As part of their extensive decades-long research on relationships, the clinical psychologists John and Julie Gottman conducted a study with newlyweds, then followed up with them six years later. At that point, many of the couples remained together, while many were divorced. Their research determined that couples that stayed married were much better at one thing: turning “towards” instead of “away.” It has to do with the idea of “emotional bids.” In any relationship, but certainly romantic relationships, each partner has their own ways of reaching out to the other, whether using words, sharing a thought, or extending physical touch. When a partner makes such a bid, the other one can either turn toward, away, or against that bid.
Imagine one of the partners looks out the window and says, “Look at that bird out there! I’ve never seen one of those before.” The other partner can either not look up from her phone (turn away), respond with “I don’t care about birds” (turn against), or respond with “Try to snap a picture of it!” (turn towards). Hopefully the qualitative difference in that example is palpable. “Turning toward” is about leaning into something another person cares to bring up or offer, and it’s a critical aspect of lasting relationships. At the six-year follow-up with the newlyweds, couples that stayed married turned towards one another 86% of the time. Couples that divorced averaged only 33% of the time.
Now maybe this sounds like a silly example to you, but would you still think it silly if I told you that John Gottman can predict divorce in any couple with over 90% accuracy thanks to nuances such as turning toward v. turning away? In other words, the concept actually isn’t silly at all—it’s a very real thing.
This is the compelling piece for me—those seemingly ordinary, inconsequential comments like “Look at that bird” are the very fabric of what makes us social creatures seeking social connection with the people around us. We may not be the only species that does it, but I’d argue that it might define us as a species more than any other trait. Most species cultivate and innovate, most species do their best to adapt and thrive, and many species work together to be stronger—but for us, I think there’s something more to fulfillment for us as a people. There’s an added element that makes us want to work beside someone else to carry the heavy item or fight the enemy or solve the problem. Without empathy, without a desire to lean into each other’s “why,” I believe much of our social fabric wears away.
Imagine the impact if all of our “bids” for connection, consequential or not, were to go unanswered by our neighbors, colleagues, and peers. According to Dr. John Gottman, if our partner constantly responds to our bids by turning away or against, we’re going to stop making the bids at all. We’ll disengage, lose the propensity or ability to give our partner the benefit of the doubt, and ultimately choose loneliness, even if we didn’t intend to choose it.
Now, lucky for you, me, and everyone—we don’t all have to marry each other, like in the Gottman example. But, the lesson doesn’t start and end with spouses. It teaches us so much about communities and societies at large. If we refuse to turn toward each other, or maybe worse, forget how to turn toward each other, I fear for our future on a very deep, deep level.
Many others, much more eloquent and researched than me, have explored this whole concept whether from a political or sociological perspective—when you get to know people, you tend to feel connected. Most social functioning, including friendship, compromise, and critically, respectful disagreement, depends on both cognitive and emotional empathy. That’s partly why an erosion of personal relationships due to the advent of advancements (evils?) like social media and now threats from AI matters so much: when people stop knowing each other as human beings, they have a tendency to start acting more like adversaries and enemies rather than colleagues who disagree and want to get to the bottom of it. The connection, or the root system that holds everything up, starts to die.
Don’t forget about Harvard’s famous longitudinal study of its graduates from age 19 until well into their nineties—the results of which are maybe more timely than ever. They studied what sort of correlation or causations existed to predict health, quality of life, and ultimately, happiness for the participants throughout their long lives, and found that the number one predictor was having close personal relationships with others. That mattered more than social class, money, intelligence, cholesterol, genetics, etc.
This shift away from personal relationships and empathy started decades ago, and in fact I’ve talked about it before in discussions of Robert Putnam’s book Bowling Alone. In it, Putnam explores the fact that since the middle of the twentieth century, Americans have gotten increasingly disconnected with community and civic engagement and instead have become more and more isolated. Americans, at the time the author wrote the book, were actually bowling more than ever, but just not in an organized way; league membership had steadily declined. We were (and still are) quite literally bowling alone. But it seems the tectonic plates of society have shifted further since the 50s, and more rapidly as of late. I’d argue that we aren’t just bowling alone anymore, but we’re attacking or rejecting the people who bowl without us for wanting to bowl at all, often behind a screen in an echo chamber of our own beliefs—we’re losing the ability to lean into connection over common ground and are instead focused on differences. It’s not just a trend in bowling leagues. Many have written about the impact of structural changes in Congress over the last several decades, including a shortened work week and politicians not physically living in DC. Political scientist Bryce Dietrich found representatives have physically crossed the aisle less and less to interact with opposing colleagues over time since the late 1990s. They’ve also presumably gotten to know each other less because they’ve spent increasingly less time in Washington each week, month, and year. There’s much debate on the impact of that, but my personal feeling is that if you don’t go out for dinner and drinks with your colleagues; if you haven’t mingled with each other’s spouses or seen each other’s kids’ soccer games and band concerts, how could that not have an impact on the way you view (or don’t view) each other as human beings?
