Beyond the Stress-Performance Curve

Yerkes-Dodson: The Popular Curve That Won’t Die

If you spend time on LinkedIn or management forums, you’ve likely seen the famous inverted-U graph of the Yerkes-Dodson law (YDL). It’s the idea that performance improves with stress (or “arousal”) up to an optimal point, after which too much stress causes performance to plummet. It’s an appealingly simple concept, and it remains popular despite strong empirical evidence against it.

Researchers have pointed out that the Yerkes-Dodson law has “no basis in empirical fact” in modern workplaces. In a 2003 review of existing research, scholars noted that misinterpreting Yerkes-Dodson (along with Hans Selye’s 1940s stress ideas) led to inappropriate stress management practices in organizations (Le Fevre et al., 2003).

More recently, Corbett (2015) traced how this “law” turned into managerial folklore, concluding bluntly:

“Analysis reveals that the YDL has no basis in empirical fact but continues to inform managerial practices which seek to increase or maintain, rather than minimise, levels of stress in the workplace as a means to enhance employee performance”

In other words, many leaders still believe some added stress will boost output, a notion carried forward more by tradition than by science.

Why does the Yerkes-Dodson curve refuse to die? One reason is that it feels true. We’ve all had days where a bit of pressure sharpened our focus, and other times where stress overload made us crumble. The inverted-U resonates with our intuitive experience. It offers a tidy explanation: too little stress = boredom, too much = burnout, just right = peak performance.

In a fast-paced business culture, that message is seductive. It tells managers what they want to hear, that they can dial up the pressure to an “optimal” level and get results. And it tells employees that feeling some stress is not only normal but necessary. The theory persists in pop management discourse because it’s simple, convenient, and seemingly backed by a tidy graph. As one psychologist quipped, the Yerkes-Dodson idea has morphed “from law to folklore,” stretched far beyond its original evidence.

Yet in the last few decades, research keeps undercutting this simplistic model. Real human performance doesn’t follow a one-size-fits-all curve. For example, a well-known study examined stress and health in 28,000 adults (Keller et al., 2012). The researchers found that it wasn’t just the amount of stress that mattered, it was how people perceived their stress. High stress was associated with some negative outcomes, but high stress combined with the belief that stress was harming one’s health was associated with a 43% increase in risk of premature death. In contrast, those under high stress who didn’t view it as very harmful did not show the same heightened risk. In short, what we believe about stress can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. A universal curve can’t explain that finding, but it points to something more personal and subjective at work.

So, before we accept or reject the Yerkes-Dodson graph as gospel, we need to step back and consider a deeper question:

What really determines whether stress helps or hinders performance?

To answer that, we have to look beyond the curve and into the mental and cultural space between stimulus and response.

Between Stimulus and Response: The Space of Personal Agency

Austrian psychologist Viktor Frankl (1946), who survived the horrors of a Nazi concentration camp, famously observed:

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” 

Frankl’s insight is a potent reminder that stress is not automatic, it’s not simply out there in the world, happening to us with predetermined effects. There’s a space in which we interpret and respond to what happens. That space is subjective and deeply personal.

In the context of work and performance, Frankl’s “space between” means that two people can face the same external pressure, such as a tight deadline, a demanding client, a sudden crisis, and experience it very differently. One might feel challenged and energized, while the other feels overwhelmed and anxious. The stressor (the external demand) can be identical, but the stress response (the internal experience) varies widely. Why? Because we each appraise the situation through our own lens: our mindset, past experiences, resources, and sense of control all influence whether a given pressure cooker becomes a thrilling challenge or a threat.

Psychologists often distinguish between stressors (external events or demands) and strain (our internal stress experience). In everyday conversation we just say “stress,” but it’s useful to separate the two. The stressor is the stimulus, e.g.,a project overload, or an economic downturn, and strain is the response, our mental, emotional, and physiological reaction.

Modern stress research (following pioneers like Lazarus) shows that strain is produced not directly by the stressor itself, but by how we perceive the stressor relative to our resources. Do I have what I need to cope with this? Is this an opportunity to learn, or a disaster in the making? These appraisal questions happen in a split-second, often unconsciously, yet they determine whether what we’re feeling is eustress (positive, growth-oriented stress) or distress (negative, harmful stress).

