Communication and Empathy
I think skill in communication is one of the most important skills anyone can learn. We do it all the time, whether we want to or not. And perhaps we do it more than ever now, since the advent of the tech revolution. In this article I aim to reframe empathy as a communication skill, rather than innate talent or merely intuitive vicarious feeling, and show how it can be used to create clarity and quality of understanding in relationships.
The Symptoms
The social media sphere among others seems increasingly opinionated, and those opinions hold less and less room for opposing or conflicting ideas.
Position:
“Trump is a poster boy for racism and bigotry and anyone who supports him must also be an abhorrent racist who spends their evenings twirling the ends of their waxed handlebar mustache and thinking about how to be racist tomorrow,”
Counterposition:
“Trump is the only good thing that’s happened to this country’s economy in 20 years and anyone who can’t see that must be a brainwashed, purple-haired, leftist snowflake who stomps and screams like a spoiled child in Walmart when someone uses the wrong pronoun to describe a transgender person.”
Position:
“Caloric deficit/surplus and expenditure is the only mechanism determining weight loss/gain, and anyone who can’t see that clearly can’t read science or tie their own shoes,”
Counterposition:
“Calories hardly matter at all for weight loss/gain when it’s protein; carbs are the problem, and anyone who thinks CICO is a thing clearly doesn’t understand hormonal biochemistry or how to do simple addition.”
Position:
“Masks don’t impose upon our personal rights and don’t represent a political agenda; it’s only a small gesture of respect toward those who could be harmed by or die from a virus, and anyone who think’s masks are political probably also believes in UFOs,”
Counterposition:
“Anyone who suggests we should wear masks is a pawn of the CCP, and the Chinese manufactured COVID as a weapon to destabilize liberal democracy.”
In the average internet interaction like this, there are often too many failures of reasoning and communication to count: absence of nuance, straw man, ad-hominem, tu quoque, false equivalence, red herring, false dichotomy, projection, over-simplification, slippery slope, and on and on.
To be fair, it’s already a challenge for an intelligent person to avoid all the aforementioned errors in reasoning and construct a valid, sound argument. And even if they succeed, it still seems easy to fail to deliver the argument with good tact, timing, and consideration. Fallacy, bias, and emotional reactivity is built into the human operating system; it takes quite a bit of quality work to overcome these inclinations. And that’s if you’re clever and well-educated.
Consider that the average IQ is 100 (meaning half of the population is technically lower than that) and education in reasoning skills and emotional self-awareness is worse than piss poor: it’s no surprise most find themselves stuck in poor communication patters, inadvertently sabotaging their relationships. This is only exacerbated by the attention-at-any-cost nature of social media.
But I want to be careful here, as there’s a common trope which posits social media and its culture as the cause and culprit. I think it’s a mistake to see internet applications as the root of all this. Our behavior on these platforms is symptomatic of our many pre-existing shortcomings in interpersonal communication. Perhaps these platforms provide a space for these shortcomings to be encouraged, antagonized, and to spiral further into dysfunctional communication. But these are deeper patterns which are already to some extent active in our in-person relationships.
Let There Be Light
Despite the dystopian emotional wasteland of doom I’ve painted above, I see a few pieces of good news here.
First: maybe it’s a good thing if these patterns are exposed and highlighted in the social media space. It might just be a chance to bring them into the light. What were once mystery phenomena—living in the basement passageways of our close relationships, sabotaging them from underground—can now be seen more frequently and transparently. It’s easy to blame my patterns of poor communication on Jimmy when it’s just me and Jimmy. But as the sample size grows, as the sheer volume of interactions increases, it can be easier to see when the negative outcomes I’m experiencing are indeed my own doing. That is of course assuming I don’t just block everyone with whom I disagree.
Yes I’m saying social media can be a tool for communication practice, instead of a space for reactive emotional discharge. We could actually use it to actively excavate and refine strategies for understanding and sharing with each other. Basic, I know. But imagine if even 20% of people on social media used it this way.
Second: perhaps it’s not even necessary to address all the poor communication and reasoning strategies I listed above to see significant progress here. Failure to empathize—failure to imagine ourselves in the place of others as fallible humans, not as positions but as people who hold positions—seems to be a sort of lynchpin at the center of this. How we treat each other is a side-effect of this deeper failure. And it’s my experience that if we first turn our attention to what stands in the way of empathy, everything else simply gets better by proxy.
