Are you listening?

There are all these groups on MeetUp. People meet up, the clue's in the name, and discuss their shared interests, practice their shared hobbies, attend films together and the like. As the ones I fancied weren't local, I attended just once - a Philosophy in Pubs talk in Oxford. It was good, but a long journey. Too long. And I already drive too much.

Now, they're online and I'm a regular attendee. The latest, actually this one was a different group, Philosophy in the Park, was a talk and then a Q&A on listening.

I'd like to run the whole transcript here, but it was a forty-five minute long talk and that might test the patience of even my most (only) dedicated reader. So I'll just pull out some of the highlights.

The speaker, whom I shall call John, for that is his name, and who said he was happy for me to write about this in some detail, started by saying that to listen is to show respect for the other. Indeed, I'd argue that being properly listened to is probably the paramount and most trustworthy signal of being respected as a person by the other. To listen is to be open to the strangeness, the otherness of the other. To be willing to learn and adapt. To make the effort to understand. Because what we hear may be contrary to what we think or believe, by open listening we are allowing ourselves to be challenged and surprised. We are showing vulnerability. This is what makes us trustworthy to the other. It's like we have put down our weapons, left the defensive walls of our citadel, and are showing that will are not out to attack, criticise or condemn. Only by being open in this way can we earn the trust of the other. Only in this way will they feel safe enough to open their hearts. By not listening, we cut communication lines from both sides.

These days, or not so much these days, but in the pre-lapsarian world, B.C.' before coronavirus, people are (were) always in a rush. 'I don't have time to talk,' they say. What they mean is, 'I don't have time to listen.' Listening takes effort. We may have to put up with boredom, suppress disagreement, resist the temptation to be distracted by our thoughts and needs and wants and urges. It's hard work. And what do we get out of it? We want to speak.

John went on to cover some of the barriers to listening. In close relationships, our curiosity is often blunted. And, worse, we assume that we already know what the other thinks, what they will say. We respond to our assumptions of their point of view, not to what they are actually expressing. This clearly damages a relationship. It ossifies it. Prevents growth. Communication of any truth or depth is inhibited.

Often we listen at a superficial level. We are predicting the course of the conversation and are preparing what we are going to say next. If we are not actually interested in the other, they are less likely to be honest. People don't want to be judged, criticised, not heard. They want to be understood. Our assumptions about the content of their utterances are usually based on faulty impressions of who they are and what they believe. Our biases and stereotypes, the habit of putting people in categories, means we make knee-jerk responses based on what we think they are saying, not what is actually being said. Seldom, if ever, do we fully appreciate what constitutes reality for the other. And if we don't listen, don't show them enough respect to let them explain, we get no closer. In addition, such knee-jerk responses incline the other to shut up rather than open up.

We are also - especially in Western societies - afraid of silences. We jump in as soon as they catch breath, not allowing them to pause to gather their ideas. We don't want to pause to think ourselves before we respond (plus we are scared that we'll lose our opportunity to have our say, which we feel is far more important than what the other has to say - they, after all, are misguided, misinformed or don't understand). So we are planning our response while they are talking. Through thinking we fail in our listening. This pre-planning and rehearsing feels crucial because we are terrified of embarrassment - terrified of being misunderstood, taken out of context. Of course we are: we do not trust that the other will be listening generously, with respect and an open mind.

While we often find comfort in shared values, we learn and develop understanding where our values diverge.

It can be very hard to listen to those who state opposing views to ours. There can be an intense and unconscious physiological response - arm-crossing, eye-rolling, teeth-clenching, rapid heart rate and breathing. In fact, we respond in the same way as if there were a physical danger threatening us. Our ego, not our body, is under attack. We will want to contest the view, win the argument. We will judge the other as an enemy - a 'bad' person. In this state, there's a double-whammy: we are less psychologically capable of paying attention and we are also fired up to retaliate.

People may be, said John, afraid of listening to opposing views in case they lose sight of what matters to them. In case they are tempted over to the dark side. That's why we like news media that supports our world view, why we jump in to disagree before hearing people out. Good listeners, he claimed, have negative capability. I've mentioned this before. It was a term coined by the poet John Keats. Those who have this trait are 'capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.' A good listener can find space for opposing views and, more importantly, can see that there is always more to a story than what appears on the surface. There is nuance, shades of grey. To listen does not mean that we agree: it means that we accept the legitimacy of the other's views. We are allowing them to have their own subjectivity. Surely a basic allowance! What's more, we are realising that, mirabile dictu, we might actually learn something, that our understanding can always be improved. (I've looked at some of this before in previous posts - Changing minds and Clarity.)

On the other hand, the desire to help can also shut people down. The belief that we have the answer, that this is what the other 'should think' or 'should do', profoundly disempowers the speaker. Firstly, they may just want to be heard. Secondly, we may know what would be right for us in their situation, but can we be categorically sure that we know what is right for them? In the process of listening, and asking open questions - not the kind of questions that lead the person down the path we advocate (such as 'Have you considered leaving him?) - the other may come to understand themselves better and see their own solutions. That is not available to them if we jump in with our own assumptions.

One thing John said that really struck home was that 'every input degrades attention.' If we're driving and listening, checking Twitter and listening, thinking and listening, planning and listening we are not listening well.

Good listeners help others to find their voice because they create a place of trust in which the speaker can be honest in her self-expression. That takes time to build. And if we never listen well, we will never get that precious glimpse into the subjectivity of the other upon which real communication and understanding is founded.

He said 'listening is an expression of love.' It is the greatest gift we can give each other, to really try to understand. Yet, with these barriers and distractions, with the defensive ego and the urge to impress, no wonder people choose to talk to a trained therapist. Or to God.