16.3 Norms and Roles

When groups form, two curious things happen. The first is that group members start acting alike in conscious and unconscious ways, called norms. In group contexts, for example, when you ask people to go around the room and introduce themselves, there are many possible ways they can do this and many types of information they could include. But I’ve noticed that if the first person starts by saying how long they’ve lived in the area, what their hobbies are, and how they came to be in the room, other people instinctively follow the same format, and by the seventh or eighth person, the norm of how to introduce yourself is already set like concrete: they all report how long they’ve lived there and their hobbies, but no one mentions their major or their age.

Some norms are consciously spelled out, such as Rules of Conduct or legal guidelines. In an elevator, for example, there is only one explicit norm, printed on a sign at the front: the number of people allowed to be in there (the weight limit). The absence of any other written rules implies that “anything goes” in an elevator, but of course that’s not true. There are many unspoken rules, or implicit norms,  that people diligently follow even if those rules aren’t written down anywhere. Space yourselves evenly apart, face the front of the elevator, don’t sing loudly, no sitting on the floor, move over to let others out when the doors open, and so on (these norms vary in different parts of the world).

One challenge of the COVID era was the necessity of new, explicit norms that went against implicit norms. Some elevators, for instance, had signs warning that only one or two people were allowed in an elevator car at a time, and if the door opened and a new person wanted to get on, you were supposed to violate politeness norms and tell them to wait for the next car. The elevator sign here is an even more extreme example of trying to impose explicit norms that fly in the face of implicit ones.

Did anyone ever follow this standing arrangement? It’s hard to believe they would, no matter what the sign says. (For an older example, think of apartment buildings with strict rules about letting nonresidents in, which get violated when someone leaving sees another person trying to get in and holds the door open for them to “be nice.”)

One curious thing about group norms is that the members of the group might be completely unaware of them. When I taught Small Group Communication, I put students into stable groups that met once a week to work on a series of projects, and had them write journals about how the group was going. If I asked them about the norms in their group, many would say “We don’t have norms in our group; we’re just normal” (not noticing that they used the word “norm” in the middle of the word “norm-al”). To open their eyes to their own group norms, I would have a group skip a meeting one week, and ask each member to visit another group in the class, which is when they first realized that all groups are different. (If you want to identify cultural norms in your country, the quickest way may be to visit another country and see how they do things over there.)

Some norms deal with the task dimension of the group: getting the work done. One basic factor is how committed members are to the tasks — do they stay for long meetings, or just do the minimal amount of work and leave as soon as possible? Is all work done meticulously and checked and rechecked by others, or is it “slap dash” and hasty? What is the information flow in the group: is everyone kept informed of everything, and if so, through what channels? How are decisions made, and who is included in that process? In the quidditch team, decisions are mostly made informally by the “ingroup,” but its members are not very good about letting others know what was decided. Sporadic emails and group texts are sent out by two or three members, but most of the time people find out what’s going on just through in-person conversations at practices.

Other norms revolve around the social dimension of the group: how much time people spend chatting before they get down to business, how well they get to know each other, how “personal” things get, what the emotional climate of the group is (warm, chilly, heated, calm?), the morale level, how big a role humor plays, and how conflict is expressed (see next chapter). In the quidditch team, a norm quickly sets in of quoting lines from Harry Potter movies, and trying to imitate the accents of different characters. People’s dating lives are a frequent topic of conversation at team practices, and sexual humor is common.

A second curious thing also happens when groups form: group members start acting differently from each other, and taking on roles. One person takes over as the group’s comic relief, for instance, another acts as a task-master; a third expresses much more interest in the social side of the group, a fourth is full of suggestions, and a fifth is skeptical of all these ideas and says why they won’t work.

These specific behaviors may all seem to be personality-based, but personality is only one of the factors that go into a person’s group role. Another factor is what the group needs. Grant didn’t want to be the paperwork guy, but after Anjuli left, someone had to do it. That’s a formal role, but even informal roles such as “blocker” (the member who questions all decisions, doesn’t like any suggestions, and vetoes initiatives) can be adopted because someone thinks that function needs to be done, even if it’s not their normal style. For this reason, you shouldn’t assume that everyone is happy with their role in a group.

Group communication textbooks typically break down the common roles into categories:

• Task-related: delegating work, suggesting ideas, gathering information, synthesizing it, seeking opinions, and serving as recorder-secretary
• Social: encouraging and supporting people, relieving tension, maintaining communication ties inside and outside the group, smoothing over conflict
• Disruptive: blocking, seeking attention, distracting, mocking

Any person can hold several of these roles, of course, and the role of leader is usually a composite of many of them.

Along with roles comes the idea of power, which is an unavoidable facet of group life. Some groups have a norm of being locked into constant power struggles, but even in harmonious groups, certain members have more power than others. Using a typology first developed by French and Raven, you can identify five types of power among group members:

1. Legitimate power comes from having formal authority, an official title, or the ability to legally make decisions for others. The quidditch team hasn’t elected any officers yet, so no one in the group has this form of power at the moment.
2. Expert power comes from having knowledge or skills that are valued by other group members. Nola’s adeptness with social media gives her considerable power in the team; Troy is an awesome (goal) keeper.
3. Popularity and likeability are forms of power as well, which Grant has even though he’s not good with forms or even at playing quidditch. French and Raven originally called this “referent power,” stemming from people identifying with a member and wanting to be like them.
4. Reward and Coercive power are two sides of the same coin: the ability to bring the group something it wants, or threaten to take away something it values. Fay had access to a practice room the team could use (reward power), so the team treated her well, and when she threatened to quit the team (coercive power), they bent over backwards to placate her.
5. Alliance power comes from joining forces with others, knowing the right people, and networking. Brandon’s power comes from being close friends with Grant.

The interaction of norms and roles — how groups act alike vs. how the individual members act differently — never ceases to fascinate me. In families, for example, it’s fun to look for patterns and overall family traits, but it’s also interesting to observe the roles played by individual members: the “black sheep of the family,” the communication “node” (the person at the center of the flow of communication), the conflict mediator, the spokesperson who represents the family when talking to outsiders.

I’m equally intrigued by musical groups and sports teams, where you have assigned positions and instruments, but they don’t necessarily connect to the social roles that members take on. In rock bands, for example, the lead singer is referred to as the “front person” (the most visible performer), but this is not the same as the leader who actually runs things and makes decisions. Some bands are democratic, with everyone having an equal say in decisions, while others have a dominant leader who dictates decisions and treats others as “hired guns.” And some bands pretend to be the first kind but are really the second kind. (If you’re interested in the difference between being a member of the band and being a musician for hire, I recommend Fran Stine’s 2016 documentary Hired Gun and Denny Tedesco’s 2008 film The Wrecking Crew).