It was a tempting promise. The utopia of the third millennium heralded unlimited communication. With the overcoming of old taboos, the appearance of smartphones and the exuberance of friendships on social networks, the future predicted an unknown splendor of conversations and connections. And yet, today we find ourselves mentally entrenched and more lonely than ever. Although we share a deep thirst for attention and listening, we turn a deaf ear and speak to each other with hostility or indifference. A recurring complaint surfaces everywhere: lack of consideration. A few people receive all the recognition, while the vast majority feel neglected, silenced and isolated.
Much of everyday conversations are distracted and routine. Words are thrown into the void to fill time and ward off discomfort. We are educated to fear silence as something hostile, but we clumsily avoid it. We would be different people if the meetings that decided the course of our lives had been less silent and superficial, if we had truly exchanged thoughts. Perhaps this world enchanted by the exuberance of information is beginning to long for the pleasure—and power—of conversation. As he said Luis Buñuel: “I adore solitude in exchange for a friend coming to talk to me about it.”
In your intimate history of humanity, Theodor Zeldin remembers two decisive moments in the chronicle of the talking discoveries of our species. The first of these stellar stages took place when Greek philosophy discovered dialogue. Until then, the learning model was the monologue: the wise man or the god spoke, and the others listened. The early Hellenic philosophers proclaimed that individuals could not be intelligent separately, but needed the spur of other minds. Socrates He was the first to boldly maintain that two people can learn by questioning each other and examining inherited ideas until they detect their flaws, without attacking or insulting each other. Socrates humorously admitted that, being extraordinarily ugly, he strove to prove that everyone can be beautiful because of the way they speak.
That revolutionary and talkative flow ended in Rome. Ciceropolitical leader and thinker, inherited the same fascination for words woven together in common. He stated that “whoever engages in conversation should not prevent others from entering, as if it were their own private property; “You must think that, as in everything else, in general conversation it is also fair to take turns.” His writings were not conclusive essays but multi-voiced dialogues in which he played only a small role and which ended without a clear winner. Cicero, a great connoisseur of the ins and outs of power and at the same time in love with philosophy, trained in the debate of ideas, which helps us find archipelagos of agreement among the oceans of disagreement.
After the ancient discoveries, the Renaissance illuminated a new scene of talking passion, now starring women. In intellectual circles, ladies grew tired of the crude and ostentatious behavior of courtiers, who strutted around like fighting cocks. The movement sprung up in the main Italian cities, spread through France and England and finally to the rest of Europe and America. In the face of arrogance, another ideal was born: courtesy, delicacy, tact and culture. The most imitated model was that of Madame de Rambouilletwho invented the conversation chamber orchestra at the beginning of the 17th century. He taught his contemporaries to filter their ideas through other people’s minds. Their meetings gave life to epigrams, verses, maxims, portraits, panegyrics, music and games. Above all, they overthrew the model of debate aimed at crushing others: they agreed that seriousness would be light, that reason would listen to emotion, that they would practice courtesy without suffocating sincerity. Although this scale of taste and refinement was the privilege of aristocratic circles, those salons—almost always led by wise hostesses—gave shelter to enlightened ideas. At times, the dialogue became vain and pedantic, delighted with its own luster, until it led to imposed mannerisms, but that custom left a valuable legacy: the culture of conversation. According to the essayist Benedetta Craverithe extraordinary thing about those salon talks was that they aspired to clarity, moderation, elegance, and respect for the self-esteem of others.
These humanistic paths offer routes for today’s challenges. We must still learn the art of speaking respectfully to each other, even among strangers, aware of the impact of our words on the sometimes fragile balance of the spirits of others. In the last century, philosophers such as Martin Buber either Emmanuel Levinas They thought that, in essence, we are beings of encounters: the self emerges from dialogue with a you, the other, the different. The real conversation between two people who listen to each other is the best tool to break down barriers in a world that is as unequal as it is confronted, where the absence of communication is becoming a major problem immersed in silence. Prolonged isolation damages health and, if it persists over time, the suffering of not being able to speak freely, without masks or fear of misunderstanding, can lead to states of anguish. A growing number of young people are beginning to confess that they suffer from unwanted loneliness, when it used to be the least threatened age group. The feeling of distance, frustration, pressure and lack of warmth in encounters with other people spreads. To watch days and life go by from a glass prison or behind the trench of a screen, where no one can reach you. An essential key to understanding the outbursts and howls of our time is that anger that can be mitigated by listening or, on the contrary, fueled in a spiral of aggressiveness.
All authentic collaboration requires conversation, those dialogues where, while we play—without judging each other—with ideas, we forge alliances. Collective action gains strength when we are able to verbalize our weaknesses and complexities. Without fear, assuming the danger, since by listening we run the risk of being convinced. In fact, “converse” comes from Latin versare“spin”. It refers to living together, converging, but also changing, turning around in company. In some way, conversing is an activity with political and poetic significance—weaving verses with other people. Instead of weaving living words, we hide behind our expensive screens so as not to speak face to face. Telephones silence us more often than we silence them. While our fingers write hypnotized to a distant face, we do not look at those around us: we are wasting experiences, leading failed escapes. The downside of this golden age of communication and information is that we have not yet learned to talk to each other. We humanize and love our devices, while we are increasingly mechanical with other people. The mistake was believing that technology would teach us to converse. For the algorithm, a person is reduced to just a mere “customer”, “follower” or “user”. When the digital network traps us in market niches, and the political shouting cloisters us in opposing sides, the old invitation to dialogue keeps alive the hope of opening cages, calming stridencies and building meetings. Perhaps more than ever, community preservation depends on conversation.
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© Irene Vallejo.
AQ
