Actual Intelligence

I’ve spent my entire career in marketing and over time I’ve grounded my approach in the science of how people actually think, feel, and decide—drawing from neuroscience, evolutionary anthropology, and behavioral psychology. Most good marketers already understand segmentation and value proposition design. But great marketers go further—they study the human. They know that virality is really about biochemistry. That the brain is built for stories, for emotion, and for tribal cues that lay the strategic foundation for designing FOMO into a campaign. Understanding that structure is what turns a campaign into a movement. Every choice is shaped by physiological forces that, in many cases, aren’t even known by the chooser. Understanding those forces is what will elevate your work from clever to compelling.

This article explores the key psychological insights every marketer should understand to  connect more deeply—not just with customers, but with humans. Whether you’re a student, a  strategist, a CEO, or someone trying to get an idea across, these are tools for moving from good to great.

Wired to Connect (Matthew Lieberman)

Early in my career, I discovered the work of UCLA neuroscientist Matthew Lieberman, and it excited me because it was foundational to understanding why and how people connect with each other. We humans are wired to connect. According to Lieberman, our need for social connection is as fundamental as our need for food or water.

In fact, brain scans reveal that when we feel socially rejected, the same areas light up as when we experience physical pain. A snub or negative comment on social media doesn’t just feel bad. It actually hurts.

Lieberman’s studies showed that this neural overlap isn’t a coincidence—it reflects how central social connection is to the brain’s architecture. The brain allocates significan resources to monitoring social cues, tracking group status, and interpreting belonging. This means that even digital exclusion—like being left out of a group chat or ignored on a comment thread—can activate pain-related regions in the brain.

From a strategic standpoint, this insight opens up a powerful design opportunity for marketers. Brands that make people feel included, seen, and part of a group tap directly into this social circuitry. Rituals like Spotify Wrapped show how brands can serve as scaffolding for identity and group affiliation. Spotify Wrapped goes beyond just being a campaign—it’s a social ritual that appears annually, giving users a moment to publicly reflect, compare, and celebrate their listening identity. It’s personal, but collective. Time-bound, but widely accessible. And because it taps into the human drive for both self-expression and social validation, it becomes a cultural event that spreads effortlessly across platforms. When brands create moments like these—where personal data meets communal storytelling—they generate a sense of inclusion that reverberates.

That insight reshapes the way we can approach campaigns. People don’t just buy products, they join communities. The most successful brands speak to belonging. They make people feel seen. Whether it’s an online fan base or a campaign that says, “we get you,” connection is the currency.

Seth Godin calls this social adhesion—the invisible glue that binds us to ideas, behaviours, and brands. It’s not an add-on. It’s the core.

Dr. Marcus Collins, in his work on cultural contagion, builds on this idea by emphasizing that people don’t adopt behaviours because of information—they adopt them because of identification. The stories we tell, the cues we signal, and the cultural codes we activate all contribute to whether something sticks socially. When we align a brand with the shared values of a group, we’re reinforcing a sense of belonging.

So how do we design for FOMO (the Fear of Missing Out)? Strategically engineered FOMO starts by understanding why our brains create urgency and significance for things like that.

Our brains are wired to connect, and when we see ‘people like us’ doing something that we aren’t yet a part of, the same neural system that activates when we’re physically hurt begins to light up. Missing out isn’t just disappointing—it creates real, measurable discomfort. FOMO leverages this neurobiology by presenting social participation as emotionally and physiologically rewarding, while absence feels like exclusion.

Engineering FOMO can take the form of limited access, but more powerfully, it’s driven by timing and participation. Think: Spotify Wrapped. It’s not scarce, but it’s moment-bound. It’s personal, yet social. And it invites comparison, reflection, and sharing. That’s how FOMO works at the level of social neurobiology—it transforms moments of participation into signals of inclusion and relevance.

The chemistry of engagement (Helen Fisher)

We can also find deep inspiration in the work of biological anthropologist Helen Fisher, who  studied the neurochemistry of love.

