By Dr. Ken Broda Bahm:
There are strategies and techniques, and then there are fundamental bedrock principles of human communication. The use of story and narrative structure definitely falls in the later category, perhaps to a greater degree than we’ve previously thought. I’ve written before that stories can show us what’s moral, fill gaps in evidence, and add the comfort of a familiar structure. But the appeal of storytelling may be even more primal than that. Based on some new work by Claremont neuroscientist Paul Zak, effectively described in a concise YouTube video, the story — and, more specifically, story structure — plays a direct and measurable chemical role in creating empathy. The research shows that two key neurochemicals are produced as we listen to some stories: cortisol, which is brought on by distress, and oxytocin, which promotes feelings of connectedness and empathy. The degree to which these chemicals are produced differentiates the stories that work from the stories that don’t.
In trials, lawyers are competing to tell the better story, and that means arranging the evidence in a form that makes sense. But the advantages of story are not gained by simply sequencing and telling the events in order. Chronology isn’t story. Instead, key elements need to be there. According to Zak’s research, watching clips that contained a series of actions, but lacked the classic hallmarks of story structure did not lead to neurochemical changes and did not motivate action. In contrast, stories that contained those features — eg., rising action, climax, and denouement — did lead to brain chemistry changes and did motivate behavior changes. So how should litigators make sure they’re telling a story and not just conveying a sequence? This post shares a bit more about Zak’s results and how they ought to inform your trial stories.
Paul Zak’s video is well worth the watch. It will change the way you think about stories in under six minutes. It is based on the story of a father with a terminally ill child, and I would challenge anyone to try to watch this while suppressing their empathy (it won’t work). In addition to making us feel for the pair, however, the brief story also leads to measurable chemical changes in the brain and motivates a subsequent decision to donate money to a charity. Based on an observation of these chemical changes, the study was able to predict who would donate with 80 percent accuracy.
So what makes the story work? That is where we move from chemistry to dramatic theory. Drawing from German author and playwright Gustav Freytag, Zak argues that effective stories all contain some version of a dramatic arc:
- Exposition (a setting or scene)
- Rising action (events that move in a particular direction)
- Climax (a turning point or change)
- Falling action (the plot moves toward victory or defeat)
- Denouement (events are brought to an expected or surprising conclusion)
“Stories are powerful,” Zak explains, “because they transport us into other people’s world, but in doing that, they change the way our brains work, and potentially change our brain chemistry. That is what it means to be a social creature. It means to connect with others, care about others, even complete strangers.”
Turning this advice toward the courtroom, let me share three questions that litigators should be able to answer:
One, What Gets You Past Chronology and Into Story?
Savvy trial lawyers know that just matching the facts to the elements isn’t story. They know that talking about the parties, running through the witness list, and previewing what they expect the evidence to show isn’t story. Beyond that, though, even walking the jury through the facts as they occurred also isn’t story – at least not if that sequence does not feature the dramatic elements that tell us what we’re hearing isn’t just chronology, but is instead story. Effective advocates avoid the “nominal narrative,” and instead ask what is going to provide the feelings of drama and depth. The central question is this: Would it hold the attention of those who aren’t required to listen to it? The features that would help it to do that are covered in two more specific questions based on Zak’s research.
Two, What Creates Distress?
Why would an advocate want to create distress? Because that dissatisfaction is at the heart of what we mean by drama. The imperfect, the unfinished, or the unjust – that is what motivates. Or, in a more neurochemical sense, that is what releases the cortisol. How does the storytelling trial lawyer create distress? By emphasizing that our universal principles of morality (like fairness, freedom, or loyalty) are under siege. Or by emphasizing, like the plaintiffs’ “Reptile” approach, that our basic security or survival is under stress. A good trial story presents an exigence: something in the situation that needs to be fixed, solved, or set right.
Three, What Creates Empathy?
You want your finders of fact to not just comprehend, but to empathize. This ability to take another’s perspective is key to getting a jury or any other audience to want to work on your behalf. Again in this neurochemical sense, it is the ability to identify and empathize that comes from a brain awash in oxycontin. As we’ve written before, empathy can be tricky business, but it is nonetheless at the heart of persuasion. In the story Zak shared, an audience is brought together by a love of children, a recognition of innocence, and perhaps by the sadness of our common mortality. Not all case stories are going to tug at those heartstrings. The contract or the patent case stories will face a tougher road in finding the common ground that truly moves its hearers. But if the story is going to be engaging, that common ground still needs to be there: a promise, an idea, something to which we can all find a connection.
It strikes me after watching the brief video that Paul Zak and his team has hit hit upon something profound. What causes us to bond together is neurochemicals. But that doesn’t make us biological machines, because what causes the neurochemicals is our choice to tell stories that don’t just convey information, but involve.
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Other Posts on Story:
- When You Think “Story” Think “Structure”
- Take a Lesson from the Casey Anthony Verdict: It Is the Story, and Not Just the Evidence
- Find the “Universal Morality” in Your Case Story
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Photo Credit: Mikecogh, Flickr Creative Commons