We were recently at a company retreat for all of our employees where we made presence and connection a focus of it. Strategic planning was of course part of it, but leadership knew that if we led with collaboration and team bonding, strategy would come more naturally. The reverse is not necessarily true—hoping bonding comes as a result of corporate strategizing—so the order matters. Feel connected as a team, and your strength and ability multiplies. Your dreams feel less far-fetched and more achievable when you have a team beside you. Hurdles feel less insurmountable when you aren’t facing them alone. I could rattle off a million quotes from coaches, founders, and thought leaders about this concept—it’s not new or enlightening, it’s just age-old wisdom. What keeps us thriving, even through adversity, is our ability to understand each other deeply and to find lightness together.
A couple weeks ago, I listened to a hysterical podcast with comedian Zarna Garg that friends had been urging me to try. As someone who usually digests two to three podcasts per day on more “important” (said with an eye roll) topics such as markets and business, I found myself thinking, what’s more important than laughing to feel more in tune with the world and people around me? What could be more important than remembering why all of this matters, how similar we all are at our core, and that life is too freaking short not to find humor in as much of it as possible? Laughter is incredible medicine for people who can’t agree to disagree, who refuse to have the dialogue to disagree in the first place. Laughter is in fact like medicine: it relaxes you, it stimulates your organs, it relieves stress, it soothes tension, it helps with coping and connection, it improves your mood. It’s medicine for the heartbreak and tragedy and fear that envelopes you sometimes. My yoga teacher always emphasizes the importance of deep breaths and long exhales for lowering heart rate, lowering stress levels, and releasing heat. Guess what? Laughter does the same thing. It’s like a great reset. But the only thing better than laughter itself is laughing along with someone else. It’s a social and emotional conduit—it disarms and brings levity to otherwise heavy topics, and it can change the air in a room or between two people quicker than anything else.
Perhaps those of us who write these Insights pieces should stay in our lane and stick to investments and financial planning. However, many of us have been doing this long enough to know that money, stress, hope, despair, love, conflict, connection, and fulfillment are fortunately or unfortunately much more inextricable than you might think. There is no staying in our lane when the meaning of life and fulfillment is really at the root of all of it—it’s all in the same lane.
The reason this isn’t a government shutdown story is not because the shutdown is unimportant. It is important, and it has the potential to have real consequences for federal employees, government programs, and services, business and contractors, and the broader economy. And it feels like another thing to worry about and stress about. But it also feels like a symptom of a larger, exhausting problem. It is more cathartic to think of a pragmatic approach to solving the problem.
This week, I pose a challenge to all of you. In just one instance in your life, I challenge you to choose hope over darkness, despite the awful headline or the devastating news you hear. I challenge you to reset your anger with humor during a heated conversation with your spouse or your teenager. I challenge you to turn toward someone in a moment where they’re bidding for a shared moment—and even better if you’re turning toward someone with whom you fundamentally disagree. I challenge you to have the guts to see the bright side and the human side of something or someone ugly.
History has tended to reward those who believe that tomorrow can be better than today. It doesn’t reward those who throw in the towel, give up in fear that Nothing has ever been as bad as this. Markets don’t move in spite of those people, or because investors are naïve. They tend to rise in part because the world of human beings keeps showing up and leaning in, solving problems, innovating, and creating value over time. In that way, hope isn’t a blind leap of faith—it’s actually a rational posture rooted in what we as humans prove ourselves capable of, time and time again. That same posture makes life more enjoyable, too. Optimists tend to see setbacks as temporary, opportunities as possible, and people as capable. Hope doesn’t mean ignoring risk, pain, or reality; it means refusing to let darkness take over.
By all means, keep expectations modest. Plan conservatively. Assume the road will be bumpy. We certainly do this in our job as financial advisors and planners. But also leave room for hope—for the possibility that things may turn out better than we dared imagine. Because life has a way of rewarding those who keep their eyes on the horizon and believe in good things and good people.
Disclosures: This material is provided for informational and educational purposes only. It is not intended as investment advice, tax advice, accounting advice, or legal advice, and should not be relied upon as such. The views expressed are those of the author at the time of publication and may change without notice. The discussion of historical market performance, economic trends, or behavioral research is included for illustrative purposes only. Past performance is not indicative of, and does not guarantee, future results. Future market or economic outcomes are inherently uncertain, and no forecast, projection, or assurance of future performance should be inferred. All investing involves risk, including the possible loss of principal. There is no assurance that any investment strategy or philosophy will be successful or achieve its objectives. Investors should consider their own financial situation, objectives, and risk tolerance before making any investment decisions. References to research, studies, or books (including work by John and Julie Gottman, Robert Putnam, Harvard longitudinal studies, and others) are for general context only and do not imply endorsement or validation of investment strategies by those researchers or institutions. Howe & Rusling, Inc. (“H&R”) is an SEC-registered investment adviser located in Rochester, New York. Registration with the SEC does not imply a certain level of skill or training.
