Laura Symons, Director of Academic Resource/Writing Center

Originally published in Point of View Volume 2, November 1, Winter 1981-82.

The clock radio pulls us from sleep with the morning news. We read the cereal box while watching "Good Morning America." We are on the phone, at the keyboard, speaking with customers, or in front of piles of papers all day. We listen to N.P.R.'s "All Things Considered" on the drive home from work, and finally fall asleep to "The Tonight Show" or the "Late Show." We fill our days with a multitude of words. Having been taught to trust written words, film, and tape recordings, we depend on them to function in place of memory. We are inundated with so much information we can no longer distinguish what is important. the average American retains only 25% of the information he or she hears,¹ and few are able to select what that 25% will be.

The printed or recorded words have an air of authority: "I know this is true. I read it." The spoken word has been placed in double jeopardy. It has little chance of being remembered, and is somehow less real than the television, magazine, or newspaper version.

Our communication is in crisis. In the United States, as in most of the Western cultures, we give minimal attention to the unrecorded word, thus sapping it of its power. The recorded word we immediately forget, because we can always refer to it later. Memory atrophies. As we transfer our trust to recorded word and devalue the spoken, we become less able to respond to the non-verbal messages that are an integral part of the communication fabric. Verbal superficialities replace subtle communication, and we lose the ability to "give our word" because we have no word to give.

Atmospheric Communication

Communication is generally viewed as the exchange of information and ideas through a simple statement and response. It is becoming clear that this definition is limiting us; that communication is atmospheric and pervasive; that we can neither abstain from communication nor choose to initiate it. It is as involuntary, continuous, necessary, and yet as ultimately controllable as breathing. Daily, we relinquish the possibility of control by denying the reality of our perceptions and the effects we have on others.

According to the studies of J.C. Bose and others, it has been demonstrated that plants receive and respond to messages -- even the thoughts of human beings far away -- while not possessing a brain or other organs that we normally consider to be "conscious."² Can human beings with our intricate nervous systems and complex brains be less sensitive to our surroundings than plants? And might we also have means of sensing that what we do not yet recognize?

Just as it is hard to believe that plants can receive and respond to thoughts, it can be difficult to believe that we could be conscious of the entire communication we are receiving because (1) some forms of the message do not correspond to communication as we define it, and (2) we rarely, if ever, listen wholly with all of our senses. We are capable of consciously receiving a more complete communication, but our present patterns seem to steer us further and further away from learning how to be aware of what we receive.

Each person has a certain rhythm and tone that is the emanation of his or her heartbeat, nerve cell impulse, thought process, and motion complex. We broadcast our entire being and consciousness every wakeful moment and receive that message from everything around us. Just as our nerve impulses communicate the condition of individual cells to the rest of the body, the fabric of communication connects us all together, and provides the means for us to receive and respond to our world. Once we understand that we are part of an atmosphere in which everything communicates in an intimately related way, we can begin to consciously interpret what we receive and direct what we send.

In whatever form it comes, most of the communication message is channeled into the unconscious by the filtering system each human uses to sort incoming information and motor responses. The more obvious messages are consciously noted, as when someone is upset or unhappy but carrying a neutral facial expression. We may notice that he or she moves differently than usually or is taking a long time to respond. We may sense that a certain person makes us feel nervous or impatient, but the chances are that we won't give it more than a moment's notice before relying on the words being said as the only accountable message.

We Dance

We sense and respond to the rhythm and tone of those around us, creating, as it were, a kind of dance that is choreographed by the dancers and their physical surroundings. It is important that we acknowledge this dance, become aware of our part in it, and learn to consciously create it. But as long as we do not acknowledge the preferences that determine our selection processes, we can never have the clarity we need to be our own dance masters. We do mating dances or warning dances only partially aware of the messages we are sending and receiving. We allow them to become habitual. If a person sounds like someone else we know, we respond in the pattern we have established for the other person. It seems that if we can become conscious of this pattern, we can identify the habit and adjust the pattern to the individual and the moment. If we deny or do not practice working with the subtleties, we eventually lose the ability to see them at all.

Taking out the Garbage, Honestly

An example will illustrate one of the ways we deal with the complexities of communication in our society. Jane asks Tom to take out the garbage. Tom says he will do it. Tom's entire non-verbal communication -- everything but the actual words -- is giving the message that if he does take out the garbage it won't be for quite a while, and if he's lucky, Jane will lose patience and do it herself. If Jane calls Tom on his non-verbal message, he will indignantly insist that he said he would do what she asked. If she waits and then asks why he hasn't done the task, he simply will have forgotten. He has made no commitment as to when he will do it. Because the message has come in a non-verbal mode, he feels he can deny it.

If Tom and Jane had a contract or written fob description for their roles in their relationship, Tom might have been more concerned about coming through on his "promise," but it's unlikely that there would be an agreement like that because the crux of his conflict is an unwillingness to give one's word. Strangely enough, this stems from a respect for the power and binding force of the word, and the lack of self-confidence to make a commitment. While the result is a kind of dishonesty and the perpetuation of selfishness and laziness, underneath the unwillingness to give a clear answer is a desire to be honest.

It is quite a paradox: dishonest, deflective communication patterns created out of an innate sense of ethics, honesty, and the power of words.³

Low Context Culture

Another factor contributing to our inability to read the non-verbal and value the verbal message is our "low-context" culture. In a "high-context" culture, the cultural tradition and customs are so commonly understood by all that an intricate and subtle non-verbal communication system has been developed. Much is communicated without having to be said.

