Each year about thirteen hundred seniors graduate from the University of Rochester and begin their journey into what many of their parents and professors like to call the real world. Edward Deci, Richard Ryan, and their colleague Christopher Niemiec decided to ask a sample of these soon-to-be graduates about their life goals—and then to follow up with them early in their careers to see how they were doing. While much social science research is done with student volunteers, scientists rarely track students after they’ve packed up their diplomas and exited the campus gates. And these researchers wanted to study the post-college time frame because it represents a “critical development period that
marks people’s transitions to their adult identities and lives.”14
Some of the U of R students had what Deci, Ryan, and Niemiec label “extrinsic aspirations”—for instance, to become wealthy or to achieve fame— what we might call “profit goals.” Others had “intrinsic aspirations”—to help others improve their lives, to learn, and to grow—or what we might think of as “purpose goals.” After these students had been out in the real word for between one and two years, the researchers tracked them down to see how they were faring.
The people who’d had purpose goals and felt they were attaining them
reported higher levels of satisfaction and subjective well-being than when they were in college, and quite low levels of anxiety and depression. That’s probably no surprise. They’d set a personally meaningful goal and felt they were reaching it. In that situation, most of us would likely feel pretty good, too.
But the results for people with profit goals were more complicated. Those who said they were attaining their goals—accumulating wealth, winning acclaim
—reported levels of satisfaction, self-esteem, and positive affect no higher than when they were students. In other words, they’d reached their goals, but it didn’t make them any happier. What’s more, graduates with profit goals showed increases in anxiety, depression, and other negative indicators—again, even though they were attaining their goals.
“One cannot lead a life that is truly excellent without feeling that one belongs to something greater and more permanent than oneself.”
MIHALY CSIKSZENTMIHALYI
“These findings are rather striking,” the researchers write, “as they suggest that attainment of a particular set of goals [in this case, profit goals] has no impact on well-being and actually contributes to i ll-being.”15
When I discussed these results with Deci and Ryan, they were especially
emphatic about their significance—because the findings suggest that even when we do get what we want, it’s not always what we need. “People who are very high in extrinsic goals for wealth are more likely to attain that wealth, but they’re still unhappy,” Ryan told me.
Or as Deci put it, “The typical notion is this: You value something. You attain it. Then you’re better off as a function of it. But what we find is that there are certain things that if you value and if you attain them, you’re worse off as a result of it, not better off.”
Failing to understand this conundrum—that satisfaction depends not merely on having goals, but on having the right goals—can lead sensible people down self-destructive paths. If people chase profit goals, reach those goals, and still don’t feel any better about their lives, one response is to increase the size and scope of the goals—to seek more money or greater outside validation. And that
can “drive them down a road of further unhappiness thinking it’s the road to happiness,” Ryan said.
“One of the reasons for anxiety and depression in the high attainers is that they’re not having good relationships. They’re busy making money and attending to themselves and that means that there’s less room in their lives for love and attention and caring and empathy and the things that truly count,” Ryan added.
And if the broad contours of these findings are true for individuals, why shouldn’t they also be true for organizations—which, of course, are collections of individuals? I don’t mean to say that profit doesn’t matter. It does. The profit motive has been an important fuel for achievement. But it’s not the only motive. And it’s not the most important one. Indeed, if we were to look at history’s greatest achievements—from the printing press to constitutional democracy to cures for deadly diseases—the spark that kept the creators working deep into the night was purpose at least as much as profit. A healthy society—and healthy business organizations—begins with purpose and considers profit a way to move toward that end or a happy by-product of its attainment.
And here the boomers—maybe, just maybe—can take the lead. On the subjects of autonomy and mastery, adults should look to the eloquent example of children. But perhaps purpose is another matter. Being able to contemplate the big picture, to ponder one’s own mortality, to understand the paradox that attaining certain goals isn’t the answer seem to require having spent a few years on the planet. And since the planet very soon will contain more people over age sixty-five than under age five for the first time in its existence, the timing couldn’t be better.
It’s in our nature to seek purpose. But that nature is now being revealed and expressed on a scale that is demographically unprecedented and, until recently, scarcely imaginable. The consequences could rejuvenate our businesses and remake our world.
A CENTRAL IDEA of this book has been the mismatch between what science knows and what business does. The gap is wide. Its existence is alarming. And though closing it seems daunting, we have reasons to be optimistic.
The scientists who study human motivation, several of whom we’ve encountered in this book, offer us a sharper and more accurate account of both
human performance and the human condition. The truths they’ve revealed are simple, yet powerful. The science shows that those typical twentieth-century carrot-and-stick motivators—things we consider somehow a “natural” part of human enterprise—can sometimes work. But they’re effective in only a surprisingly narrow band of circumstances. The science shows that “if-then” rewards—the mainstays of the Motivation 2.0 operating system—not only are ineffective in many situations, but also can crush the high-level, creative, conceptual abilities that are central to current and future economic and social progress. The science shows that the secret to high performance isn’t our biological drive or our reward-and-punishment drive, but our third drive—our deep-seated desire to direct our own lives, to extend and expand our abilities, and to live a life of purpose.
Bringing our businesses in sync with these truths won’t be easy. Unlearning old ideas is difficult, undoing old habits even harder. And I’d be less sanguine about the prospects of closing the motivation gap anytime soon, if it weren’t for this: The science confirms what we already know in our hearts.
We know that human beings are not merely smaller, slower, better-smelling horses galloping after that day’s carrot. We know—if we’ve spent time with young children or remember ourselves at our best—that we’re not destined to be passive and compliant. We’re designed to be active and engaged. And we know that the richest experiences in our lives aren’t when we’re clamoring for validation from others, but when we’re listening to our own voice—doing something that matters, doing it well, and doing it in the service of a cause larger than ourselves.
So, in the end, repairing the mismatch and bringing our understanding of motivation into the twenty-first century is more than an essential move for business. It’s an affirmation of our humanity.
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