At the end of the performance, as the exhausted actors leave the stage, the grand theater of pension reform leaves us with the memory of a tiresome spectacle. From the first to the last act, the government declaimed the economic imperative – as much as moral – and invoked the deluge or forty-eight months of compulsory labor. The unions, in a united chorus, resisted to the strains of the Internationale for a social gain won by their elders. Finally, in the pit, the media cohort greedily sang the hymn of social conflict and its probable slide into general strike.

This distressing review, destined to be repeated, is just one example of this general inability to communicate calmly to solve our problems. Far from being the sole preserve of political representations, this “langue de bois” has infiltrated all our lives, personal and professional, turning them into drunken, absurd Kabuki theater. Juniors no longer understand seniors, tenants no longer talk to landlords, artists and their audiences curse each other out over a faux-pas, elected officials and their constituents shout at each other over the town planning scheme, and conflicts between ex-spouses are making separations ever more bitter. Who takes the time to listen when incantation and invective have become our lingua franca? This collective awkwardness in talking to each other is what we call the new incommunication.

But why is this situation of growing incommunication striking us when, paradoxically, we communicate abundantly, with agencies and language elements, powerpoints, polished e-mails and explanatory visuals? Everyone now has an unprecedented arsenal at their disposal to back up their words. Some will point to social networks, undoubtedly at the forefront of the charge for their propensity to play on our differences and amplify the false. Others will point to the change in our fragmented societies, shaken by crises of confidence.

It seems, however, that the evil is much deeper, rooted in the conception that has developed of communication itself: it is no longer a means of reaching out and rubbing shoulders with others, but a closed circuit, a closed door disqualifying those who don’t join the party of unilateral consensus. Perhaps we’re simply fascinated by our own words, our own message, without worrying about the answers. What if the obsessive, narcissistic narrative we serve up to ourselves in this deaf monologue is a form of reality that dispenses with the return of reality? In this climate of post-reality, where the real is manufactured, would the image we tell ourselves be enough to satisfy us?

In this way, communication, a vector for understanding others, is misused to become both armor and an active tool for vexing and excluding one’s interlocutor. The government’s insistence on “pedagogy” betrays this desire to educate this rebellious, gypsy-smoking people, rather than recognize the healthy, legitimate disagreements that structure it. It also reflects the obvious sense of superiority of those who know better. Thus, the contempt and smugness of messages circulating from a clumsy CAC40 CEO to the smallest condominium are so many discreet slaps in the face of those considered inferior. We protect ourselves from him, and to protect ourselves even better, we disqualify him. We knock him out of the story.

Incommunication is the refusal to consider the intelligence and otherness of one’s opponent, in order to justify speaking only to those who are convinced a priori. Contemporary magical thinking, it is a denial of reality in the face of the basic teachings of the Palo Alto School: communication is a pas de deux played out between sender and receiver.

Ultimately, incommunication is an admission of a certain insignificance, taking oneself as the sole reference point, like an immature child. These self-referential bubbles are like fortified castles, protecting us from fertile cleavage in favor of sterile conflict… And yet, “the spirit of the fortified castle is the drawbridge”, as René Char puts it! So how can we turn communication back into a gateway to the other and to the world? How do we get out of this bulletproof communication exercise that managers so avidly practice?

We propose a simple solution to this problem: sympathetic listening and empathy as the unsurpassed starting point for any kind of message. Rather than protecting or humiliating them, we propose to start by listening to this interlocutor, this colleague, this friend, this parent and this constituent. Breaking the cycle of incommunication means first and foremost re-establishing the functions of opinion research and analysis, this time of disinterested listening, without any pre-formatted language in mind, in order to grasp expectations and nuances, which tomorrow will be so many assets needed to combine logic and rally emotion.

We need to put aside, at least for a while, the recipes for persuasion and other magic potions of leadership. Let’s break away from the illusion that to exist you have to shine and win votes by the sheer force of your egotistical words. Like Jacques Pilhan of old, let’s rediscover the virtues of silence, moderation and a keen ear for the deep breaths of opinion. Surely positive influence begins here? That’s what we think with our JIN teams. To overcome incommunication, let’s start by listening and remaining silent, in all humility.

Image: Screaming to each other (by courtesy of Dall.E-2)