The Power of Listening Part II: Friends, Family, and Partners
I stand on the stage, looking out over the auditorium. “Time’s up,” I say into the microphone, and suddenly the whole place erupts in intense chatter. There is laughter and animation and so much talking. This is supposed to be the end of the interaction, but the volume level is easily 3 to 4 times higher than what it was when I assigned the 200 students in my introductory psychology class to talk to a partner 4 minutes ago. And this time, even though the talking is “done,” I do not ask them to quiet down, and I do not interrupt.
All 200 of them are engaged in relationship repair.
I pick out distinct voices in the crowd, snatches of conversation:
“I was dying! I almost lost it and started laughing when you…”
“I’m so sorry about your brother…”
“That was so awkward!”
Four minutes ago, I’d plunged them into an experience to illustrate some points I wanted to make about listening. I’d asked them to pair up and take turns talking to each other for 2 minutes at a time. When it was their turn to talk, they could talk about anything they wanted for the allotted time. But when it was their turn to listen, they were not allowed to give any kind of feedback. No “uh huhs,” no smiling, no head nodding. Just a blank, expressionless face.
Students universally report that this is extremely uncomfortable for both the speaker and the listener. Some speakers rebel against what feels like being ignored (even though they know what the instructions are) by upping the drama, hilarity, or emotional content of their stories, becoming increasingly loud and animated. Others shut down, looking away from the listener, speaking more quietly, or not speaking at all. On the flip side, some listeners can’t seem to stop themselves from responding. They try to express interest with their eyes, giggle uncontrollably, or in some cases, just give up the game and verbally respond. And afterward, they invariably do their best to repair the damage by explaining how interested they really were, recounting details of the story to show they were listening, and bonding with their partner over how difficult it is both to be ignored and to be the person doing the ignoring.
The truth is being ignored does do damage. Students whose friends were successfully distracted by researchers reported being less sure of their perspectives and of their selves after the conversation than students whose friends either agreed or disagreed with them (Pasupathi & Rich, 2005). Being ignored is the worst.
Jon and Julie Schwartz Gottman, scientific researchers who have studied couple interactions for decades, also talk about the damage that happens when we ignore each other. In their language, a “bid for connection” happens when one partner tries to engage the other. “Did you hear that crazy news story about the stolen llamas?” or “What’s the deal with the weather today?” The Gottman’s research suggests that they can predict which couples will stay married and which will get divorced based on how often these couples respond to each other’s bids. Successful couples respond to each other’s bids 86% of the time, while couples who end up divorced are only responding to one another 33% of the time (the Gottman Institute).
Giving one another our attention is powerful. It signals that we are interested. It invites the speaker to continue to engage with us. It communicates that we are interested not only in their story but in them. It is a subtle sign of acceptance, of inclusion, and of worth. It doesn’t mean we agree with the speaker, but it does mean that we see them.
Most of us inherently know this. And yet, we allow ourselves to be distracted. Despite actually having spent several years researching the effect listeners have on both children and adults, I find myself tuning out sometimes. I remember the laundry. My mind wanders. My phone dings mid-conversation, and I reach over to see who it is. Like most people, I have to make a conscious, sustained effort to give my full attention to the people closest to me. However, being in the therapy room allows me to more easily put distractions aside. I don’t worry about laundry when I’m working with a client. I turn off my phone. I tune in, and when that happens, I have the luxury of really seeing, really noticing the person in front of me. I see the micro-expressions that cross their face; a fleeting look of sadness or a quick smirk that says they are finding something funny. I have often wondered if giving my full attention in the therapy room, really seeing and hearing and feeling what my clients are saying (and not saying), is what drives how much I genuinely like them and how connected I feel to them. The research says that an attentive listener can shape a speaker’s views of themselves. I believe that it can also shape a listener’s view of the speaker. I know I feel differently about a person when I take the time to attentively listen to them.
When we really tune in and listen to someone–a stranger on a plane, a colleague, our child, our partner, or parent–we are taking the time to connect, to see them, and in a way, to love them just because they are human.
