The benefits of silence

are richer than you might think.

Working with a group of executives over a period of a few months, I began to feel my relationship with them wasn’t what it should be. I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong, but it felt like we were stuck and I wasn’t getting traction. In an effort to shift things, I decided to shut up. I promised myself that, throughout our meetings, I would stay silent, speaking up only when I felt there was something critical that wasn’t being said—or if I felt anyone’s voice was being ignored.

The results were tremendous. Knowing I was not going to speak made me a far better listener. Not thinking about when or how to jump in, I heard so much more. I became alert to the emotional tenor of the talk, sensitive to the topics that incited excitement, resistance or impatience. Dominant voices were easily identified, along with those whom they silenced. From some, I heard a quality of thinking I’m sure I had never noticed before; from others, I heard a repetitiveness that made me wonder: did they feel unheard, or did they simply have nothing more to offer?

I frequently left our meetings having said nothing; there was no need. Swearing myself to silence meant I waded in only when it truly mattered. When I did have something to say, it made more impact.

For me, this turned into a great experiment. It made me recognize that while everyone thinks meetings are about talking, somebody has to listen. Too frequently we are weighing our own words too carefully to notice what’s actually going on. I came to understand my colleagues better, to sense their needs and their patterns of thought.

I frequently recommend the experiment to my mentoring clients. At first, they are significantly disquieted: the notion of silence is alien to most leaders. But those that try it gain a great deal. One COO, refusing to offer a solution to a complex problem, heard (perhaps for the first time) how brilliant his team really was when they couldn’t second-guess him. Forced to think for themselves, his silence drew out their intelligence, commitment and skill. Gaining more confidence in his team meant he no longer needed to attend so many meetings. He even occasionally got home in time to have dinner with his kids.

I have become rather addicted to listening now. Mostly I try to hear what is being avoided, evaded or masked. What topics are skirted around? What doesn’t get said? Why not? The drama—between what is said and what is not—is endlessly fascinating. And interpreting, articulating the silence is powerful.

To Go Deeper

Otto Scharmer argues that listening is the source of all great leadership—and that without great listening, leaders become disconnected from the situation in which they find themselves. His four levels of listening suggest that listening has the capacity to change how you think and how you feel. It can be a form of growth.

For the Joy of It

When I worked in radio, I learned from the producer Michael Heffernan to listen for layers of sound. Sit in a park or a field and see how many individual sounds you can detect: conversations, footsteps, chewing, a newspaper blowing down the streets, birds at dusk. I’m an inveterate earwigger and will sometimes try to piece together the context of an overheard remark. Or use the wonderful Merlin app to identify the birds who are singing. There is always something more…