Have you ever kept plowing ahead with a plan even as it started to look like a mistake? Or agreed to a small favor only to end up shouldering a much bigger burden later? You’re not alone. Once we commit to something, a powerful force inside (and around) us pushes us to stay consistent with that commitment. Chapter 7 of Influence shines a light on this quirky human impulse, how our need to appear consistent can drive us to do things that surprise even ourselves. Below is a closer look at what makes commitment such a powerful psychological lever, why it can be both a virtue and a trap, and how we can recognize and apply these insights in daily life.
“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
A literal “Foot-in-the-door” can get you inside; psychologically, a small initial agreement can open us up to much larger requests. Once we make a choice or take a stand, we feel pressure to remain consistent with it. Cialdini explains that we desire to be (and to appear) consistent with our words and deeds. This drive is rooted partly in our need to see ourselves as reliable and partly in the way society values those who stick to their word. The result is that even small commitments can start changing our self-image and future actions. If you say “yes” once, you’re more likely to keep saying “yes” to stay true to that first agreement.
The classic foot-in-the-door experiment illustrates this dramatically. In one study, homeowners who agreed to put a tiny “Drive Safely” sticker in their window were vastly more likely to later accept a huge, ugly “Drive Safely” billboard on their front lawn than those who were asked outright for the billboard. About 76% of the people who had first said yes to the little sticker went on to say yes to the big ask, compared to only around 17% of those confronted only with the large request. A trivial agreement today — even just signing a petition or filling out a short survey — can prime us to comply with a much larger request tomorrow. Why? Because once we’ve signaled “I’m the kind of person who supports this,” we strive to behave in line with that new self-image.
Businesses and politicians take full advantage of this. Charities often ask for a small show of support (like a social media share or a $1 pledge) before requesting a significant donation. Salespeople know that getting you to nod in agreement to something small is the hardest part. After that, you feel internally compelled to stay consistent. Cialdini recounts a clever trick used by toy companies: they advertise a hot new toy before the holidays, and many parents quietly promise it to their kids. When stores “run out” of that toy before Christmas, parents buy something else to placate the child, but they’ve made a promise. Come January, the toy company floods the shelves with the original toy again. Guilt-ridden parents, wanting to be consistent with their word, trek back to the store to buy the promised toy. The company’s sales spike after the holidays, all because Mom or Dad didn’t want to renege on a commitment.
Not all consequences of this consistency urge are so harmless. In more extreme examples, people can be led down dangerous paths through a series of small commitments. During the Korean War, Chinese interrogators reportedly got American POWs (Prisoners of War) to collaborate by starting with trivial requests, like writing down innocuous statements (“The United States isn’t perfect”) and gradually increasing the demands. Each small step shaped the prisoners’ self-perception, making it easier to justify the next step. Over time, some POWs unconsciously shifted their loyalties to stay consistent with their earlier concessions. It’s a chilling illustration of how our need to appear consistent can be weaponized, one tiny step at a time.
Why do we cling to consistency so tenaciously? Cialdini suggests it’s because consistency makes life easier and safer. If we always do what we said we’d do, we don’t have to wrestle with second-guessing ourselves. Remaining consistent also earns us trust: friends, colleagues, and society at large see consistency as a sign of integrity and stability. There’s a reason we feel ashamed of being called a “flip-flopper.” In many situations, sticking to our guns serves us well. It provides a mental shortcut, a way to make decisions quickly by referring back to what we’ve already decided. Rather than agonize over every new choice, we simply act in accordance with our previous commitments. In short, consistency can be a source of personal comfort and social praise.
However, as philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson famously warned, “a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds”. Blindly sticking to an earlier decision can lead us off a cliff. Cialdini stresses that while the commitment-and-consistency rule often serves us, it can also lock us into bad deals or outdated beliefs. The chapter closes by encouraging readers to be aware of this inner drive. We are urged to choose our commitments carefully, because once we declare allegiance to a course of action or an idea, we’ll find it surprisingly difficult to abandon ship. And if we realize we’ve been tricked into a commitment, the best thing to do is acknowledge it and stop, rather than plow ahead out of sheer habit or pride.