Japan, for instance, is a "high-context" culture. I once asked a Japanese woman who is a graduate student in communications at an American university what she felt is the main difference between Japanese and American cultures. She answered, "the necessity to talk, talk, talk." If she needs to study in the dormitory and someone is playing the radio loudly, she asks her to please turn it down. In a similar situation in Japan, the neighbor would have come to ask if the radio might be bothering her. Her verbal response would be that it was not bothering her at all. The neighbor would be expected to read the non-verbal cues and turn down the radio. If she would have to go so far as to ask the neighbor, it would show the neighbor to be unspeakably insensitive.

This kind of communication requires individuals not only to monitor their thoughts and the habit patterns they are developing, but also to be responsible for the effect they have upon others. One becomes acutely aware of the value of self-discipline for harmoniously fulfilling the role that he or she plays as part of the cultural community.

Like other "high-context" cultures, the Japanese have had an organic tradition that has been part of the mainstream of their society. And while Japan is experiencing a degree of Westernization, this tradition remains a major influence. As a culture, the United States has not established a tradition which allows for this degree of understanding and communication. The United States is characterized by a wide variety of cultural backgrounds and a high degree of mobility among the population. Each culture adds a non-verbal language that must be learned by others or translated to them. It takes time to develop deep communication with someone even if we have the same non-verbal system. If we speak different non-verbal languages and are constantly changing jobs, homes, and family constituents, we never have the time to develop in-depth communication with others. We have to start at the beginning with superficialities so often that we become comfortable with them and hesitate to go deeper. Consequently, we are producing a generation that expects change, and concomitantly prizes a glib verbal mode and shuns long-term responsibility.

Kreme is not Cream, and Luv is not Love

The idea that commitment has become distasteful can be seen in the verbal camouflaging we do. A friend of mine recently told me that she has three words, "weird," "strange," and "interesting," that she uses as her response to a variety of situations. When someone finally asked her what she meant by "strange," she realized that it meant the same as "interesting" and "weird," and that was nothing. They were a verbal shield that protected her from defining her own response and committing herself to it.

As little as we value it, speech is a commitment. Through words we make other people able to hold us responsible for what we have said we think, feel, or intend to do. My friend's verbal camouflage was one of a wonderful variety of techniques that allows us to use lots of words while avoiding any commitment.

Another technique has been passed on to us by the advertising industry. If the product is called "cream," it must contain cream. If the product is called "kreme," the advertiser is not committed to anything except to meeting a certain expectation for flavor or consistency. In fact, the product can have everything in it but cream. We also have words such as "wuv" or "luv" for love, so that we can avoid committing ourselves. If I send you a card that says, "I wuv you THIS much!!!", I'm telling you either that I feel something for you that I haven't quite defined, or that I love you but don't have the guts to admit it. "Wuv" is baby talk. By regressing to infantile language, it seems that the speaker is trying to return to childhood and thus absolve himself or herself of the responsibility for mature love.

Thoughts are a commitment, too. Our non-verbal communication bespeaks our thoughts, opinions, and assumptions even while our words are denying them. We are not trained to consider our thoughts; we are trained to think about what we say. By being aware of what we think, we come to know what we believe. By not considering our thoughts, we make ourselves unable to commit. And so the verbal hedging goes on.

Fluid Commitment

The ironic results of relying on words we give little value can be found everywhere in our culture. For years the word "friend" has been working its way to become synonymous with "acquaintance." We have had to add adjectives and find new words to indicate the commitment that "friend" once described. Now, instead of "friend" or "lover," we have "significant others" -- a term that falls somewhere past the current -- meaning of "friend" and somewhat shy of "spouse". This allows us to be honest without being accountable, and to define our degree of commitment as we go along.

The recorded word, our last stronghold of commitment, can be denied almost as easily as the non-verbal "Till death do us part!" has about a fifty percent chance of being true in our society.⁴ Law students are told that laws are written with a certain degree of ambiguity to afford the judge some latitude in applying the rule to individual situations. It would appear that this valid concept has been taken into daily interaction and stretched to the point of the ridiculous. We make ambiguous statements and wait until the other party has responded before deciding what we have meant. My friend's "interesting" means "good" or "bad" after I have responded to it. This verbal hedging is antithetical to the development of honesty, integrity, clarity, or trust. Ambiguity, whether intentional or unintentional, manipulates. Foggy thought and speech thus manipulate, and cross the fine line between ethical and unethical use of communication. No one can prove that the speaker is being unethical, although we all sense it and could read this message if we only knew how.

Self-Seeing

Communication can be a tool for self-seeing, especially after years of interaction with other individuals committed to understanding. But when my neighbors, my co-workers, and even my family are in a constant state of flux, and when commitment is a specter rather than a tool for building personal strength, then I am encouraged by everything around me to become skilled at maintaining a smooth verbal exterior that is disconnected from my real self. Inside I am frustrated. Nobody understands me, including myself. How can I hope to find meaning and satisfaction in my life?

I once told that if we are unwilling to make the little sacrifices called for in life, we will find ourselves confronted with a big sacrifice and no choice about making it. Let us consider that if we cannot begin to sacrifice comfortable superficialities, fear of commitment, and denial of non-verbal communication, by learning to focus and commit ourselves to what we say, think, and believe; then we may be forced to sacrifice a great degree of self-understanding and communion with our fellow human beings.

NOTES

1	Lyman K. Steil, "Secrets of Being a Better Listener," U.S. News and World Report, 26 May 1980, p. 65.
2	Peter Tompkins and Christopher Byrd, Secret Life of Plants, (N.Y.: Harper and Row, 1973).
3	The concept of this paradox was originated in a lecture on communication by J.E. Rash.
4	In 1979 the marriage rate in the U.S. was 10.7% and the divorce rate was 5.3% per 1000. U.S. Bureau of Census. 1980s Statistical Abstracts of the U.S. 101st Ed., Washington, D.C., p. 83.