Forgetting How To Communicate

THOSE OF US who have circulated in American society for the past two and a half decades, and especially the last decade, have probably noticed that the art of coherent conversation is dying a slow by steady demise. It actually began even earlier. First came air conditioning, luring neighbors off the front porch and into the cool living room, immersed in the fuzzy screen, inert. Will Rogers condemned air conditioning, for allowing congress to remain in session continuously, an indisputably valid complaint. Personal computers were at once the greatest facilitators and destroyers of quality communication. They facilitated global networking, but lured us deeper into the den, into deep cyberspace, immersed yet again, far from the family, neighborless in real time. Then came the smart phone, the kill shot. We have all grown accustomed to the ubiquitous smart phone, suspended in space, obscuring the human face, its servant oblivious to all else, in a worshipful trance, far away from reality. On the campus of my local university, twenty seven thousand students stride purposefully across campus, and none of them are aware of their surroundings. They all, literally all, hold their rectangular masters in front of them, many massaging the tiny plastic god with loving thumbs. Amazingly, they never run into trees, cars, fountains, buildings, or each other; they have, in less than a single generation, evolved some sort of radar. Ours is a culture desperately in search of ways to escape. And we've all had the seam experiences in conversation. We have all seen the lowered heads, the averted gazes, as our conversation partner searches for anything, anything other than our presence. We talk at each other, around each other, past each other, but seldom to or with each other. Our words collide in midair as we both speak at the same time, without concern. You try to tell a story about something that happened to you. Without the slightest acknowledgement of what you just said, the person to whom you're speaking offers a rejoinder; she had a similar experience, years ago. Must we all always and only talk about ourselves? We must, for we are all self absorbed, to the exclusion of all else. Every conversation turns into two conversations; yours, and the other person's. You're doing the talking; the person to whom you're talking is thinking of what to say next, and ignoring you. You do the same thing when the other person begins to speak. Once upon a time, it is rumored, people took turns speaking, and listened to each other. They had no choice; electronic screens had not yet been invented. Once upon a time it was considered rude to interrupt the speaker. Now, it is taken for granted. The quickest to speak, the loudest to speak dominates the conversation. Communication experts all give us rules for effective conversation making, and they all consist of the same common sense. Listen to the other person. Whatever she says, acknowledge it, and do not change the subject. Don't interrupt. Listening is more important than speaking. You somehow sense that we will begin to follow these rules only when we run out of coal, and the lights go out, and with them, our sacred screens.