Your Brain Is Part Of Your Body, Sort Of

Amy Cuddy, Presence: Bringing Your Boldest Self To Your Biggest Challenges

Why do some people seemingly walk into a room and immediately own it? Charismatic entrepreneurs, tech maestros, and artists wield this magic, while us mortals witness them with awe. Harvard psychologist Amy Cuddy admits multiple variables probably influence how we manifest what she calls “presence,” not all of which are portable. But Cuddy suggests we have one powerful variable under our control: how we stand.

Reading this book’s description, I expected something like a Dale Carnegie course. The dust-flap copy implied an introduction to “the power of presence,” the tweaks of attitude and comportment that we collectively identify as charisma. We who, for whatever reason, never quite learned society’s unwritten rules in adolescence, frequently look for streamlined guidance for how to handle fraught situations, like public speaking, job interviews, and first dates.

Instead, Cuddy advocates what she calls “power posing.” This means holding your body upright, back straight, chin out, feet spread. Take up space, Cuddy advocates, and your mind will become expansive enough for even the most threatening spaces. Though Cuddy spends time on preliminary concepts like the nature of Imposter Syndrome or the importance of honesty, her book’s heart is invested in the idea that if you pose big, your brain will follow.

I’m reminded of Jordan Peterson’s first Rule for Life: “Stand up straight with your shoulders back.” Like Peterson, Cuddy believes this releases beneficial neurochemicals, and justifies this belief by citing wild animals peacocking in their natural environment. At least Cuddy cites higher primates, not Peterson’s seriocomic lobsters. But both psychologists elide one important question: are humans in society essentially similar to wild animals?

Animal social structures are essentially flat. If one chimpanzee leaves the colony, it leaves every aspect of colony life. Human lives are more dynamic, and encompass work, school, family, volunteer groups, sports fandoms, hobby organizations, religious congregations, and neighborhood taverns. Having power in one environment doesn’t necessarily transfer elsewhere. Moreover, I may leave one workplace, yet still safely grab a beer with my former coworkers.

Dr. Amy Cuddy demonstrating
the “Wonder Woman pose”

Cuddy even admits her advice is deeply conditional. Power postures which she claims empower our preconscious mannerisms, come across as deeply phony if we actually do them in public. People seriously pulling what Cuddy calls the “Wonder Woman pose” mainly appear off-putting in group dynamics. That’s why Cuddy cites the behaviors great apes pull in colony environments, but recommends we mimic them in private spaces: because humans aren’t wild animals.

Further, Cuddy admits “power poses” are culturally conditioned. Western power poses, she acknowledges, don’t work in most Asian societies. Though Cuddy cites her own and others’ research to demonstrate posing’s efficacy, her subjects are mostly college students, a core sample critics call WEIRD: Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic. I’d question whether these poses work in poor or rural environments, where the person who stands out most usually gets knocked down first.

Please don’t misunderstand. We all recognize the correlation between bad posture and bad attitude. Cuddy herself mentions the hunched posture of the overworked cube farmer, or the increasingly common neck problems faced by teenagers who spend hours bent over their phones. These postures put lateral stress on our spines, structural tension our bodies aren’t optimized to handle. Humans evolved in environments where standing straight meant better access to food.

However, that’s correlation; Cuddy imputes these postures with cause. It’s equally plausible to say “submissive” postures are survival mechanisms. The hunching seen in cube farmers cowed by the workplace, tragically resembles the “don’t hit me” posture demonstrated by survivors of childhood abuse. People make themselves small to avoid making themselves targets. Maybe that behavior is maladaptive in adulthood, but it perseveres because, at one time, it worked.

I don’t want to imply that Cuddy’s conclusions are wrong. I lack sufficient knowledge and standing to support such conclusions. However, reading her text, it’s impossible to avoid noting that Cuddy’s evidence, while staged in scientific terminology, relies heavily on self-reporting. I also balk at Cuddy’s dependence on testimony, as it’s easy to slant outcomes according to which users bother to write back. Disappointed end-users seldom write fan letters.

We’ve probably all stared into a mirror, holding ourselves erect and practicing our breathing and eye contact. Feels empowering, doesn’t it? But we quickly realize the benefits of peacocking are transitory in hostile environments. I don’t want to flippantly dismiss Cuddy’s precepts, which probably help the right people in the right conditions. But her presentation is too sweeping, and doesn’t leave room for people struggling to survive adverse or dangerous circumstances.