What Happened to Conversation?

Celeste Headlee's excellent book, "We Need to Talk," got me thinking about how to be a better conversationalist.

"The best conversations are unplugged." This observation comes from Celeste Headlee, an American radio announcer and author of "We Need to Talk: How to Have Conversations That Matter." I devoured her book last weekend, surprised I'd never heard of it before, based on all the reading I've done on related topics. When I finished, the library book was filled with sticky notes marking standout quotes and ideas.

The book felt like a satisfying articulation of thoughts I've had in recent years. I wanted to share some of my reactions to it, since spoken conversation is, arguably, one of the most analog functions we have as humans. Conversation is powerful; it sets us apart from other animals, this ability to manipulate words to convey facts and emotions. And yet, we underestimate its ability to transform us and the world we live in. Sometimes it feels like we've got this magic spell that could fix so much of what's wrong—but we refuse to use it.

I believe strongly in the power of conversation to develop relationships, forge connections, convey respect, and improve understanding. I am also deeply concerned about how few real conversations occur these days—both on a day-to-day basis, between family members, friends, and strangers, and on a much bigger scale, domestically and globally.

For all this talk of having "national conversations" about hot-button issues, no one is really talking about anything. As Headlee puts it, everyone is so busy shouting their own opinions and blocking anyone with a different viewpoint that nothing's being discussed. People are reluctant, even terrified, to talk to each other. No one is listening intently or carefully with a desire to comprehend the other side.

It makes me think of a brief exchange I overheard between two family members at Christmas. One person expressed support for the Conservative party leader Pierre Poilievre, while the other expressed revulsion. The two politely "agreed to disagree" and changed the topic immediately. There was a sense that discussing it would lead to argument and emotion and should therefore be avoided; they weren't wrong, but it struck me as a lost opportunity. Why couldn’t they both listen and share and come away from the conversation, thinking, "Hm, that's interesting. I hadn't thought of that before."

A Lack of Skills

Perhaps the problem stems from people not knowing how to talk to each other. While we're born with the ability to talk and form words, the back-and-forth style required for conversation has to be developed with practice and careful thought. Societally, there's too much emphasis put on winning an argument, on proving a point, on convincing others of a different viewpoint, and not enough put on simply listening and asking, "What can this person teach me today?" It's also OK not to have an opinion at all.

Headlee talked about the "narcissistic conversation" style that dominates human interactions, where 60% of the average exchange consists of talking about ourselves and most of the remaining time is spent talking about a third person—not the person we're talking to! People don't ask enough questions of each other, despite questions' remarkable ability to crack even the toughest of individuals and to indicate concern and interest.

My brother was the first to point out the dearth of questions. He'd attended a party with me and later observed that most of the verbal exchanges consisted of educated, eloquent people taking turns making statements.

Shortly after, a close friend of mine described spending an afternoon with her husband's extended family. She said no one asked her a single question. "It's not that I need to talk about myself, but sometimes a person just wants to feel seen," she lamented over the phone. (This is the same woman who once told me that nothing excites her more than talking to a stranger and discovering the entire hidden world that lives within them—a statement that forever changed my view of random conversations.)

On a practical level, I suspect we're often too engaged with our digital devices to have meaningful conversations. Part of that is pure distraction, but we're also using them to hide. Headlee writes that we overuse texts and emails because we want to connect with others, but remain in control—"not too close, not too far, just right." She cites MIT psychologist Sherry Turkle, who calls this the Goldilocks effect. Face-to-face conversations are scary. You can't get out of them that easily. You don't have time to edit or delete responses.

New Goals

I came away from the book with a desire to get better at conversation. The biggest takeaway for me is Headlee's advice to "be present or be gone." This is something I struggle with. If you cannot commit fully to a conversation, she says, even the brief, informal ones, then don't have it. Excuse yourself with an apology. Cite mental overload or whatever. When you do talk to someone, give them your full attention.

When approaching tough conversations, I'll also remember to ask myself, "What if the other person is right?" It's so easy to forget how viewpoints and opinions are shaped by experiences and circumstances that I'll never have or understand. Instead of feeling indignant, I will strive to say, "Tell me why you think that."

These are crucial lessons for kids, too. I've always insisted that my children engage with adults, respond to questions promptly and clearly, make eye contact, and ask questions in return—but some people have insinuated that that's archaic etiquette, that it's asking too much of them. After reading this book, however, I'm more certain than ever that teaching them how to "sustain confident, coherent conversation" in real life could be one of the most important skills they ever learn. It might actually make the world a better place.