Damien Hughes (7:36)
So why are we learning this? Well, let's dig into the research on identity priming. Back in 2007, a Stanford professor called Nick Yee asked a simple but I think a really probing question. What happens when you step into a new identity? To test it, he turned to what was then cutting edge technology, virtual reality. So imagine slipping on a headset, and in the blink of an eye, you are no longer you. You're looking out at the world through a new face and a new body. This is where it gets interesting, right? For some participants, Yee created Avatars that were tall, confident, and conventionally attractive. For other participants, he dialled the settings down a little bit. Their characters were shorter, less striking, and even a little bit awkward looking. Then he let them loose. And here's where it gets really fascinating, right? The changes didn't just happen inside the game. They started to spill out into real life. The people inhabiting the taller, more attractive avatars tended to stand straighter. They spoke with more assertiveness, they negotiated harder, and they did it even when the headset was eventually taken off. Whereas those that were given shorter, less conventionally attractive avatars, they behaved in the opposite way. They were more hesitant, they were less bold, and they were more likely to back down in the face of a disagreement. Now, Yi called this the Proteus effect, named after the Greek God who could shapeshift. And his conclusion was that the identities, which we assume even temporarily or even symbolically begin to shape how we act. When you think about it, you probably felt the same effect yourself. You put on a perfectly tailored suit and suddenly you walk into a meeting with a little bit more poise. Or you buy yourself a new pair of running shoes and your brain says, I'm an athlete now. Even before you've broken a sweat, hand a kid a Batman cape. And then watch how they transform. Get the shoulders back, the chest out, and they're suddenly braver than they were five minutes ago. That's exactly what John Stephens did when he accepted the name legend. He was stepping into an identity larger than his current reality. He didn't yet have the Grammys, the platinum records, or performing his sell out global tours. But the moment he took on the name, he created like a new avatar for himself, One that demanded he perform at a higher standard. And slowly, his behavior began to align with that. He started working longer nights in the studio. The boldness of his lyrics started to come out, and the ambition in his sound was evident to anyone who heard him. It wasn't that the world suddenly saw him differently. The important point here is he saw himself differently. Because once you put on the legend jersey, you can't just turn up like you're a newbie. Once you've stepped into that avatar, you can't start acting and behaving small time. The name was almost like a mirror. And John had to grow tall enough to meet his own reflection. That's the hidden strength of an audacious name. It doesn't let you settle. It creates a moving target where each performance is another chance to close that gap between who you are and who you really want to be. Maybe that's the point. The greatest performers don't pick names to describe their reality. They pick names that stretch it. This principle doesn't just apply to a world famous artist like John. It shows up in children as young as four. I love this experiment where psychologists designed a deceptively simple study. Picture this right, A group of kids sitting at computers and they're all being given a dull, repetitive task to do. Think. Like clicking shapes on a screen over and over again. Something boring enough that even adults had struggled to keep at it. But there was a brilliant catch in it. At any moment, the kids could stop and go and play a colorful, tempting game on a tablet in the corner. It was like the marshmallow test for the digital age. The researchers split the kids into three groups. The first group were told to ask themselves at regular intervals, am I working hard? The second group had to use their own name, so they'd go, is Damien working hard? And then the final group got the most fun assignment of all. They were invited to role play as if they were their favorite hero. So it might be Batman, Dora the Explorer or Bob the Builder. They even got props to match up with it. So it might be a cape, a backpack or a plastic hard hat. And they had to ask themselves the question, is Batman working hard? Now, the results from this exercise were remarkable. The first group, the ones stuck in the eye perspective, tended to give up the boring task quickest. The second group, those speaking to themselves in the third person, they lasted a little bit longer. But the Batman kids were unstoppable. They tended to work the longest, hardest, and stick at it most persistently. Why? Well, it seems that the moment they slipped into that costume, the task stopped being about a bored four year old and it became about Batman. And we all know Batman doesn't quit. The researchers called it the Batman effect. When you step outside yourself and into a larger Persona, your behaviour begins to align with that Persona's qualities. And once you see it, I promise you, you'll start to spot it everywhere. It's like when a child puts on a firefighter's helmet and suddenly they stand a bit taller and braver. Or a student starts calling themselves the scientist. And they then approach an experiment they've got to do at school with a little bit more curiosity. Even adults feel it. Think about how different you carry yourself if you were wearing your gym kit versus when you snuggled up in your pyjamas. For children, the Persona was Batman or Dora. But for Jon, it was legend. By claiming the name he created his own version of the Batman effect. He wasn't John Stevens anymore. He's now stepped into a role, an alter ego that demands more of him. More creativity, more daring and more ambition. John's decision to live up to this new identity might sound a little bit unusual, granted, but history is full of similar stories, moments where assuming a new name, a new Persona, or even a new alter ego doesn't just decorate a career, but has the potential to transform it. Take Cassius Clay in 1964, fresh from shocking the world by beating Sonny Liston. The very next day, he announced that he'd no longer be known by what he called his slave name. From that day forward, he became Muhammad Ali. That change wasn't just political. It was poetic, rhythmic, unforgettable. The name itself embodied boldness and destiny. And as Ali himself once put it, I don't have to be what you want me to be. I'm free to be who I want to be. His name became the manifesto and his performances rose to match it. But it's not artists and athletes. It's the business world is full of leaders who crafted identities to stretch themselves and their organisations. Steve Jobs built that whole identity of the visionary rebel. Close your eyes and I'm sure you can picture him in his black turtleneck. The stagecraft of unveiling a new product, the language of thinking different. That wasn't just marketing, it was Jobs himself, casting himself as an outsider who could reshape entire industries. And once that identity was claimed, well, seems like every product, every keynote speech you give, had to live up to it. Howard Schultz, the longtime CEO of Starbucks, has often described himself as the chief storyteller of that operation. That wasn't his job title, it was an identity that he chose. So it meant that every decision, from the smell of the coffee to the layout of the stores, well, it had to serve a larger story that he was trying to tell about connection and community.