We all intuitively know this. Think about public speaking: one person loves the adrenaline and views it as “exciting,” while another with glossophobia might experience sheer “panic.” Same podium, wildly different feelings. The difference lies in that subjective space of interpretation. Notably, our sense of agency plays a huge role. If we feel we can influence a situation, marshal the resources, adapt, and take action, a high-pressure situation can feel manageable or even motivating. If we feel powerless, the same situation quickly becomes debilitating.

This is why the Yerkes-Dodson law, in its simplistic form, falters. There is no single optimal stress level for everyone, or even for one person across all tasks. Context matters. Individual differences matter. Our brains and bodies don’t operate like machines that you can tune to “Level 7 stress = best output.” Performance is a dynamic dance between challenge and skill, between demand and coping ability. Too little challenge can indeed cause stagnation, and too much challenge can cause breakdown, but that sweet spot isn’t a fixed point on a universal curve. It’s a moving target that depends on the person and the situation.

Crucially, how we frame the stress makes all the difference. Recall that University of Wisconsin study: those who believed “stress is harmful and I’m very stressed” had far worse outcomes (Keller et al., 2012). This doesn’t mean stress is never harmful, but it means our mindset about stress can amplify or buffer its effects. In other research, people who are taught to view their stress responses (like a racing heart before a big meeting) as useful energy for performance actually perform better and feel better than those who catastrophize those feelings.

In other words, if you change the story you tell yourself about stress, you change its impact. That “space between stimulus and response,” as Frankl put it, is where we insert meaning. It’s where a leader can either say, “This pressure will make us stronger, we’ve got this,” or “This pressure is too much, we’re doomed.” The same stressful event can become either a motivating challenge or a destructive threat, depending on that narrative.

So perhaps we need to redefine what we mean by “stress.” Instead of seeing it as an external quantity to crank up or down, we can think of stress as an experience, one that is inherently subjective. It’s the felt sense of demand vs. capacity. This more nuanced view acknowledges that people vary. For one person, a busy 10-hour workday might register as invigorating, while for another it’s exhausting. For one team, a sales competition is fun; for another, it’s demoralizing.

The upshot for leaders: you can’t assume a universal curve for your people. You have to know your team, understand their individual thresholds, and, most importantly, shape the meaning around workplace pressures. That’s where true performance optimization lies, not in hitting some mythical midpoint on a graph, but in coaching the appraisal and supporting the response.

Stressors vs. Strain: Reframing Stress in High-Pressure Industries

In high-pressure industries (e.g., hospitality, banking, construction, or consulting), there’s no shortage of external stressors. Deadlines, client expectations, regulatory demands, competition, crises. The list never ends. It’s easy to slip into thinking of “stress” as an inevitable byproduct of these external factors. But as we’ve seen, stress is not just something that happens to people; it’s something that people experience and interpret. This distinction matters for strategy and leadership.

Let’s clarify the terminology: a stressor is external, e.g., the night shift your hotel staff has to pull because of a surge in guests, or the abrupt change in project specs for your engineering team. Strain (experienced stress) is internal and is how those staff members feel and react to the demands placed on them.

In common usage, we often say “this job is stressful” (speaking about the stressors) or “I’m stressed” (speaking about the strain). We blur the two, and that’s okay in casual talk, but from a management perspective, it’s useful to separate them. Why? Because as leaders, you often can’t eliminate all the stressors, some pressure comes with the territory, but you can profoundly influence the strain by shaping how people handle those stressors.

Think of it this way: stressor = the challenge, strain = our relationship to that challenge. Forward-thinking organizations are learning to manage that relationship, not just the external tasks. They focus on building resilience and cognitive agility in their people, rather than naively imposing the same level of stress on everyone.

A demanding project in a construction firm, for example, might be framed by a project manager as “an exciting opportunity to showcase our skills.” The stressor remains (tight deadline, complex work), but a positive, team-oriented approach may help mitigate the strain. Conversely, a manager who says nothing except “this is a high-pressure project, if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen” is virtually inviting destructive strain; the stressor might be the same, but now it’s colored with fear and isolation.

Organizational psychologists distinguish between “challenge stressors” (pressures that people tend to perceive as growth-oriented and within their coping abilities) and “hindrance stressors” (pressures that feel unnecessary, unmanageable, or pointlessly bureaucratic). Challenge stressors, like taking on more responsibility or learning a new skill under pressure, can be experienced as eustress (good stress) because we see them as meaningful and within reach.

Hindrance stressors, like red tape, office politics, or unrealistic demands, are more likely to be distress, because they provoke a sense of helplessness or pointlessness. The key insight is that it’s not inherently the amount of pressure alone, but how people appraise that pressure. If it’s aligned with a purpose, if they feel some control or support, and if they see a light at the end of the tunnel, it’s a very different beast than stress which feels arbitrary or endless.

Leaders in high-pressure fields can take this to heart. Instead of asking “How much stress is optimal for my team?” (There is no magic number). It’s more effective to ask, “How is my team experiencing the demands we face, and how can I improve that experience?” This might mean adjusting workloads, yes, but it also means adjusting the narrative and environment around those workloads.

Are we celebrating progress and framing the challenge as meaningful? Are we giving people autonomy to tackle problems in their own way (enhancing their sense of control)? Are we providing resources and recovery time so they don’t feel trapped? These factors greatly influence whether stressors turn into healthy stretch experiences or unhealthy strain.

It’s telling that even marketing scholars have noted the importance of subjective experience in value creation. Morris Holbrook (1999), for instance, emphasized that customer value is inherently subjective and context-dependent because it’s shaped by individual preferences and comparisons, not just objective features.

What’s “valuable” to one customer might be worthless to another, depending on their personal context. The same principle applies internally to employees: the “value” of a high-pressure assignment (in terms of growth or motivation) is subjective. One person’s exhilarating challenge is another’s nightmare.

As anthropologist David Graeber (2001) reminds us, value in human societies is created through relationships and action; what we deem important or motivating emerges from social context and shared meaning, not in isolation. If an idea or practice (like the Yerkes-Dodson curve) becomes widespread, it’s because we collectively reinforce it as valuable or true. In the workplace, how people collectively frame stress (“badge of honor” vs “necessary evil” vs “sign of failure”) will shape their experience of it. This is a cultural issue, not just an individual one.

In many Hawaii-based industries, say a busy Honolulu hotel or a high-stakes financial services firm, there’s a cultural narrative about hard work and poise under pressure. Hawai’i also has a unique cultural emphasis on aloha and community, which can influence stress perceptions. Leaders here can leverage those positive cultural values. For example, a consulting team facing a tough project deadline might emphasize that “we’re all in this together” (ohana), turning a stressful crunch into a bonding experience rather than a lonely grind. By contrast, if each consultant feels they must silently “take it” to look tough, the stress becomes isolating. The same external stressor (big deadline) can yield team camaraderie or burnout and turnover, depending on the framing and support.

The bottom line is, we must reframe stress from an external force to an internal experience, one that leaders can help shape. This reframing doesn’t mean denying that stressors exist; it means acknowledging that our subjective lens is powerful. And that gives us a point of leverage: by changing the lens, we change the outcome. This is where effective leadership comes into play, transforming the way stress is perceived and managed on the ground.

Memes, Myths, and Why Bad Ideas Stick Around

If the Yerkes-Dodson law isn’t well-supported by evidence, why does it remain in our collective toolkit? Part of the answer lies in the realm of memes, not the internet memes of cats and catchphrases, but the original concept coined by biologist Richard Dawkins (1976). In Dawkins’ sense, a meme is a unit of culture, an idea, behavior, or style that spreads from person to person. Memes propagate through imitation and social transmission, much like genes propagate through reproduction. Crucially, memes do not spread because they are “true” or “right,” but because they are good at spreading.

In cultural evolution, an idea that is catchy, simple, and emotionally resonant can go viral even if it’s inaccurate or harmful. As Dawkins and others note, some memes survive and thrive “even when they prove to be detrimental to the welfare of their hosts.” (Distin, 2007). In other words, a concept can be memetically successful (widely replicated) without being scientifically sound, it just needs to push the right buttons in our minds.

The Yerkes-Dodson curve is a textbook case of a “selfish meme.” It has all the qualities of a successful meme in management culture: it’s visual (that inverted U graph sticks in your memory), it’s simpler than reality (always a plus for virality), and it offers a sort of comforting justification (it tells leaders that some stress is not just okay but good, a convenient message for hard-charging industries).

From academic journals in 1908, the idea mutated and spread over the decades; by the 1950s, psychologists like Hebb had grafted “arousal” onto it and drawn that neat inverted U. Textbooks ran with it. Managers learned it in business school. It became a staple in PowerPoint presentations about performance.

In memetic terms, the Yerkes-Dodson law adapted to our culture, it broadened from a narrowly defined mouse experiment into a generalized law about motivation. Each retelling made it seem more universally applicable than it ever really was. As one historian noted, developments in psychology “changed and broadened” the law far beyond what Yerkes and Dodson could have imagined. In short, the idea took on a life of its own.

Memetic success often beats accuracy in the short run. If an idea resonates with our experiences and fills a cultural need, it will spread. In the business world, there is a strong cultural narrative that a bit of stress is good for you, akin to that old saying “pressure makes diamonds.” Yerkes-Dodson conveniently gave this narrative a scientific veneer, which made it even stickier.

It’s much easier to throw up a quick graph and say “see, we need to find the sweet spot of stress” than to delve into the messy, person-specific reality of stress responses. The graph became a management meme that simplifies a complex human phenomenon into a digestible rule of thumb. Busy executives and HR trainers, not surprisingly, latched on to it.

We can also view this through the lens of what business scholars Vargo and Lusch call dominant logic. Dominant logic is essentially the prevailing mindset or framework that organizations use to make decisions. For much of the 20th century, the dominant logic in management treated employees a bit like components in a machine, interchangeable, to be optimized for efficiency.

The Yerkes-Dodson concept fit nicely into that old logic: it implies there’s an optimal setting on the dial for all humans (with maybe minor variation for task difficulty). It treats people as if they have a uniform response curve that a manager can tweak. That industrial-age mentality is thankfully fading, replaced by a logic that values human variability, co-creation, and well-being. But old memes die hard.

The notion that “we can toughen people up with stress and get more out of them” is still embedded in many company cultures, even implicitly. It’s reinforced by macho business anecdotes, high-pressure Wall Street lore, and the survivorship bias of looking at successful people who “handled the heat.” All of this makes the Yerkes-Dodson meme hard to dislodge, it’s surrounded by what cognitive scientists might call a memeplex (a cluster of mutually reinforcing ideas about work and toughness).

To break the spell of a flawed meme, it’s not enough to present the data (though that’s a start). We have to offer a better narrative, a new meme if you will, that can take its place. One reason the stress-performance myth persists is that it contains a grain of truth, of course too little challenge can lead to underperformance, and too much challenge can overwhelm. But the false part is the assumption of a universal, one-dimensional curve.

So the new narrative has to be more nuanced yet still compelling. It might sound like: “Yes, people need challenge to grow, but the right level of challenge is not a single curve, it’s personal. The best leaders tune in to their people individually and create conditions for positive challenge and recovery, not constant pressure.” That narrative acknowledges the intuitive appeal of the old idea but reframes it in a more human-centric, evidence-based way.

Interestingly, the meme perspective can also spur some humility in leadership. It prompts us to ask, “What other ideas are we clinging to just because they’re cultural habits, not because they’re true?” David Graeber argued that much of what we treat as economic or managerial “truth” is actually propped up by social convention and shared belief. The Yerkes-Dodson law became a shared belief, a meme, in managerial folklore. Recognizing that frees us to question it without feeling sacrilegious. It’s not that everyone teaching it was foolish; it’s that the idea was memetically contagious. Now we have the opportunity to update our collective mental toolkit with ideas that are not only catchy but also accurate and humane.

Leading Beyond the Curve: Toward Flexibility, Meaning, and Recovery

Abandoning the simplistic comfort of the Yerkes-Dodson curve doesn’t mean we’re left rudderless. On the contrary, it opens the door to more effective and human-centered leadership strategies for managing stress and performance. Here are a few guiding principles for leaders, especially those in high-pressure fields, to foster high performance beyond one-size-fits-all models:

1. Prioritize Psychological Flexibility

Psychological flexibility is the ability to adapt one’s thinking and actions in the face of challenges, to stay open to experience and aligned with one’s values. Instead of trying to keep everyone at some mythical “optimal stress” level, leaders can cultivate an environment that encourages flexibility. This means normalizing that people will respond to stressors differently, and that’s okay. Create a culture where employees feel safe to say “I need help” or “I need a breather,” and where adjusting how a task gets done is seen as smart adaptation, not weakness.

When people feel they have the freedom to manage their response, to take that “space” Frankl talked about and use it constructively, they perform better. They’re not expending energy putting on a brave face or fitting into a mold; they’re actively coping and problem-solving. As Frankl taught, in our response lies our growth and freedom. Leaders can grant employees that freedom by avoiding micromanagement and instead supporting autonomy and creative problem solving. A banking team facing a regulatory crunch, for example, might allow flexible hours or remote work to help staff manage the load in the way that best suits them. By giving teams latitude to adjust and self-regulate their stress response, you often get more sustained performance than by enforcing rigid pressure across the board.

2. Infuse Work with Meaning (Self-Transcendence)

People can endure a great deal of stress if they find meaning in it, if it connects to something bigger than themselves. In Viktor Frankl’s words, “Those who have a ‘why’ to live can bear with almost any ‘how’.” In organizational terms, this translates to self-transcendent goals. Self-transcendence means focusing on purposes beyond one’s ego or immediate self-interest, such as serving the community, contributing to a team's success, or advancing a valued cause.

Research (including my own) suggests that a self-transcendence mindset injects renewal into systems, akin to negative entropy (negentropy) in living systems. When a firm pursues goals like employee development, community wellbeing, or sustainability, it effectively adds energy and coherence back into the organization, countering the wearing down (entropy) that pure profit-chasing or incessant pressure can create. For leaders, the lesson is to consistently connect the work to a meaningful mission.

A construction manager, for example, might remind crews that “we’re not just building a hotel, we’re building a community hub that will host memories for families”. A hospital administrator might highlight how a quality improvement project ties to the hospital’s healing mission, not just cost savings. These aren’t fluff; they’re the why that can transform stress into purpose-driven effort.

When people see a meaningful why, the inevitable stressors feel more like challenges to embrace rather than pointless pains to avoid. This taps into self-transcendent motivation, which tends to be more sustainable. Importantly, self-transcendence in leadership also means modeling a focus on collective good and long-term values, rather than treating employees as merely means to an end. It’s about creating a culture where helping each other and finding purpose is valued, which can buffer the strains of even very intense work.

3. Balance the System, Think Both Short-Term and Long-Term

In any organization, there’s a tension between short-term performance (hitting today’s targets) and long-term sustainability (avoiding burnout, maintaining skills, preserving reputation). A purely self-enhancement-driven logic, all about immediate achievement, competition, and individual gain, can yield quick wins, but it often does so by consuming resources and goodwill at a faster rate than they’re replenished.

It’s like running machinery at overcapacity; you get a burst of output followed by a breakdown. This is the entropy outcome: the system starts to fall apart. We see it in companies that push employees relentlessly to meet quarterly numbers only to suffer high turnover, mistakes, and reputational damage (a form of organizational entropy). On the other hand, a purely long-term, people-first approach without any drive for results might keep everyone happy but could fail in the market, too much negentropy focus without competitive edge can stagnate.

The key is balance. Think of it as managing an ecosystem: you need periods of exploitation (harvesting results, pushing hard) and periods of regeneration (rest, training, strategic reflection). Research in service science and systems theory suggests that organizations thrive when they balance these forces, when they achieve a synergy between the efficient drive of self-enhancement and the renewing principles of self-transcendence.

As a leader, this might mean, for instance, structuring projects with intense sprints followed by genuine downtime. It means celebrating not just the person who stayed till midnight (short-term heroics) but also the person who documents processes for the team or mentors a junior colleague (long-term capacity building). It means keeping an eye on team energy levels like a vital metric, just as important as the financial metrics.

