I Know You Too Well To Listen
If you’re like me, you think of yourself as a pretty good listener. With close friends and family, in particular, our communication seems so efficient that we can anticipate what the other is going to say and do before it happens. With close, intimate communications, we learn the other person’s rhythms, tendencies, and preferences, and so it becomes a relatively easy matter to know where the conversation is heading before it gets there. Communication becomes more a function of instinct rather than formal listening.
According to journalist Kate Murphy in her new book, “You’re Not Listening: What You’re Missing and Why It Matters” that is precisely the problem.
I don’t now how many of you have had a regular commute but among my checkered job history, several of them have required a commute of more than 30 minutes. The first time driving those routes is nerve racking as I try to make sure I don’t miss any turns, I’m not going to get there too early, and a handful of other concerns.
By the time I’ve driven that road a couple dozen times, I could practically do it blindfolded. In fact, on more than one occasion I would find that I got to my destination, either work or the return trip, and I would have no memory of the trip. I knew the path well enough that I had gone on autopilot, offering only the minimal attention to the drive at hand. According to Murphy, that’s close to how communication works.
When we first get to know another person, we are paying close attention and listening carefully as we try to gather information from which to make a social decision. In fact, sometimes we can become hyperaware of the other person and obsess over trivial word choices resulting in a large portion of sitcom plots.
Once we have gotten to know a person and spend regular amounts of time with them, the relationship can become like that commute. We know it so well that we hardly pay attention to it. We put in the effort of active listening to start the relationship but now that it is established, we grow complacent.
The problem is that people change much more frequently than the road. People are constantly changing and growing and if we aren’t paying attention because we are on autopilot, we can miss those changes. Suddenly we are 20 miles down the road in the wrong direction because we weren’t paying attention to the detour signs.
Curiously, this closeness-communication bias as Murphy refers to it not only impacts our ability to listen, but also our ability to be listened to. We grow comfortable communicating with specific other people and assume they understand us as well as we think we understand them. The tendency is to assume that they know what we mean even if we aren’t particularly clear with our communication. The result is frequent miscommunication and muddiness with what does get through.
There’s a reason we tend to feel most isolated around people we’ve known for a long time. There’s a reason that miscommunications, misunderstandings, and general confusions of intent tend to happen around people we think we understand the best. There’s a reason the people whose opinions we can anticipate, are the ones likely to surprise us. We only think we are listening.
As we all bunk in and try to make the best of our pseudo-quarantine with those we’re already familiar with, consider whether you’re actually listening or if it’s just autopilot. And check out Kate Murphy’s book. You probably have some extra time on your hands.