Once we commit to a decision, stance, or promise, we face internal pressure (our self-image) and external pressure (others’ expectations) to behave consistently with that commitment. We genuinely want to align our future actions with what we’ve said or done before — it feels like a matter of integrity and personal identity.
Society celebrates consistency as a virtue — it signals trustworthiness, intelligence, and stability. Psychologically, following a consistent course simplifies our decision-making by acting as a mental shortcut. But this “being on autopilot” can be dangerous. It means that if someone can get us to commit to something small, our autopilot will push us to comply with larger requests related to it, even when it’s ill-advised. Compliance professionals (marketers, fundraisers, negotiators) exploit this by engineering initial commitments that steer us toward their desired outcome.
A key reason the foot-in-the-door technique works is that saying yes to a trivial request subtly changes how we see ourselves. We begin to view ourselves as “the kind of person who [supports that cause / is interested in that product / is helpful].” Each small act of commitment builds a new piece of our identity. Later, to stay consistent with that identity, we agree to bigger requests that align with it. In other words, our first yes paves the way for many more. Even unrelated requests can succeed after a small initial commitment, because we feel generally more compliant once we’ve portrayed ourselves as helpful or agreeable.
Certain types of commitments produce especially strong consistency. Cialdini notes that commitments that are active, public, effortful, and voluntary create the most lasting change. For example, if you actively write something down or speak it aloud to others, if you make it public for people to witness, if it requires effort or sacrifice, and if you feel you chose it freely, you will be far more likely to follow through. These conditions turn a one-time choice into a part of your self-story (“I wouldn’t have worked so hard if it wasn’t really important to me”). That’s why hazing rituals can bond people to a group, or why writing down goals makes you more dedicated to achieving them.
Once we commit, we tend to justify and even amplify our support for that choice. We’ll come up with additional reasons why we’re doing the right thing, even if the original reason fades. (As Cialdini puts it, commitments can “grow their own legs” — they start standing on a whole set of justifications we ourselves attach.) This is one reason the “low-ball” sales trick is so effective: a car dealer might get you to agree to an amazing price on a new car, securing your commitment. Later, they “discover” there’s been a mistake and the deal isn’t as sweet. Many buyers still go through with the purchase at the higher price. By then, they’ve mentally invested in owning that car and generated new justifications to stay consistent (“I’ve spent so much time, I really like it, I’ve told my family about this car, etc.”).
Since we can’t (and wouldn’t want to) discard our helpful habit of consistency entirely, the key is to be selective about initial commitments and vigilant about unjustified consistency. Cialdini suggests listening for a “stomach sign” — a feeling of discomfort in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’re about to agree to something you really don’t want to do just because you feel obligated. That feeling is a cue to pull back and refuse. He also offers a “heart-of-hearts” test for reflecting on commitments: pause and ask yourself, “Knowing what I now know, if I could go back in time, would I make the same choice again?”. Your gut reaction to that question can reveal whether you’re sticking with something only to be consistent. If the answer is no, it might be time to cut your losses, despite the psychological pull to persist.
Reading this chapter made me uncomfortably aware of how much I value being consistent, sometimes to my detriment. I like to think of myself as a person whose word means something. If I say I’ll do X, I feel that I absolutely should do X. This sense of honor serves me well in many cases, but I can recall times it blinded me to better options. For instance, I once publicly committed to a year-long project at work that I later realized was a dead end. Instead of admitting we needed to change course, I doubled down for far too long. I remember thinking, “I can’t quit now, I promised everyone we’d make this work.” In hindsight, I was more afraid of looking inconsistent than of wasting resources. My team and I paid the price in stress and lost time because I couldn’t swallow my pride sooner.
I also recognize the foot-in-the-door effect in my daily life. Many years ago, a neighbor asked if I could water his plants for “a couple of days.” I happily agreed. Those couple of days turned into a week, and then ten days, with additional requests to collect mail and adjust the thermostat. I found myself begrudgingly going along with each new favor. Part of me wanted to say, “Enough!” by day five, but I had already said yes initially. I felt locked in by my own prior agreement. No one forced me; it was my own internal pressure not to back out. It’s almost absurd: I turned my neighbor’s small ask into a personal test of reliability (even as I silently resented it).
On the flip side, I’ve started to use commitment on my own terms to reach personal goals. I’ve learned that if I want to adopt a new habit, I should make a clear commitment and even announce it to someone. When I decided to get back into shape, I told my friends I’d signed up for a gym membership. That public promise lit a fire under me. On lazy days when I wanted to skip a session, I remembered that I didn’t want to be “that guy” who talks big and doesn’t follow through. Sure enough, consistency kicked in and pushed me out the door to train. In those moments, I was grateful for my stubborn sense of consistency. It’s a relief to know this impulse can be harnessed for good. It’s not just a trick others use on us, but a trait we can use to keep ourselves accountable.
Perhaps the biggest takeaway for me is a new skepticism toward my own knee-jerk commitments. Now, when someone asks me for a small favor or a quick “yes,” I pause for an extra second. I ask myself, “If they come back later asking for more, will I regret having agreed now?” This little check-in has saved me from over-committing on more than one occasion. I’ve also become more forgiving of changing my mind. Earlier in my life, I would stick with choices long past their expiration date. Finishing books I didn’t enjoy, staying in friendships or clubs that no longer fit, just because I used to be committed. I’m learning that it’s okay to respectfully bow out when something isn’t right, rather than cling to consistency at all costs. There’s a subtle courage in saying, “I know I said yes before, but circumstances have changed.” It still makes me uneasy to utter those words, but I’m getting better at it. In a funny way, being aware of the consistency trap has made me more consistent with my deeper values (like honesty and well-being) instead of being consistent with every casual promise or old plan.
You can turn the consistency principle to your advantage by making commitments that support your goals. For example, if you want to start exercising or learn a new skill, commit publicly. Tell your friends, sign up for a class, or write down your intentions and put them on display. By staking your identity on a goal (“I am now someone who is training for a 10K”), you’ll be more driven to follow through because breaking that commitment would feel like letting yourself and others down. Use consistency as a motivational ally to build good habits.
If you’re leading a team or trying to influence someone ethically, begin with a small request or a modest proposal. It could be as simple as asking a colleague to try out a minor change for a day, or getting your child to agree to a tiny step toward a bigger responsibility. Once they’ve agreed and taken that first step, they’re more likely to go along with the next steps. Remember, the goal isn’t to trick people, but to help them ease into a change. A series of voluntary, incremental commitments can encourage genuine buy-in far better than a big ask out of the blue.
Be mindful when someone offers you a great-sounding deal or a harmless favor request, that there might be a catch later. Sales and marketing are full of these tactics. That free trial that quietly turns into a paid subscription after 30 days? That’s a commitment tactic. The salesperson who gets you to answer “yes” to a few simple questions (“Do you care about saving money? Would you like to protect your family?”) before pitching a product is also setting you up. Recognize when an initial “yes” is just a setup for more. You have every right to refuse a larger request even if you agreed to a smaller one earlier. Remind yourself that staying consistent with a commitment you never really wanted in the first place isn’t true consistency — it’s manipulation.
Before committing to something, consider building in an “out” clause for your own peace of mind, for instance, telling a friend, “I’ll help this weekend, but I may not have time the following week.” And if you do find yourself stuck in a commitment that no longer makes sense, practice the art of graceful exit. It can be as simple as saying, “I know I agreed to this, but I realize now I won’t be able to do it justice.” Use Cialdini’s heart-of-hearts question: “If you could go back in time, would you make the same choice again?”. If the honest answer is “no,” then consider that a sign that sticking it out might cause more harm than good. Life doesn’t stand still, and real integrity isn’t about never changing course. It’s about staying true to your best judgment, even if that means admitting a change of mind.
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