The ABCs of Engagement Psychology
Today, perhaps more than ever, marketers seek to engage audiences, managers seek to engage employees, teachers seek to engage students, programmers seek to engage gamers, non-profits seek to engage communities of concern, and so on. For the most part, this quest for engagement is a quest for better results. It is assumed that engaged audiences are more loyal, engaged employees more productive, engaged students more successful, engaged gamers more enthusiastic and engaged communities more concerned.
Although this assumption has merit, one encounters a nagging dilemma. Focusing on desired behaviours can lead to a distorted view of engagement. More tragically (for marketers, managers, teachers etc.), seeking to control the results of engagement can thwart its power. This problem is similar to that which occurs among those seeking to build democracy. Focusing on specific outcomes can thwart that which is sought. In order to understand the nature and potential of engagement, it is vital we begin by focusing on its fundamental nature as a psychological construct, and we bracket out discussions of material results, desired behaviours and specific contexts. Only once we understand engagement in this way can we leverage it effectively in pursuit of desired outcomes.
Engagement represents a spectrum of psychological experiences available to an individual involved in an activity. This involvement may be active or passive. It may be private or social. It may draw on multiple senses or only one. Engagement experiences assume many shades and intensities. The root “engage,” for example, is related to such concepts as immerse, engross, captivate, resonate, inspire, exhilarate and motivate, to name a few. Whatever the specific nature of the engagement experience in a given context, it is typically a positive contributor to optimal human functioning and long-term well-being.
Engagement springs from a motivated subject. That is, in order to engage, we first encounter or select an activity, and bring our interest and focus to bear. As complex organisms, our interest and focus can be fleeting. We are forever bombarded with biological and psychological "distractions" that compete for our attention. For example, we must continually satisfy our basic physiological needs (sleep, food, drink, sex, etc.). Beyond this, we typically seek psychological equilibrium in the form of safety, social connectedness and self esteem. When we are deprived of basic needs, our motivation to focus on other activities decrease, typically in proportion to the degree of deprivation. But when these needs are maintained, which is typically the case for many living in a western democratic society, what happens next? Or, from a psychological perspective, how do we understand the motivational dynamics that result in human activity beyond basic subsistence and psychological quiescence?
Conflicting models of human motivation emerged in response to this question. The behaviourist model dominated much of the 20th century and persists in some quarters today. This model suggests that beyond meeting our basic physiological needs we are rather unmotivated. We wait to be acted upon by external forces. On this view, seeking out interesting activity invariably relies upon contextual stimuli--rewards and punishments ("carrots and sticks"). Extrinsic forces or motivators, therefore, are key to determining human activity beyond basic need satisfaction. This view frequently informs the engagement strategies implemented, for example, in schools and offices. For many teachers and managers it is "common sense." Desired behaviours are achieved through incentives. Undesired behaviours are discouraged through threats of punishment, or, as a last resort, punishment itself. Greater rewards are assumed to increase motivation, participation and engagement. That rewards and punishments impact behaviour and sometimes trigger desired, short-term results is undisputed. However, the key presupposition of this model (the inert organism) has been called into question.
As far back as the 1930s and 1940s experimental data began to challenge the orthodox belief that primates were motivated strictly by biological needs and external stimuli. Harry Harlow, the University of Wisconsin psychologist, better known for his broundbreaking research on the emotional needs of children (and his controversial use of monkeys as experimental subjects), made a stunning observation. In fact, this observation so challenged the status quo of behaviourism, that it took many years for other psychologists to build on it.
As Dan Pink tells the story:
One day in 1949, Harlow and two colleagues gathered eight rhesus monkeys for a two-week experiment on learning. The researchers devised a simple mechanical puzzle.... Solving it required three steps: pull out the vertical pin, undo the hook, and lift the hinged cover. Pretty easy for you and me, far more challenging for a thirteen-pound lab monkey.
The experimenters placed the puzzles in the monkey's cages to observe how they reacted--and to prepare them for tests of their problem solving prowess at the end of two weeks. But almost immediately, something strange happened. Unbidden by any outside urging, the monkeys began playing with the puzzles with focus, determination, and what looked like enjoyment. And in short order, they began figuring out how the contraptions worked. By the time Harry tested the monkeys on days 13 and 14 of the experiment, the primates had become quite adept. They solved the puzzles frequently
and quickly; two thirds of the time they cracked the code in less than sixty seconds.
Now, this was a bit odd. Nobody had taught the monkeys how to remove the pin, slide the hook, and open the cover. Nobody had rewarded them with food, affection or even quiet applause when they succeeded. And that ran counter to the accepted notions of how primates--including human beings--behaved.
Scientists knew that two main drives powered behavior. The first was the biological drive. But that was not happening here. "Solution did not lead to food, water or sex gratification," Harlow reported. But the only other drive also failed to explain the monkey's peculiar behavior. If biological motivations came from within, this second drive came from without--the rewards and punishments that the environment delivered for behaving in certain ways. But that didn't account for the monkey's actions either. As Harlow wrote, and you can almost hear him scratching his head, "The behavior obtained in this investigation poses some interesting questions for motivation theory, since significant learning was attained and efficient performance maintained without resort to special or extrinsic incentives."
To answer the question, Harlow offered a novel theory--what amounted to a third drive: "The performance of the task," he said, "provided intrinsic reward."
This notion of intrinsic motivation remained on the periphery of the psychological establishment for thirty years before being picked up by scholars like Edward Deci of the University of Rochester in the late 1960s, and tested with rigourous experimentation. The result? A new theory of human motivation known as self-determination theory (SDT). This theory proposes a view of humans quite different from the biologically driven, but otherwise inert organism, calmly waiting for external motivation. SDT argues that humans possess an innate inner motivation to seek out interesting activities, exercise capacities, experience feelings of competence, connect to those around them and integrate experiences into a unified sense of self.
In other words, humans don't require a piece of chocolate or a kick in the pants to pursue an interesting activity, learn or solve problems. They are intrinsically motivated to do so. Of course, not all humans are motivated to learn the same things, solve the same problems or seek out the same types of competency satisfaction. However, all humans possess intrinsic motivation, and this psychological force is the cornerstone of engagement.
If our greatest opportunity to experience engagement derives most consistently and forcefully from intrinsic motivation, how is this power unleashed? Do some activities and things naturally provide greater engagement potential than others? How do we identify those activities that have the greatest potential for us, or a specific audience? Can intrinsic motivation be increased or decreased by manipulating contextual variables? Can one build contexts and supports to maximize engagement potential? What forms or degrees of engagement are achievebale in "closed contexts," that is, in contexts requiring predetermined behaviours or results? Are incentives and rewards completely ineffective at promoting engagement? What is the relationship of engagement to well-being, happiness and optimal human functioning? How does one apply the insights of engagement psychology to specific personal and professional, contexts and challenges?
These are the questions that will guide additional posts in this ABCs of Engagement series.
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