The lost art of conversation

They say conversation is an art. And like any other art, it demands of its practitioners a sustained commitment to observe certain informal, yet indispensable, conditions. This in turn requires a relatively considerable measure of self-discipline, for the activity of conversation consists of conditions toward which our inclinations do not readily gravitate. For the conditions of conversation need rules of civility, prescriptions for all who venture to engage in it to act honestly and charitably toward one another.

Ironically, as advances in telecommunications increase , people’s ability to converse or even communicate is rapidly degenerating. This trend is especially true among the vast majority of young people who spend their lives “speaking” to each other through instant messaging, “grammarless” blurbs of text messaging, and short comments on social networking sites, such as Myspace and Facebook.

The rules of conversation are of a formal character, so they are indifferent to the content of the conversation, and if the conversation involves an exchange between contrary views, it is equally indifferent as to which of the two (or more) views is most plausible or correct. There is a difference between a conversation and a debate. 


The value of debate, like the value of war, is derivative or extrinsic: both are a means to the end of victory, a goal believed to be superior to and independent of the activities that bring it to fruition. In contrast, the value of conversation is intrinsic to itself: it has no external end for the sake of which it is undertaken and in which it promises to achieve its culmination. It is its own end. While debate is an inherently adversarial activity in that the principle objective of the participants is to exploit their opponents’ weaknesses so as to reap benefits for themselves, conversation is an act of mutual self-sharing through which the alienation of each interlocutor from the other is overcome. 

Actors in a debate are “opponents,” but in a conversation they are neither “opponents” nor “allies.” but rather colleagues


 For the participants in a conversation are united by their shared commitment to the conversation-- the observance of the rules prescribing honesty and charity. Their goal, if conversation can be said to have a goal at all, is to keep the conversation going. 

There is another consideration that no discussion of conversation can afford to omit. The requirements of honesty and charity are inseparable from a willingness to genuinely listen to one’s interlocutor.

Americans and Indians are a loquacious people. The “information age” has exponentially increased the number of opportunities for communication, opportunities of which they have spared no occasion to avail themselves. We are constantly talking to others, whether in person, on our cell phones, or via e-mail and/or instant messaging. Perhaps it is because talking is at such a premium in our society that it is widely and almost invariably assumed that those who are most “talkative” are the best “conversationalists.” Whatever the reasons for this assumption, it is a misconception of the worst sort. 


While it is impossible for a person who seldom -- if ever -- speaks more than a few words at any given time to practice, let alone master, the art of conversation, an exceptionally talkative person is likely to have no less difficult a time of doing so. A propensity to talk is necessary for conversation, but it is far from sufficient. Unless we show a willingness to listen to what our partners in conversation have to say, conversation rapidly degenerates into an episode of self-aggrandizement. Those who are incessantly chatty love to hear themselves speak, but their excessive self-love comes at the cost of repelling others. We’re talking at each other rather than with each other.

The problem is that all of this talk comes at the expense of conversation. 
Conversations, as they tend to play out in person, are messy—full of pauses and interruptions and topic changes and assorted awkwardness. But the messiness is what allows for true exchange. It gives participants the time—and, just as important, the permission—to think and react and glean insights. “You can’t always tell, in a conversation, when the interesting bit is going to come,” Turkle says. “It’s like dancing: slow, slow, quick-quick, slow. You know? It seems boring, but all of a sudden there’s something, and whoa.” Occasional dullness, in other words, is to be not only expected, but celebrated. Some of the best parts of conversation are, as Turkle puts it, “the boring bits.” In software terms, they’re features rather than bugs.

The logic of conversation as it plays out across the Internet, however—the into-the-ether observations and the never-ending feeds and the many, many selfies—is fundamentally different, favoring showmanship over exchange, flows over ebbs. The Internet is always on. And it’s always judging you, watching you, goading you. True conversation needs us to look into each other’s eyes as we talk. We need to read each other’s movements.

Today it seems that everybody’s talking but  nobody’s is conversing.  For a conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. 

As usual the Bard said it best: "Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood"