Aaron S. Bayley
A conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue.
-Truman Capote
One Saturday night when I was a 17-year-old kid in high school, I had an 8-hour telephone conversation with a good friend of mine. We talked about the things most teenage boys talk about: the girls we liked, the music we listened to, and the stuff that happened in our daily lives. The conversation ended with me talking for five minutes into a vacant receiver, unaware that my friend had fallen asleep, that is, until he began to snore like a wildebeest in a thunderstorm.
I remember the conversation distinctly; it had an ebb and flow, and there were episodes of unconfined laughter, reflections about the universe, 'would you-or-wouldn't you' morality-based questions, and Top 10 lists about the hottest girls in our school. When we thought we had exhausted all subject matters there would be momentary silence; then one of us would say something to breathe new life into the conversation, and it would veer off into another, unchartered direction. There were moments where we just clicked, where we understood each other on such a deep level and where we were so full of curiosity and wonder about the world. We were in "the zone" the way John Bonham and John Paul Jones were so often "in the pocket" during a Led Zeppelin jam. Those are the moments that seal and strengthen a friendship. But the reason that I remember the conversation is that I have always held it as the benchmark for what an ideal conversation should be: two people exchanging thoughts, memories, opinions, hopes, fears, likes and dislikes while building on each other's thoughts and asking questions to stimulate discussion. This wasn't a dialogue between two Rhodes scholars, nor was it a battle of wits between two Ivy Leaguers. In fact, I'm sure many of the conversations between average teenage boys in the Western world, if one was able to sample a handful, would be comparable in tone and subject matter to ours. Since then I have had many engaging conversations, mostly with women, but none would come close to capturing the aesthetic quality, the magic, and mystique of that fateful Saturday night.
It has been 20 years since that conversation, and what I've found startling and ironic over the past few years is that the abundance of social media and communication technology available to people does not seem to be making people better conversationalists. Text messages and especially Twitter promote a culture in which the impulse to communicate often precedes thoughtful analysis. Facebook is a social networking site where conversation can be had through instant messaging; like TV dinners, freeze-dried coffees, promises of money-back guarantees, rebates and wrinkle creams, everything in our society is instantaneous. It's put out into cyberspace with little reflection, preparation, time, or effort. I wonder whether the race to acquire the latest technological gadgets is affecting the way people communicate with each other--whether smartphones are making people dumber.
And what about our conversations? How are these marvels of the digital world mediating our thoughts and opinions? With so much knowledge available at our fingertips, are we still able to have meaningful and meandering conversations without stopping to check our BlackBerry or fantasy sports scores, or verify information on Wikipedia, or launch a Google search to prove whether something is fact or fiction? Are we permanently plugged in? And even worse, do we come off as masters of all knowledge because of our instant access to information, stealing quotations found on the Internet and pasting them as our Facebook statuses in order to appear philosophical?
When I was in my early 20s, I read Tad Szulc's biography of Fidel Castro and learned that the loquacious Cuban leader would often suppress the need to interject when another person was speaking to him, because he came to understand that when he was formulating in his mind what he wanted to say next, he wasn't listening to the person talk, he was just hearing. On the other hand, if you are listening to a person talk, you are being respectful of what that person is trying to communicate without giving in to the impulse of the moment.
I took this lesson to heart and became someone, so I've been told, that can hold a conversation quite well. I think that conversation is an art, that children--and even adults (especially adults)--should be taught how to speak to each other, how to converse (not "conversate"), think critically and have meaningful dialogues. I know people who are quite skilled at retaining information and interesting bits of knowledge, but when it comes to having a conversation they are hopeless. Instead, they hijack the conversation or subtly try to edge it towards their area of expertise or desired topic so that they can dominate and impress with their vast array of knowledge. But this isn't conversation; this is preaching from a pulpit. These kind of people are easy to identify because they never ask questions. They never ask questions because they don't really care about anyone else's opinions: they have all the answers. What they really want is to hear themselves talk.
If we are to have meaningful conversations with each other, we need to slow down, first of all. It has been 20 years since that conversation, and what I've found startling and ironic over the past few years is that the abundance of social media and communication technology available to people does not seem to be making people better conversationalists. Text messages and especially Twitter promote a culture in which the impulse to communicate often precedes thoughtful analysis. Facebook is a social networking site where conversation can be had through instant messaging; like TV dinners, freeze-dried coffees, promises of money-back guarantees, rebates and wrinkle creams, everything in our society is instantaneous. It's put out into cyberspace with little reflection, preparation time or effort. I wonder whether the race to acquire the latest technological gadgets is affecting the way people communicate with each other--whether smartphones are making people dumber.
And what about our conversations? How are these marvels of the digital world mediating our thoughts and opinions? With so much knowledge available at our fingertips, are we still able to have meaningful and meandering conversations without stopping to check our BlackBerry or Fantasy hockey scores, or verify information on Wikipedia, or do a Google search to prove whether something is fact or fiction? Are we permanently plugged in? And even worse, do we come off as masters of all knowledge because of our instant access to information, stealing quotations found on the Internet and pasting them as our Facebook statuses in order to appear philosophical?
When I was in my early 20s, I read Tad Szulc's biography of Fidel Castro and learned that the loquacious Cuban leader would often suppress the need to interject when another person was speaking to him, because he came to understand that when he was formulating in his mind what he wanted to say next, he wasn't listening to the person talk, he was just hearing. On the other hand, if you are listening to a person talk, you are being respectful of what that person is trying to communicate without giving in to the impulse of the moment.
I took this lesson to heart and became someone, so I've been told, that can hold a conversation quite well. I think that conversation is an art, that children--and even adults (especially adults)--should be taught how to speak to each other, how to converse (not "conversate"), think critically and have meaningful dialogues. I know people who are quite skilled at retaining information and interesting bits of knowledge, but when it comes to having a conversation they can't. Instead, they hijack the conversation or subtly try to edge it towards their area of expertise or desired topic so that they can dominate and impress with their vast array of knowledge. But this isn't conversation; this is preaching from a pulpit. These kind of people are easy to identify because they never ask questions. They never ask questions because they don't really care about anyone else's opinions: they have all the answers. What they really want is to hear themselves talk.
If we are to have meaningful conversations with each other, we need to slow down, first of all. We need to show a genuine interest in and respect toward the other person's thoughts and opinions. Then we need to learn, or re-learn, how to value each other's perspectives and ask meaningful, searching questions that demonstrate our attempt at understanding. Not every conversation needs to be a philosophical or dialectical exchange, but it should always be stimulating, engaging, and enriching.
By turning off our phones and making frequent eye contact we can reassure the person speaking to us that they are not just talking themselves. Because without someone to engage in genuine, heartfelt communication with, the world becomes a lonely place.