to be seen as smart, capable, and good. When someone feels this way in your eyes, they often think you must be smart, capable, and good too—simply because you see them that way! This builds the trust essential for sustained relationships. However, when you suggest that someone's current beliefs or methods are flawed, you inadvertently signal that you don't already see them as smart, capable, and good—which erodes trust and triggers resistance. This explains why someone might enthusiastically agree in an initial meeting but later stall or back out entirely. As Friedrich Nietzsche observed, "'I did that,' says my memory. 'I could not have done that,' says my pride, and remains inexorable. Eventually—the memory yields." People will often reinterpret past actions to align with their current sense of self, or reject new information that challenges their desired identity. The relationship between identity and action is so intimate that we might say "we act in accordance with who we are." Our judgments of rightness are tied so tightly to our individual beliefs that people don't do what's right because it's universally right—they do it because their desired self-identity doesn't allow for their definition of right to be wrong. This creates a reinforcing loop: we act based on our identity, and those actions further reinforce who we believe ourselves to be. While we can't tailor messages to every unique identity, we can leverage the near-universal desire to be seen as smart, capable, and good. The key is to start from the perspective that the person you're talking to already possesses these qualities. Even when someone doesn't seem smart, capable, and good to you, asking yourself, "Why would a smart, capable, and good person do or think those things?" helps you see the situation through their eyes and craft messages that honor their identity while still advocating for change. When your proposals make someone feel even more smart, capable, and good, you're respecting who they already are. This increases their openness to new ideas and contributes to their sense of self-worth and agency—both essential for sustainable change. Rather than asking people to change who they are, give them an even better story to tell themselves about themselves—one where their identity remains intact even as their actions evolve.

Chapter 4: Pain and Principles: Finding the Patterns That Drive Change

Imagine trying to cut back on sugar. Your favorite indulgence is a thirty-ounce iced coffee smoothie with whipped cream and extra caramel that you enjoy three times daily. After concerning news from your doctor about your sugar intake, you decide to quit these treats cold turkey. You stay strong for a few days despite intense cravings. But soon, every coffee shop you pass reminds you of what you're missing. Despite your resolve, the pain becomes too much. You decide to have just one, which opens the floodgates, and before long, you're back to your old habits. This scenario illustrates a crucial principle of lasting change: pain is its enemy. Humans naturally avoid pain, whether emotional, physical, or psychological. When a change feels like a constant struggle or an assault on your sense of self, it's only a matter of time before you abandon it. This explains why hyper-restrictive diets and extreme exercise programs so often fail—they create too much discomfort to sustain. It's important to distinguish between painful behaviors and harmful ones. Many harmful behaviors persist precisely because they don't feel painful in the moment. It's only when something about the behavior becomes more immediately painful—like when it threatens a more important aspect of your identity—that you're driven to stop it. The key insight is that the less painful a change is, the more sustainable it becomes. This principle works through what psychologists call "behavioral consistency." People are more likely to adopt behaviors that align with their previous actions and beliefs. When a new process seems like a small step from current practices, people are less likely to reject it and more likely to maintain it long-term. Breaking significant changes into smaller, more comfortable steps eases the transition and makes cognitive inertia work for you rather than against you. Unfortunately, much traditional advice about persuasion focuses on creating pain or discomfort to motivate action. While this may drive immediate results, no human will continue something long-term that feels emotionally, physically, or mentally painful. Eventually, all attention turns to stopping the pain rather than supporting the change. That's why the levers that drive short-term action often ensure that action won't last. The solution is to reduce the scale of the actions you ask for so they're below the threshold of pain—so they don't feel dissonant with someone's normal behaviors or daily life. With the coffee example, you might start by reducing to the twenty-ounce size or having only two drinks daily instead of three. By pursuing changes that respect existing habits and minimize discomfort, even transformational change becomes sustainable. The more you reframe a change to reduce emotional, mental, and physical pain, the more it will align with people's inherent desire for stability and well-being.