Empathy
I think most have a vague notion of what empathy is. The word is used commonly enough. But to me most definitions seem to be missing something crucial. Even if I think I know what someone else is feeling, or even think I’m feeling the same vicariously, I’m often mistaken.
It’s all-too-common to misinterpret the feelings, and the perspectives which give rise to those feelings, of another person. And yet most colloquial understandings of empathy paint it as a gift one either has or doesn’t, an innate ability to directly intuit the feelings of another. And there might be something to this. Some might possess more natural talent in this regard than others. But I think this portrayal of empathy truly fails to describe the human condition in a couple of important ways.
Regardless of how much talent I think I have for intuiting the feelings of others, I can’t get it right all of the time. And when I do get it ‘right’, my assessment is based on an array of many non-verbal and verbal stimuli, which I have to process through the lens of my own interpretive organs. That is to say, I don’t have direct access.
What I do have is a judgement about another’s thinking and feeling—sucked through the narrow straw of my own current biochemical state, genetic predisposition, templates I’ve constructed over time for interpreting others’ behavior through an amalgamation of my past experiences, etc. The rapid, dynamic interplay between such factors is what forms what most call intuition. So even when my intuitive assessment about another’s feelings is ‘right’ in this regard, it’s not really right. It’s an estimation, which happens to coincide to some degree with the person’s actual perspective and feelings.
Further, as factors like age and intelligence increase, perspectives and feelings tend to become more intricate. This complexity and nuance makes them harder to estimate via strictly ‘intuitive’ means.
My point is simple: empathy can be partially ‘intuitive,’ but if I want to empathize with reliable accuracy across many interactions, I have to develop this intentionally. I cannot leave it up to talent or coincidence. For the reasons I listed above, even those with a high degree of talent in empathy still require development for this skill to form a good foundation of communication.
The Litmus Test
Here’s a very simple concept I find useful for testing capacity for empathy. I first heard this years ago from Sam Harris during one of his podcast. If I can summarize your position in a way you fully agree with, then it’s safe to say I’ve understood your position to a reasonable degree.
It sounds very simple. But this is powerful when actually applied as a prerequisite to empathy, and even discussion and disagreement. Because for most, it’s unlikely they’ll get this right the first time. So they get corrected, “No, that’s not quite what I meant,” and so their representation of the position grows more accurate as this repeats. In principle it seems straightforward. So this begs the question: why is it so seldom applied?
The Obstacles
We’re not having dialogues with each other, we’re having dialogues with our own narratives. Narratives are an integral part of the interface between the human organism and its environment. My experience is largely shaped by stories, categories, stereotypes, and other interpretative templates about who I am and what I’m capable of, who others are and what they’re likely to do, what my environment is like, etc. And without awareness of these narrative interfaces, I’m at their mercy and destined to react to them as if they are the truth itself. For the average person who has no experience with introspective practice, there is no distance or distinction between their narrative interface and reality; they are one and the same.
The self-preservation mechanism is strong. Many of these narratives are formed in reaction to trauma. I’ll define trauma loosely here as an emotionally significant (relative to the person) experience of fright, fear, anger, sad, and/or pain. As a response to these experiences, the organism forms a narrative template which is purposed to cope with this trauma and prevent its recurrence. Ex: At 17 years old William is held hostage at gunpoint in a coffee shop while waiting in line. The perpetrator is male, has a beard and wears sunglass. Subconsciously William forms the narrative, “I’m not safe around guys with beards and sunglasses.” More broadly it might even be something like, “My environment is unsafe; even normal situations like buying coffee can turn into life or death scenarios.” He masks this narrative with a mantra: “I’m strong, I can handle myself,” and starts going to martial arts classes. He’s jumpy when standing in line at cafes. He puts on a tough front with his friends and often makes a point of slipping in comments about how good his boxing is. And so on.
We’re holding on tight with out eyes closed. This kind of narrative is persuasive and persistent. It’s persuasive because it was adopted in the first place to protect us, and we believe subconsciously that if we question it bad things will happen, like before. So we actively close our eyes to it. It’s persistent also because it goes unquestioned, but secondly because it integrates with the rest of our operating system—our values, behavioral traits, relationships, etc.—and this continuous dynamic interplay structurally reinforces the narrative, making it feel like part of our ‘identity.’ Two people shouting at each other are not shouting at each other; they’re shouting over themselves in a desperate defense of their fear based narratives. They think that if the other side is heard or has their way, one of two things will happen: their narrative will be right and the trauma will recur; or their narrative will fall along with its use as a protective mechanism, and the trauma will recur. Hence the desperation.
