The power of silence

In recent posts I have extolled the virtues of communication: How talking can take the guesswork out of the equation, How not talking promotes instability, and Dialogue: A “simple” solution always worth a try. So now let’s introduce some caveats, specifically about when, how, and even whether communication always serves a purpose. In fact, we’ll get into the benefits of not communicating at all.

Talking is good but it doesn’t always help

Is more or better communication always the answer? No, of course not. Communication is not a silver bullet. It doesn’t solve every problem.

People have different embedded values, opinions, and interests. And if they are strongly held, talking just ain’t gonna change minds.  As probably most married (or unmarried) couples have noticed, certain issues don’t simply disappear no matter how much time is spent talking them over. My wife and I have been having pretty much the same conversation —over the design of a minor renovation project — for nigh on half a year, and we’re no closer to resolution, as far as I can tell. (Right now, chances are it will never happen!) This is despite the fact that in most other respects our marital communication seems to work reasonably well, I would venture.

Lincoln’s “hot letter” routine

There are times when someone else’s problem isn’t yours, and you don’t want it to become yours by starting a line of communication. There are also times when you can avoid creating problems by restricting your communication, when less is more.

This can be to the point where saying nothing at all may be best for everyone involved. This might be true when, for example, you find yourself on the verge of a fight, which could lead toward a rift in a relationship, at work or elsewhere.

Imagine a team member or supervisor has written you email criticizing your performance or questioning your judgment or abilities. Or they have said something you find unfair and you are fuming. I’ve been there. In the heat of the moment, the temptation arises to write them an angry response, explaining, defending, rationalizing, setting the story straight. Quite possibly the tone of your response skirts the bounds of what is seemly and professionally acceptable. You marshal a series of points to make a brilliant argument, but along the way you start coming across as some combination of defensive, self-righteous, petty, and oversensitive. Believe me, it won’t make you look good. It’s not a risk you want to take. However, by all means write that angry email or text or tweet, but then…before you send it, hit delete.

Abraham Lincoln was a proponent of writing angry letters — he called them “hot letters” — but then he would simply not send them. He got whatever he had to say off his chest, a therapeutic experience. Yet by not sending the letter he avoided damaging a relationship or making a decision in anger. This is a most excellent practice. It takes some discipline, but we would do well to abide by it.

On the virtues of being bland and brief

Of course, after you’ve written (and deleted) your hot letter, you may still need to respond in some fashion. However, when you do, the shorter and more innocuous the response, the better for all involved. I’ve learned this the hard way.

Nowadays, if someone asks for my advice about what to write when they are miffed about something, I generally encourage them to let it out all out, to tell me what is bothering them…verbally. Then I tell them to write their response but keep it cool, calm, professional, and brief.