Chapter 5: Dissonance to Alignment: Creating Bridges of Belief

Picture a heated community meeting about school district funding changes. The auditorium is packed with concerned parents, educators, and students, emotions running high. The discussion quickly deteriorates into political battle lines, with sides accusing each other of wanting to dismantle education or financial mismanagement. The atmosphere grows increasingly tense until a local teacher approaches the microphone. Instead of weighing in on the politics, the teacher focuses on shared values: quality education and equal opportunities for all students. They explain that current classroom sizes and teacher-student ratios are hindering these shared values, which is why they support the proposed funding shifts. The tension visibly dissipates as accusations give way to thoughtful dialogue about how the policy changes would increase individual attention to students. What happened here? The teacher recognized that while parents might hold beliefs opposing the funding change, they likely held even deeper beliefs about education quality and equal opportunity that could support it. By shifting the conversation from divisive positions to shared principles, the teacher avoided attacking identity and instead appealed to it, transforming antagonism into productive discussion. This situation illustrates a powerful truth: the longer someone has held a belief, the stronger it becomes. The more someone sees their personal principles delivering what they want, the more they view them as truth. That's why directly challenging someone's deep-rooted principles rarely leads to agreement and almost always triggers resistance. However, someone may simultaneously hold equally strong or even stronger beliefs that would support your proposed change. Cognitive inertia—our tendency to cling to established beliefs—works against most conventional approaches to persuasion. Challenging limiting beliefs directly triggers emotional reactions that make rational consideration impossible. Similarly, introducing entirely new beliefs faces an uphill battle against established ones with the weight of history and experience behind them. But by activating equally strong or stronger existing beliefs that support your change, you can make cognitive inertia work for you rather than against you. This approach transforms persuasion from confrontation to collaboration. Rather than dismantling someone's framework of understanding, you're connecting and building on deeply held principles you share. When you identify beliefs as strong or stronger than those opposing a change, you create a path to transformation that minimizes discomfort and dissonance. As author Elizabeth George notes, we rarely acknowledge all those "dominoes of influence" that define who we are—yet these hidden principles represent our greatest opportunity for creating lasting change.

Chapter 6: From Antagonists to Actives: Converting Resistance into Support

All you want to do is cancel your cable service. You dial the number, brace yourself, and explain your request to the customer service representative. Immediately, they launch into a relentless barrage of special offers and premium packages. "What if I tell you we can throw in premium channels at no extra cost for three months?" they ask with a hint of desperation. You decline. "How about a special bundle with Internet and phone?" Still no. The offers keep coming, each promising the deal of a lifetime. But they all miss one crucial point: you understand their offers perfectly—you just don't want them. This scenario illustrates one of the hardest lessons in inspiring change: you can't want it more than the person you're presenting it to. Change happens only when someone believes a change will give them something they want via means they believe in. If you can't make a legitimate connection between your change and an outcome someone truly cares about, they simply won't make the change on their own. This reality explains why 35 percent of startups fail—there was no market need for what they were selling. People didn't want what the company offered, or at least didn't think they did. Many change leaders get so invested in their own desire for change that they assume everyone else will want it too, for the same reasons. Understanding where your stakeholders stand helps focus your efforts where they're most likely to work. The Indifferents don't want your change and probably never will. The Antagonists may actively work against it. Surprisingly, you don't need to focus on the Actives either—they're already converted. This leaves the Ambivalents, who represent the largest group during major changes. They have the desire you need, but another desire is pulling them equally hard in a different direction. Your job is to activate whichever pre-existing desires and beliefs would tip the balance in your direction. One common pitfall is "benefit bombing"—listing every possible advantage of your idea hoping something will spark desire. But this approach backfires through what psychologist Niro Sivanathan calls the "dilution effect." When you introduce weak or irrelevant arguments alongside strong ones, your overall case sinks to the level of its weakest point. Benefit bombing can also come across as disingenuous, overwhelming, or confusing, leaving people wondering, "What's all this got to do with me?" A startup making autonomous farming robots learned this lesson the hard way. Initially, their robots featured advanced AI-assisted mapping and resource planning. Despite these innovations, they struggled to gain traction because farmers simply didn't need all the extra features. The added complexity increased costs and made the robots harder to use, defeating their purpose. When the company stripped the robots down to essential functions, focusing solely on what farmers truly needed, interest significantly increased. The lesson is clear: your stakeholders don't want a puzzle to piece together when considering change. They need a focused narrative that directly connects with their interests. By removing the neutral position and framing your message as the response to a question they actively want answered, you can help them see the value in your proposed change—but only if it's something they already want.

