Listen, don’t leap: Charles Assisi writes on coping with opposing worldviews

‘I’ve tried passionate arguments, and silence. I’m now embracing the idea that the answer may be to just listen, and lead with questions,’ Assisi says.

I have a friend who everyone thinks is unflappable. You know the type. Always calm. Always positive. Will help fix your marriage with three bullet points.

The animated film Flow is certainly about the cat, but the capybara is really the hero of the tale. A peaceful creature, it steps up when a stand must be taken, works to unite, and quietly inspires.

Lately, this friend and I have been working together on a highly stressful project that involves multiple stakeholders, conflicting interests, and the usual mess that comes with trying to get anything done in this world.

It’s got me all worked up. My wife worries. His wife worries too. Except, when she wants to know what’s going on, she checks in with me.

Every so often, I’ll get a call from her. “He listens to you,” she says. “Be his ally. Please make sure he’s okay.” I assumed this was because he remained unflappable at home, and she wanted to know what was really going on. Last week, I realised I’d read it all wrong.

At a mutual friend’s birthday dinner, she walked up to me and asked how I was holding up. I told her I’d lost my temper once or twice, at the office. And I remained amazed by how calm her husband always seemed.

“It’s all a façade,” she said. “He comes home and turns into someone else. Gets snappy. Withdrawn. Explodes over small things.”

I didn’t know what to say. At first, I was surprised. Then I realised I shouldn’t be.

If I’m being honest, I know exactly what this is like. I’ve been this person.

I even wrote about it, two weeks ago: How most of us carry around more than one version of ourselves. How there’s the version that shows up in meetings, knows how to sound agreeable, and smiles on cue. The version that turns up at family gatherings and knows which jokes to laugh at. And the version that surfaces at home, tired, unfiltered and impatient.

It’s not deliberate. It just becomes a habit. A survival tactic. All day, one moderates and adapts; feints and pretends. Says “Interesting point” even when what one really wants to do is shout: “Are you a complete idiot?”. Says “Let’s circle back” when what we really mean is, “That’s the worst idea I’ve heard all week.”

The performance doesn’t come cheap. It is draining, and confusing. Eventually, one starts to forget which version is the real you.

One way to return to one’s true self, I wrote then, is to slow down, use silences and pauses. If I don’t know how I feel about something, I stop pretending to have an erudite opinion. If I disagree, I let the silence hang, I wrote then.

It struck me, in the wake of this party, that perhaps this wasn’t the cure-all I thought it was. Was I not taking the easy (even cowardly) way out? Wasn’t everyone struggling? Was it not a bit selfish to simply back out of the discourse?

Could I not do this better? I decided to start by really listening, rather than tuning out.

The more I paid attention, the more I realised this isn’t just a personal trick. It’s been studied, over decades. Researchers such as Elizabeth Krumrei Mancuso have found that people with “intellectual humility”, those who are able to sit with opposing views without collapsing into defensiveness, are more self-aware, better at problem-solving, more creative.

Through history, people with intellectual humility have quietly, non-violently driven real change.

There was, for instance, Daryl Davis, subject of the 2016 documentary Accidental Courtesy: Daryl Davis, Race & America. The Black musician befriended members of the Ku Klux Klan, not to argue, but to try to understand. Over time, more than 200 of the people he reached out to left the Klan. Many said they couldn’t hold on to their hate, once they had met their supposed enemy, and had conversations with him over time.

If he can sit down with the Klan, I think we can find ways to share a room with someone whose attitudes or opinions we despise.

I now think of this as mental yoga. Something in the brain stretches — not to break, but to breathe — when one shares time and space with someone of a different worldview. This is how real growth occurs; how change happens.

It struck me then that maybe this is the real productivity hack too. Because isn’t most of our bandwidth spent managing friction? Dodging it? Soothing it? Spinning it?

What if we stopped and simply let a disagreement breathe? Listened, and led with questions, instead of leaping to offer a counterpoint?

Back to my friend, I still think he’s a good man. But I now know he’s tired, from holding it all together. For all my talk about clarity, I’ve been hiding behind his performance too. He takes the flak, and I get to stand behind him and reflect.

It’s hard to admit it, but maybe I haven’t been a “silent ally”. Maybe I’ve just been silent.

I intend to change this; take a fresh turn at evolution. Embrace the uncomfortable. That’s where growth begins. When you’re uncomfortable, and still stay open, that’s the stretch.

(Charles Assisi is co-founder of Founding Fuel. He can be reached on assisi@foundingfuel.com)