‘Identity’ goes both ways. These narratives get reinforced not only internally, but also externally—as others also come to conflate my narratives with my identity. “William is that guy who’s a man’s man; he’s good at boxing. He’s also a bit of an introvert and doesn’t much like to go out to cafes or crowded places.” Little do they know, these behaviors in William’s particular case are symptoms of deep fear-based narratives. Maybe if he could loosen his grip on these stories he might choose to live differently. But now that all his friends associate him with these behavioral traits, there’s an additional layer of resistance to overcome. People often resist change or at least take time to adjust to it, especially when said change is to the personality traits of people close to them.
Overcoming The Obstacles
Here are a few simple things that can be done to improve communication and less frequently fall into helpless reaction to narratives.
Separate the narratives from the facts. There’s a difference. Yes, always. Narratives can coincide with facts, but what makes a narrative different is that it is applied unjustly as a general and permanent truth. And by practicing noticing this difference, I create the space to see my narrative as an interpretive template, a story, instead of unequivocal fact. Thusly I free myself from the necessity of reacting to it.
Clarify the narrative. As I’m entering into an interaction, I pause and practice paying attention to narratives I’m carrying into the that situation. I break them down into a simple and recognizable form that I can spot quickly when they arise in the future. I do this often, and over a long time.
Lay out the consequences. I pay attention over time to how certain narratives are creating bias, coloring my experience of other people and their positions. I notice when my reaction to these narratives sabotages the outcome of my interactions.
Drop it. Once I’ve seen the price of believing this narrative, I can now practice softening my grip on it. Deep exhales, relaxed muscles, and tactile grounding all help with this.
Listen. Now that I’m not in reaction, I have space to really be present and listen to the other person. I have a more direct line to understand the context, feeling, and nuance of the other person’s position. I can ask questions based on what they say—truly for the sake of understanding, and not merely to set up my pre-fabricated argument. I can also try summarizing what they said, or rephrasing it in my own words to see if I got it right.
Orient to my values. Once I feel I’ve gotten a fair picture of the other’s position, whether I agree or disagree with that position, I ask myself, “What do I really want out of this scenario? What matters to me most here [when I’m not in reaction to a narrative]?” Then I act on that.
A Clarification
Let me get something straight: I’m not suggesting we treat all positions equally or give them equal consideration. Like people, not all positions are equal. Some positions are simply stupid, nearsighted, lazy, maligned, malicious, or drunk on bad ideas—and don’t deserve the same opportunity to be applied in practice. But they are the way they are for a reason, and at least I can try to develop understanding first. And positions, also like people, are not perforce stuck the same way forever. My point early in this article was that there’s a growing readiness to jump behind a Gatling gun to defend against positions that haven’t even been understood or even heard all the way though. It’s almost as if the baseline assumption is that nobody will ever change their mind about anything, and so we have to annihilate them or else suffer impending existential doom at the hands of these hopelessly stubborn and misguided souls.
Understanding a position or opinion doesn’t mean agreeing with it. In fact, if I end up disagreeing after I’ve thoroughly understood, well then: my objection will be truly potent, as it will see straight to the shortcomings of the actual position and propose better alternatives.
Reframing Empathy
I think empathy is a powerful word, and does seem to hold space for the kind of depth and nuance that can change human communication and feelings toward each other.
But if empathy only refers to my vicarious experience of another’s emotions before the work has been done to understand their position, then empathy appears to be mere guesswork and assumption, carrying with it a high probability of misunderstanding. This kind of empathy is more like a reflex, and says more about the subject experiencing empathy than the object of that empathy.
And if on the other hand empathy refers only to my vicarious experience of another’s feelings after the work has been done to understand their position with as much accuracy as possible, it seems to refer merely to the natural fruits of all the work I’ve done to strive toward it.
In my view, empathy is a more powerful concept when it encompasses the process of ongoing inquiries and course corrections which lead to understanding another’s position. Because without this, empathy is either highly presumptuous or is reduced to mere vicarious feeling after the real work has been done.