Chapter 7: The Thousand Little Yeses: Making Change That Lasts

"A thousand songs in your pocket." "Two great tastes that taste great together." "Jaws in space." These three phrases might sound familiar. The first is how Steve Jobs introduced the Apple iPod in 2001. The second is the 1970s and '80s tagline for Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. The third is how director Dan O'Bannon pitched what became the sci-fi thriller Alien to movie studios. What do they have in common? Each introduces something new using elements the audience already knows and values, making the unfamiliar feel familiar. This approach highlights a powerful principle: there's no such thing as "believer's remorse." Unlike buyer's remorse, which follows hasty or pressured decisions, when someone believes their decision was right and it continues to resonate with their identity, they won't regret it—even if the change is difficult or doesn't achieve everything they hoped for. To help make a change feel right, it needs to satisfy someone's internal story, be consistent with their deep-seated beliefs and identity, result from a decision made with full agency, and make sense in the first place. When O'Bannon pitched Alien as "Jaws in space," he reduced the risk for studio executives by connecting his unknown script to two incredibly successful films they already knew—Jaws and Star Wars. This demonstrates that change communication isn't about persuading others to jump blindly; it's about leading people step-by-step through a narrative they already know and trust. This process works through what rhetoricians call the "known-new contract." You start with something the stakeholder already knows, then link it to new information. That new information becomes known, allowing you to link it to another new piece. By familiarizing the unfamiliar, you encourage genuine commitment while making each step toward change feel smaller and less risky. This creates what author Tim David calls "little yeses"—each serving as permission to proceed. These "thousand little yeses" are the answers to questions raised by each element of an argument for change. When the teacher in our earlier example said, "I believe that every child deserves an education that prepares them for the future," it raised an implicit question: "Do I agree?" If the audience answered yes, even unconsciously, they would keep listening until another checkpoint arose. When the familiar concepts you're building on are beliefs and desires you share with stakeholders, you avoid misunderstanding and build trust. Instead of asking people to leap blindly into change, you're guiding them to see your perspective through their lens. As former FBI hostage negotiator Chris Voss explains, hearing someone say "That's right" is far more powerful than "You're right." The first means they've assessed what you've said and embraced it of their own free will; the second is often just a polite concession. Just as an orchestra tunes to a single note played by an oboe, creating maximum resonance when every instrument aligns, your message can create lasting change when it resonates with what people already want and believe. When properly tuned, one simple idea can ring true enough to inspire transformation that endures long after the initial "ding" moment fades away.

Summary

At its heart, inspiring lasting change isn't about finding magic words or overpowering others with persuasion tactics. It's about understanding the fundamental principles that govern how people make decisions and adopt new ideas. Like tuning forks that vibrate in sympathy, humans resonate most powerfully with messages that align with their existing beliefs, desires, and identity. The nine principles explored throughout these chapters form a comprehensive framework for building buy-in that lasts: recognize that your approach determines reactions, structure changes as complete arguments, honor deep-seated principles, respect the smart-capable-good desire, leverage stronger existing beliefs, minimize pain, create productive dissonance, focus on what others truly want, and build bridges of belief through "little yeses." These principles challenge conventional wisdom about change. Rather than trying to push harder when we meet resistance, we must look deeper at what's creating that resistance in the first place. Instead of asking people to change who they are, we must help them see how our proposed change aligns with who they already want to be. The most enduring transformation happens not through coercion or manipulation but through resonance—when our message vibrates at precisely the frequency our audience is already attuned to. When we understand this fundamental truth, we can craft messages that people can't unhear, creating the conditions where change not only happens but becomes self-sustaining as people make it their own. In doing so, we transform the process of change from confrontation to collaboration, from pushing to alignment, and from temporary compliance to lasting commitment.

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Tamsen Webster

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