Is Online Communication Changing the Way We Talk Offline?

Have you noticed that conversations seem different lately? More fragmented. More superficial. Or is it just me?

WHEN CONVERSATIONS SUDDENLY FELT DIFFERENT

A while back, when I was still deeply processing a traumatic experience, I noticed that I had suddenly become acutely sensitive to the way conversations unfold.

I think that was because I was deeply shaken by the realization that there was nowhere I could really take my story. When it had just happened, I did what I had always done whenever something major had happened in my life: I called a few close friends so I could talk it through.

But what had always worked before no longer seemed possible. Not primarily because I wondered whether the bonds I have with my current friends are strong enough for me to call them about something like that.
What I discovered was that you're allowed to tell your story—but not for too long, and not too often. I've written about that elsewhere in more detail (including here and here), so I won't repeat it now. What I want to talk about here is something else. It wasn't just that I found it increasingly difficult to bring a painful story to friends. What also began to strike me, painfully, was that many other kinds of conversations seemed to suffer from the same problem.

At least, that's how it suddenly felt to me, whereas before I had never consciously noticed it.

TALKING MORE, LISTENING LESS?

What stood out to me was that many of the people I talked to seemed to enjoy talking much more than listening. Time and again, I couldn't shake the impression that people were listening only superficially—or hardly listening at all. I got that impression because I was so often interrupted. In fact, I almost never managed to finish making my point. Before I got there, the conversation would already have shifted to, "Oh yeah, that reminds me of..." and off we'd go.
Call me old-fashioned, but when that happens I follow the other person's detour, intending to return to the point I was trying to make in the first place, only to be interrupted again moments later by another association that popped into their mind and was voiced on impulse.

At some point I made a deal with myself: I would stop trying so hard to make my point. Apparently the other person isn't all that interested, and for me it's frustrating and a strain on my memory to keep walking down what feels like a side path in the conversation, only to have to find my way back to what, for me, was the main road.
My decision to stop trying to make my point is purely for social reasons. But it has also made conversations feel much less meaningful to me when they consist mostly of taking turns voicing whatever comes to mind. What each person says often has very little to do with what the other just said.

HAS SOMETHING CHANGED IN THE WAY WE LISTEN?

Was it always like this? I found myself wondering. 
Twenty or thirty years ago, conversations didn't seem this fragmented—or did they, and I simply never noticed? I do remember that people sometimes interrupted each other back then too, tossing in a quick association here and there. But as I remember it, people were still able to listen to each other with sustained attention.

I have the impression that many people's attention spans have declined—not only in terms of how long they can listen, but also in how deeply they listen. It's as if the need for constant novelty, fresh stimuli, and new impulses has grown stronger. And if their conversation partner doesn't provide those stimuli, their own mind will, in the form of yet another association demanding to be voiced.
A conversation has to be entertaining enough to keep offering new stimuli at a fast enough pace, yet at the same time it has to remain relatively shallow. More substantive topics seem to require too much concentration.

During that difficult period, I often experienced that what I was saying simply didn't register. It didn't land. People would latch onto one element of what I'd said and respond to that, but the larger message never seemed to come across.

FROM SOCIAL MEDIA TO EVERYDAY CONVERSATION

I see a parallel with the way people communicate on social media. Memes. Photos. Superficial posts: "Good morning, everyone!" Generic responses:"Nice post!" "Haha, that's funny!" "Beautiful!"

As far as I can tell, long-form writing, carefully developed arguments, and thoughtful responses are relatively rare there. More often, several conversations happen simultaneously as people jump from one profile to another. There seems to be a constant need for that little buzz—the notification that someone has responded. What the response actually says matters much less than the fact that it's positive. "Nice!"

Even on social media, people don't really seem to listen to one another. More than once I've had someone ask me a question, only for new messages to start coming in while I was still composing my reply. By the time I answered, no one seemed interested anymore. There, too, communication is mostly about broadcasting rather than receiving.

Sometimes I wonder whether this style of online communication has gradually spilled over into offline life—as if the norms of social media have rewired many people's brains, shaping the way they now interact face to face.

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN COMMUNICATION BECOMES SUPERFICIAL?

Which brings me to the question that naturally follows.

If communication becomes increasingly superficial, could it be that our relationships become more superficial as well? That friendships lose some of their depth? And that, in the end, this is why there is no longer anyone you feel you can call when something truly difficult happens.

Could that be part of what's going on?

Photo: Nam Quach