That year Kunz was showered with a record number of Christmas cards. One writer gushed, “Dear Phil, Joyce and family, we received your holiday greeting with much joy and enthusiasm. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year’s. Love Lou, Bev and the children.”
Typical enough — except that Kunz didn’t know Lou and Bev and the children, or most of the hundreds of families from whom he received Christmas cards that year.
A fascinating recent NPR story told the story of the Brigham Young University sociologist who randomly selected 600 names from the phone book to see whether they would send cards back. They did, in droves, illustrating psychologists call the rule of reciprocation: If someone gives us something, we feel compelled to give something back.
In the end Kunz received more than 200 Christmas cards from complete strangers. “I was really surprised by how many responses there were,” he told NPR. “And I was surprised by the number of letters that were written, some of them three, four pages long.”
As psychologist Robert Cialdini explained it to NPR, “We are obligated to give back to others, the form of behavior that they have first given to us. Essentially thou shalt not take without giving in return.”
Take those pre-printed address labels, Cialdini said; they cost a mere 9 cents to make, but they double the number of folks who donate to charity. Another example: Waitresses who deliver mints with the bill see an exponential increase in tips. And the Hare Krishnas raised millions when they hit upon the idea of giving a small gift to people at airports and other public places. “You would see many of them with frowns on their faces reach into a pocket or a purse, come up with a dollar or two, and then walk away angry at what had just occurred,” Cialdini told NPR.
I can understand sending a perfunctory card to a stranger to conform with the social niceties. But what would induce someone to write a four-page letter to someone they had never met?
The whole thing seems so strange, and yet…how often do we “friend” people on Facebook even if we can’t quite place them? If they want to be our friends, then surely we must want to be theirs, too.
The custom of sending Christmas cards at all seems a bit antiquated in the era of social media. We bombard our friends with photos of our kids and weekly or even hourly bulletins from our lives.
Probably that’s why I love an old-fashioned card, with real photos I can tack on the fridge and personal messages in the hand of a beloved friend or family member.
In the past I devoted countless hours to writing Christmas part; it consumed far more of my time than shopping or decorating. I didn’t observe the rule of reciprocation. I sent cards to my out-of-town friends whether or not I received one in return. Sometimes it was the only time all year when I would be in touch, and it was important to maintain those ties.
Now I can simply send an email or a Facebook message, without a trace of awkwardness. It’s no longer weird to reach out to an old friend over the expanse of a few years or even decades. I no longer feel compelled to send that Christmas card for fear of losing touch altogether.
Yet when the Christmas cards start rolling in, the pen comes out. Tradition, I always assumed, but now I know better. It’s the rule of reciprocation.
Phillip Kunz, after all, received cards for 15 years from some of the people he contacted in 1974.
If I want to feel popular, I’ll just drag out the phone book and start dispensing warm holiday greetings from Jim, Mary and the kids.
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