Cute kittens can boost office productivity, says study

Looking at LOLcats could benefit your workflow.

As far-fetched as it may sound, a recent Japanese study reveals that looking at pictures of cute animals doesn’t just improve your mood, it can actually increase your productivity.

Contrary to the more traditional methods used in most corporate productivity plans, the report's findings support a more off-beat strategy: harnessing the power of "Kawaii".

In Japan, "Kawaii" (meaning cute) has become a cultural phenomenon in itself. From Pikachu to "Hello Kitty", the unyielding popularity of kawaii-culture has evolved into a multi-million dollar industry with a truly global reach.

According to the research, the popularity of kawaii lies in its propensity to generate ‘‘positive feelings”, triggered by the resemblance of cute characters to babies. As result of some deep biological impulse, studies suggest that the wide-eyed, chubby-cheeked look directly elicits a sense of well-being amongst adults; a feeling similar to those induced by looking at cute animals.

In the study’s first experiment, 48 students between the ages of 18 and 22 were given a relatively simple task: to play the Japanese equivalent of the board game Operation. Using tweezers, the subjects were asked to pluck plastic body parts from holes in the body of the "patient", without touching the sides of course.

After posting similar results in the first round, the students were divided into two groups. The first group were then shown pictures of cute kittens and puppies, while the others were shown images of fully-grown cats and dogs.Then the participants were asked to play again.

Astoundingly, the students who viewed the kawai-creatures were able to pluck out more body parts than they had done in the first round, whilst those shown the photos of their "non-cute" counterparts failed to improve on their initial score.

In another experiment, a fresh group of 48 students participated in a timed game in which they had to count how many times a certain digit appeared in cluster of numbers. As with the previous group, one group was shown photos of baby animals, while another group was shown adult animals. This time however, a third group was shown images of luxury foods, including photos of steak and sushi.

As with the first experiment, the researchers found that members of the "cute animal" group far outperformed their peers, recording higher scores with far fewer errors.

“Kawaii things not only make us happier, but also affect our behaviour”, concluded the Hiroshima University study.

“Cuteness not only improves fine motor skills but also increases perceptual carefulness”.

The key mechanism here lies in the ability of "cuteness" to tap into our innate compulsion to provide care to infants, which induces an added degree of diligence and carefulness in our behaviour. The research argues that this behavioural advantage can extend beyond caregiving into other activities, “such as driving and office work”.

So if you needed yet another reason to routinely check Pandacam or yet another excuse to forward ‘Bath Time for Baby Sloths’ to everyone at your office, then there you go.

Forget about incentive programmes, complex ranking systems and technological optimisation, investing heavily in lolcat posters might just provide the productivity boost your business craves.

Cute kittens: the key to productivity. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Ward is a London-based freelance journalist who has previously worked for the Times & the Press Association. Twitter: @alexward3000

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Want your team to succeed? Try taking a step back

From the boardroom to the sports ground, managers need to step back for creativity to thrive.

Everyone is in favour of creativity, usually at the expense of creative people. The concept is in perpetual boom. Give us creative midfielders, creative leadership, creative solutions, creative energy. It’s with the “how” that the problems start – with extra meetings and meddling, over-analysis and prescriptiveness, whiteboards and flow charts. Professional systems rarely support the creativity that they allegedly seek. The creativity industry system is at odds with its stated goals.

The novel was an early casualty. Nothing makes me close a book more quickly and finally than the creeping realisation that the author is following a narrative map purchased on an American creative writing course. Life is too short for competent novels. The creativity industry pulls up the worst while dragging down the best.

Something similar happens inside professional sport, even though creativity is so obviously linked to performance and profit. Yet sport, especially English sport, has suffered from excessive managerialism. Perhaps guilt about English sport’s amateur legacy gave “professionalism” free rein, however pedestrian its form.

Here is sport’s problem with creativity: professional systems crave control, but creativity relies on escaping control. If an attacking player doesn’t know what he is going to do next, what chance does the defender have?

So when truly unexpected moments do happen, they take on a special lustre. This month, Olivier Giroud scored an unforgettable goal for Arsenal. Bearing down on the goal, he was already launched in mid-air when he realised that the cross was well behind him. With his body far ahead of his feet, Giroud clipped the ball to the top corner of the net with the outside of his left ankle – a so-called scorpion kick.

It was, in retrospect, the only option available to him. Football, for a moment, touched the arts – not only beautiful, but also complete. Nothing could have been added or taken away.

I once tried to compare the perfect cricket shot to Robert Frost’s celebrated description of writing a poem: “It begins in delight, it inclines to the impulse, it assumes direction with the first line laid down, it runs a course of lucky events, and ends in a clarification . . . Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.”

A great goal, however, fits that poetic model better than a cricket shot. Cricket shots come in many aesthetic grades, but they are all intended as shots. A goal, on the other hand, is more than just a very good pass, only better. There is an act of transformation within the event.

Frost’s acknowledgment of luck (distinct here from fluke) neatly defuses the accusation. Saying that a great goal involved luck does not to diminish it. Many unearned factors must interact with the skill.

“But did he mean it?” some people have wondered about Giroud’s goal. That isn’t the point, either. There wasn’t time. Giroud had solved the problem – to make contact with the ball, however possible, directing it towards the goal – before he was fully conscious of it. That doesn’t make it an accident. The expertise of a striker, like that of a writer, is opportunistic. He puts himself in positions where his skills can become productive. It is a honed ability to be instinctive. “If I’d thought about it, I never would have done it,” as Bob Dylan sings on “Up to Me”, an out-take from Blood on the Tracks.

Pseudo-intellectual? Quite the reverse. There is nothing pretentious about recognising and protecting creativity in sport. Over-literal decoding is the greater threat: instinctive performance needs to be saved from team meetings, not from intellectuals.

Having described a creative goal as unplanned – indeed, impossible to plan – what can coaches do to help? They can get out of the way, that’s a good start. It is no coincidence that the teams of Arsène Wenger, who is sometimes criticised for being insufficiently prescriptive, score more than their fair share of wonder goals.

The opposite arrangement is bleak. A friend of mine, a fly-half in professional rugby union, retired from the game when his coaches told him exactly which decisions to make in the first six phases of every attacking move. In effect, they banned him from playing creatively; they wanted rugby by numbers.

Not everything can be rehearsed. One useful book for coaches scarcely mentions sport – Inside Conducting, by the conductor Christopher Seaman. “I’ve never had much sympathy for conductors who ‘program’ an orchestra at rehearsal,” Seaman writes, “and then just run the program during the performance. There is much more
to it than that.”

Dan Vettori, the rising star among cricket’s Twenty20 coaches, is rare for having the bravery to echo Seaman’s theory. He believes that cricketers are more likely to play well when they feel slightly underprepared. It’s a risk and a fine balance – but worth it.

As I explored here last month in the context of Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, there is a danger of slotting players into false stereotypes and classifications. Giroud, for example, is slow. Slow yet athletic. That’s an unusual combination and partly explains why he is underrated.

We often think of pace as the central and definitive aspect of athleticism. But speed is just one component of total athletic ability (leave to one side footballing skill). Giroud has an outstanding vertical jump, power and great balance. Because he is big and slow, those athletic gifts are harder to spot.

Management systems overestimate both labels and top-down tactics. A braver policy, pragmatic as well as aesthetic, is to be less controlling: allow opportunity to collide with skill, directed by an open, expert and uncluttered mind. l

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 12 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's revenge