
based on the book by Herb Cohen
For a long time, I avoided books about negotiations. Too often, the word conceals cold arithmetic, manipulation, the feeling that the world is a marketplace and people are commodities. But Herb Cohen's book, "You Can Negotiate Anything," turned out to be about something completely different. It's not about pressure. It's about clarity. Not about winning. About survival and dignity.
Cohen begins with a simple, almost bold thought: negotiations are always ongoing. Even when we're silent. Even when we're "not discussing." Even when we think there's no choice. If there are two people with different interests, negotiations have already begun.
This idea is unexpectedly liberating. Because then you stop feeling like a victim of circumstances. You become a participant in the process, even if the process wasn't called that.
One of Cohen's most honest theses is that the world isn't organized according to the principle of justice. In negotiations, the winner isn't the one who's right. The winner is the one with a better grasp of reality.
This isn't cynicism. It's sobriety. We often lose ground not because we're weak, but because we expect fair play where none was promised.
Negotiations aren't trials. They're spaces of power, fear, time, and information. And even if you can't see these forces, they're still at work—just without your input.
Cohen reduces any negotiation to three elements: power, time and information.
Power isn't status. It's dependence. Those who depend more are more vulnerable.
Time is pressure. Those who need it faster rush, and therefore make mistakes.
Information is an asymmetry. You don't necessarily need to know more. Sometimes it's enough for the other side to think you know more.
When I look at my life through this lens, it becomes clear that many difficult situations were not dead ends, but simply negotiations in which I did not take one of these factors into account.
One of the most powerful points of the book is the idea that power often exists only because people believe in it.
Bosses, systems, institutions, even “circumstances”—they are based not only on real power, but also on our internal agreement to consider them stronger than ourselves.
Cohen doesn't call for rebellion. He invites doubt. And doubt is the first step to freedom.
When you stop automatically accepting someone else's superiority, negotiations change. Even if on the surface everything remains the same.
We like to think that decisions are made logically. But Cohen is brutally honest: people negotiate out of fear, pride, the desire to save face, fatigue, and vanity.
Negotiations are theater, not mathematics. Pauses mean more than words. Intonation is more important than argument. Sometimes silence is stronger than any "yes."
Those who can sense the emotional landscape often win without even raising their voice.
Paradoxically, Cohen writes a lot about vulnerability, and how the desire to appear perfect often weakens one's position.
A person who can say “I need time”, “I’m not sure”, “I’m not ready” often turns out to be stronger than someone who feigns absolute confidence.
There's something very human about this. And very far from aggression.
One of the key laws of negotiations: if you have somewhere to go, you are no longer trapped.
Even a weak, temporary, imperfect alternative changes one's internal state. The absence of choice makes one controllable. The presence of choice—even in its infancy—restores one's sense of self.
Sometimes negotiations begin not with a conversation, but with creating a way