Why We Say Yes When We Don’t Want To
From an early age, we are taught that obedience is good, and disobedience is bad. Saying yes is polite and agreeable, while saying no is often seen as selfish or disruptive. These lessons shape us psychologically, socially, and even neurologically.
When we are rewarded for compliant behavior, our brain rewards us with a hit of dopamine, the neurotransmitter associated with pleasure. Repeated compliance strengthens the neural pathways associated with saying “yes.”
[time-brightcove not-tgx=”true”]On the other hand, acts of defiance—especially when they are met with disapproval—receive no such reward, making those pathways weaker or less likely to develop. Over time, compliance becomes a default response.
This tendency is reinforced throughout our lives. At school, we are praised for obedience and penalized for questioning authority. At work, compliance is embedded in professional hierarchies. Even in our personal lives, studies show that those who are conscientious or have agreeable dispositions are more likely to acquiesce to others’ demands. It’s no wonder, then, that saying “yes” feels easier, safer, and even expected—while saying no can feel like swimming against a tide of social conditioning.
We feel immense pressure from others to meet their expectations, often prioritizing social harmony over our better judgment. This need for connection and acceptance drives us to comply, even when doing so conflicts with what we know is right.
Read More: Yes, You Can Get Better at Saying No
Research consistently highlights how this pressure to comply shapes our behavior. In a series of experiments, my colleagues and I found that people frequently took bad advice, even when the flaws in the advice were glaringly obvious. In one study, participants were asked to choose between two lotteries, one of which was clearly inferior in value. When an advisor encouraged participants to select the subpar lottery, compliance rates were often as high as 85%. Requests to comply created a social obligation too uncomfortable to resist. However, when participants had the chance to revise their choices in private, compliance dropped to about 50%—still substantially high but a clear indication of how the physical presence of others magnifies the pressure to comply.
In another experiment, we had a middle-aged man approach 253 ferry passengers traveling from Connecticut to Long Island, offering them $5 or a chance to play a mystery lottery (with an average payout of less than $5) in exchange for completing a survey. Without advice, only 8% of participants chose the lottery. When the man recommended the lottery, 20% complied. Alarmingly, when he disclosed that he would receive a bonus if they selected the lottery—introducing a blatant conflict of interest—compliance jumped to 42%. Despite admitting that this revelation reduced their trust in the man, many passengers said they felt uneasy rejecting his suggestion outright, fearing it would imply they thought he was untrustworthy.
This discomfort they felt, which I call “insinuation anxiety,” is an aversive emotional state that arises when we fear that rejecting someone’s request will be interpreted as a signal of distrust or disrespect. Insinuation anxiety can explain why patients sometimes comply with unnecessary medical tests, or why employees accept unrealistic demands from their bosses. The thought of questioning someone’s expertise or intentions can be so unsettling to us that we’d rather choose compliance to avoid the awkwardness of implied doubt.
Even in extreme cases, insinuation anxiety may compel compliance. Stanley Milgram’s landmark psychology experiments on obedience to authority illustrate dramatic compliance. Participants were instructed to administer what they believed were dangerous electric shocks to a stranger. Many were visibly distressed suggesting they did not wish to comply, yet two-thirds could not reject the experimenter’s directives, prioritizing obedience over their own moral values.
This drive to avoid insinuating mistrust stems from a desire to maintain social harmony, avoid embarrassment, and “save face” for the person giving advice. The cost, however, is that we often suppress our own values and judgments to placate others.
Stanley Milgram’s obedience experiments also reveal another dimension of compliance: the abdication of responsibility. Many participants administered what they believed were dangerous shocks because, as they said, they were “just following orders.” This tendency to transfer moral accountability to authority figures is known as “ethical fading”—it shrinks our sense of responsibility and numbs us to the consequences of our actions.
In my research, I’ve found a similar dynamic: People often say yes to bad advice because they believe it will shield them from blame if things go wrong. Ironically, however, the opposite is true. Compliance doesn’t absolve regret; it amplifies it. When we ignore our better judgment, we end up feeling more culpable for poor outcomes, not less.
Compliance and consent are often conflated but are fundamentally different. Compliance is reactive and externally dictated, imposed by systems or authority figures that leave us with little room to say no. Consent, by contrast, is deliberate—a deeply considered agreement or refusal rooted in one’s values. Valid consent requires five elements to be present: capacity, knowledge, understanding, freedom, and authorization. Studies have shown that when people feel rushed or overwhelmed, it is difficult for them to process information in a deliberate fashion, mitigating their informed consent.
Defiance, too, is often misunderstood. Many people assume it must be loud, aggressive, or confrontational. But like consent, true defiance is deliberate and deeply personal. Defiance, as I see it, requires the same five elements as consent to ensure that we can act in accordance with our values. It’s not about rebellion for its own sake but about alignment—choosing actions that reflect your values, even under pressure.
Even when we recognize the need to defy, many of us lack the tools to translate internal discomfort into action. Defiance, like any other skill, requires practice. But society rarely gives us the space to develop it. Without practice, we default to compliance and continue to say yes when we want to say no. Developing the ability to defy starts with recognizing discomfort as a signal, pausing to reflect on your values, and taking small, deliberate steps toward action. The more we practice, the more confident we become in our capacity to align our actions with our principles.
While defiance is often associated with risk—social exclusion, professional backlash, or strained relationships—the costs of compliance are equally profound. When we comply without question, we erode our sense of agency, disconnect from our values, and, in many cases, perpetuate harm to ourselves or others.
Understanding the psychology of compliance is the first step toward reclaiming our autonomy. By recognizing the forces that drive us to say yes when we mean no, we can begin to create relationships, workplaces, and communities that value authenticity over unexamined obedience. Every decision we make—whether to comply or to defy—shapes the world we live in. When we align our actions with our values, we don’t just change our own lives, we create a culture where integrity and respect thrive. Compliance may be our default, but it doesn’t have to be our destiny.