After a big push (say, end-of-year audits in finance or peak tourist season in hotels), smart leaders ensure there’s an “off-season” or at least a period of lighter load to recalibrate. They invest in training, team off-sites, maybe even sabbaticals or extended breaks. By doing so, they replenish the system’s energy, injecting negentropy, so that people come back creative and ready for the next challenge. It’s not fluffy stuff; it’s a strategic imperative if you want to avoid the heavy costs of chronic stress (absenteeism, errors, healthcare costs, attrition).

4. Co-Create a Supportive Culture (Don’t Mandate Resilience)

Too often, organizations respond to stress and burnout by imploring employees to be more “resilient”, sometimes rolling out resilience workshops or catchy slogans, yet without changing the environment that is causing the strain. This is backwards. Resilience is not an individual trait you can enforce by decree, nor is it a uniform quality everyone should display on command.

True resilience arises from a supportive environment where people have the tools and trust to get through adversity together. It’s a collective property as much as an individual one. As the Service-Dominant Logic of Vargo and Lusch (2004) highlights, value is co-created by people in interaction, not delivered one-way.

Similarly, resilience (and performance) is co-created by the interplay of individual efforts and organizational support. Leaders should focus on creating conditions that allow resilience to emerge naturally. This includes: open communication (so problems can be surfaced early, not left to fester), mutual trust (so folks know they won’t be punished for admitting struggle or taking smart risks), and adequate resources (so that people aren’t chronically stretched thinner than is humanly possible).

It also means as a leader, listening and involving your team in solutions. If a particular process is causing harmful stress, the people doing the work often have the best ideas for how to fix it, involve them in co-creating a better way. A consulting firm leader, for instance, might work with their junior consultants to redesign how projects are staffed or how weekend work is handled, rather than just saying “tough it out” year after year.

This way, resilience becomes a shared outcome, born of agency and community rather than a top-down mandate. When employees feel heard and see that leadership is willing to adjust structures (not just tell people to yoga their way out of stress), it builds genuine goodwill and adaptive capacity. They’re more likely to go the extra mile when it truly matters, because they know the organization has their back when it counts.

In implementing these principles, it’s worth invoking Frankl one more time. He taught that even when we cannot change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves, to choose our response. Leaders are in a position to help people find that choice point, that space where they can respond with clarity instead of just react. By moving beyond the oversimplified Yerkes-Dodson mentality, leaders can embrace a richer role: not as stress-dial operators, but as context creators, meaning makers, and guides. The opportunity is to foster what psychologists call psychological safety and flexibility, while still pursuing ambitious goals.

Imagine a workplace where challenges are meaningful, support is abundant, and recovery is respected as part of the cycle of high performance. In such an environment, you won’t need a folk theory to motivate people, they will be energized because the conditions allow them to thrive. Hawaii’s professional community, with its emphasis on balance, community, and respect (think of the island value of pono, alignment and goodness), is well suited to lead this shift. We can move away from outdated “law of stress” thinking and towards a human-centric approach that sees each employee as a whole person with unique strengths and needs.

The Yerkes-Dodson curve had its moment in the spotlight, but it turns out the real story of stress and performance is far more interesting. It’s a story of individual journeys, of teams that lift each other up, and of leaders who understand that pressure doesn’t automatically make diamonds; people do when given the right support. As Viktor Frankl might say, there is freedom in recognizing that space to choose our response. In that space lies not just our growth and freedom as individuals, but the growth and freedom of our organizations as well. By claiming that space, with awareness, empathy, and creativity, today’s leaders can help their teams not just perform, but truly flourish, no matter what pressures come their way.

Sources

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• Dawkins, R. (1976). The selfish gene. University Press.

• Distin, K. (2007). The selfish meme. Cambridge University Press - MUA.

• Frankl, V. E. (1946–1985). Man’s search for meaning (Rev. and updated.). Pocket Books.

• Graeber, D. (2001). Toward an anthropological theory of value: The false coin of our own dreams. Palgrave.

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• Le Fevre, M., Matheny, J., & Kolt, G. S. (2003). Eustress, distress, and interpretation in occupational stress. Journal of Managerial Psychology, 18(7), 726–744. https://doi.org/10.1108/02683940310502412

• Vargo, S. L., & Lusch, R. F. (2004). Evolving to a new dominant logic for marketing. Journal of Marketing, 68(1), 1–17. https://doi.org/10.1509/jmkg.68.1.1.24036