Using fMRI scans, she showed that romantic love and cocaine activate the same areas of the  brain. In Fisher’s words, love is a “positive addiction”. That discovery is relevant to marketing  and branding.  Can people love a brand? Not in the same way they love a partner, of course. But the  attachment mechanisms are strikingly similar. We bond to what makes us feel alive,  understood, and emotionally charged.

Fisher’s research helps us understand how different people connect to brands through
different emotional systems:

• Dopamine fuels desire, curiosity, and the pursuit of reward. People with dopamine-dominant systems are drawn to exploration, novelty, and high-energy experiences. Red Bull speaks directly to this system—not just through its product, but through its brand posture. From extreme sports sponsorships to adrenaline-laced storytelling, Red Bull is built on anticipation and motion. It doesn’t just offer stimulation—it rewards the thrill-seeking mind with a continuous stream of what’s next.
• Serotonin is the chemistry of stability and order. It supports behaviours rooted in loyalty, calm, and trust. Brands that resonate here offer consistency and a sense of control. Volvo is a masterclass in this domain. From its emphasis on safety to its understated design language, Volvo appeals to those who seek reliability and composure. It markets not with flash, but with assurance.
• Testosterone drives competitiveness, precision, and performance. Testosterone-dominant individuals are drawn to symbols of excellence. Porsche doesn’t just sell luxury vehicles—it sells refined dominance. Its communication is crisp, deliberate, and infused with mastery. For those attuned to this system, Porsche is not just a car. It’s proof.
• Estrogen/Oxytocin influence emotional depth, empathy, and relational intelligence. Brands that activate this system do so by creating trust and emotional intimacy. Dove’s “Real Beauty” campaign is a standout here. By stepping away from narrow beauty norms and elevating vulnerability, Dove builds trust through emotional honesty—offering a space for people to feel seen and accepted.

Fisher’s core insight is that love—whether romantic or brand-driven—is not metaphorical. It’s chemical. When campaigns align with the brain’s emotional systems, they move from surface  persuasion to deep affinity.

The hidden mind (Sigmund Freud & Edward Bernays)

The most potent motivations are often the ones we don’t name. Sigmund Freud called this  domain the unconscious—a psychological terrain filled with repressed desires, instinctual  drives, and unresolved conflicts. Though much of his original theory has evolved, Freud’s  foundational idea remains central: we are not fully aware of what moves us.

His nephew, Edward Bernays, took that insight out of the clinic and into the marketplace—and  in doing so, invented modern advertising. In the 1920s, women smoking in public was taboo.

So Bernays reframed the act not as a vice, but as a symbol of emancipation. He dubbed  cigarettes “Torches of Freedom,” and orchestrated a parade where women lit up on cue as  cameras clicked. The message bypassed logic. It spoke directly to suppressed desire:  equality, defiance, freedom.  It worked. Sales soared. A new cultural norm was born.

Bernays’ brilliance wasn’t in persuasion—it was in projection. He connected the product to a  hidden narrative people longed to express. And that strategy is still relevant today. Whether it’s  a sports car promising escape, a skincare brand offering control, or a fashion line signalling power, great campaigns are mirrors. They help people see the version of themselves they crave most.

So when designing your next brand message, ask a deeper question: What unspoken desire  are we surfacing? Is it the need to be chosen? To feel significant? To break free? The more  you can reveal what’s usually hidden, the more magnetic your message becomes.

The elephant and the rider (Jonathan Haidt)

Psychologist Jonathan Haidt offers one of the most useful metaphors for how humans think: the elephant and the rider.

The elephant is our emotional, intuitive brain. It’s fast, ancient, and overwhelmingly powerful.  The rider is our rational brain—analytical, verbal, and small by comparison. Most marketers try  to speak to the rider. But the elephant is the one making most of the decisions.

The implications are enormous. If you want to change a behaviour, you don’t lead with  logic—you lead with emotion. Emotional resonance clears the path for rational justification, not  the other way around.

Steve Jobs understood this intuitively. When recruiting John Sculley from Pepsi to Apple, he  didn’t lead with numbers or market forecasts. He asked: “Do you want to sell sugar water for  the rest of your life—or do you want to come with me and change the world?”

That question wasn’t persuasive. It was cinematic. And it worked because it stirred the  elephant.

We see this in pharma ads too. Commercials rarely start with molecular science. They start  with human struggle. A woman staring out a window. A man too tired to play with his daughter.  Then comes the before-and-after arc: suffering, then relief. Only after the emotional  groundwork is laid does the science show up—usually in small print. In every great marketing story, the elephant moves first. Our job is to script for both: the  emotional instinct and the logical follow-through. But never forget who’s leading.

Conditioning and momentum (Pavlov, Skinner, Bandura)

If Freud helped us understand why we act, the behaviourists helped us understand how those actions take root and scale. These aren’t abstract theories—they’re blueprints for habit, loyalty, and word-of-mouth.

Ivan Pavlov taught us about classical conditioning—how we can learn to associate unrelated stimuli with powerful emotional responses. His dogs salivated at the sound of a bell once they’d come to expect food. In marketing, this is how brands like Coca-Cola build emotional resonance over time. The Christmas truck. The glass bottle. The holiday music. Over decades, Coca-Cola has paired its brand with togetherness, warmth, and joy. The product is soda. The memory it triggers is connection.

B.F. Skinner took things further with operant conditioning—the idea that behaviour reinforced is behaviour repeated. Loyalty programs, app streaks, referral bonuses, even TikTok’s dopamine-rich scroll: these are all engineered systems of behavioural reinforcement. When people get something in return—points, perks, recognition—they’re more likely to return. And if the reward is timed right, they’ll start seeking the experience even without the incentive. This is how habits are born.

Albert Bandura introduced the concept of observational learning. People don’t just act on their own impulses—they imitate. Especially when they see others being rewarded. This is the foundation of influencer marketing. But it’s also the psychology behind testimonials, case studies, and viral content. When we see someone like us win, we imagine ourselves in their place.

And then there’s reciprocity—perhaps the most underestimated force in consumer behaviour. Reciprocity is the idea that when someone gives us something of value, we feel compelled to return the favour. In psychology, this isn’t seen as politeness—it’s seen as social glue.

Marketers can activate this by offering meaningful value up front: an insight-rich white paper, beautifully designed sample, or a generous return policy. Reciprocity turns transactions into relationships. It buildstrust before the ask. And in a world increasingly driven by performance metrics, it reminds us that generosity is not just good ethics—it’s good strategy.

Together, these insights form a behavioural flywheel. Association creates memory. Reinforcement creates habit. Observation creates relevance. And reciprocity creates loyalty. Marketers aren’t just launching campaigns—we’re shaping the contours of behavior. And the most effective strategies are the ones that respect the science of how people learn, repeat, and reciprocate.

The future belongs to the human who understands the human

AI can predict patterns. It can generate copy. It can even mimic tone. But it cannot feel. It cannot long. It cannot suffer the sting of exclusion or the rush of belonging. And that’s where we come in. Because in the age of artificial intelligence, the marketer’s edge is not technical fluency—it’s emotional fluency. It’s the ability to connect. Not generically. Not performatively. But precisely,and at scale.

The future doesn’t belong to those who outsource their instincts to machines. It belongs to those who partner with them—who use algorithms to test hypotheses, but ground their strategies in real psychology. Those who understand that behind every impression is a nervous system. That behind every click is a cascade of chemicals. That what moves people hasn’t changed—it’s still awe, fear, desire, identity.

To be truly great in this new era is to be two things at once: technically amplified and humanly attuned. To bring the science of memory and behaviour into the brief. To build creative not just for attention, but for resonance. And to treat data not as a finish line, but as a compass. The machines are here. And they are brilliant. But the most powerful ideas will still come from those who know what it means to be alive. Who know the heartbreak of rejection and the joy of being seen. Who know what it’s like to want something—not because an algorithm said so, but because it whispered to something deep, and old, and true.

Let AI write faster. But let us be the ones who still know what’s worth saying.