What about the leader you have struggled to connect with for the past six months? She has been subtle with her criticism, and you cannot figure out what she expects. You worked very hard on a proposal and submitted it a week ago. It has been crickets chirping ever since. Why has she not responded? Too busy? Too indifferent? Is she punishing you? Her silence is sending a strong message—but which one?
When you bring home a new puppy, or you are raising a three-year-old, silence during their waking hours always suggests something terrible is on the verge of happening. We rush in to explore the root of this silence (often armed with paper towels). Then there are those never appreciated periods of silence after an argument with your spouse or partner. These stretches of time can last hours or days. We would have to be mighty foolish to assume the silence is neutral. It is most likely dripping with hurt, shame, anger, or perhaps all the above.
There are quotes all over the internet suggesting silence is a powerful scream. It is rarely empty but full of something. Silence is deadly; silence is dangerous; silence kills; silence cannot be misquoted. Oh, but it can!
As human beings, we are meaning-making creatures. We perceive and analyze in ways that are rarely the same between two people. Our silences may not communicate an impending death—although I have heard that no one plans a murder out loud. But the truth is—silence is never void of meaning and silences are always communicating something. The question we have to ask is whether our silences are intentional or unconscious. If they are deliberate, then what are we trying to convey and is the intended receiver of our silences picking up on the correct meaning? If our silences are unconscious, we have an even greater opportunity for miscommunicating. In a leadership role, this can be hazardous.
Researchers have explored the concept of silence from a communication, cultural, and gender perspective. There are at least twenty different potential meanings of silence that include agreement, disagreement, sulking, fear, uncertainty, and awe.[1] All these various meanings and interpretations suggest we need to give the concept of silence far more respect and attention then perhaps we have imagined is necessary. We need to understand the distinctions of silence and how they differ from what it means to feel silenced.
I love the word “distinctions”! I like to say it, and I want to think about ways I can develop and master new distinctions. A distinction suggests there is something contrasting between two similar things. Owners of distinctions are viewed as separate and excellent. Once we own a substantial distinction—we are more likely to call ourselves an expert in something.
When I married my husband Brad, I declared shortly after our nuptials that we should strive to become wine snobs. I envied people who could study, swirl, taste, and spit out a sip of white or red wine and then discuss the different flavors and substance of the grape. They owned a distinction. Brad happily obliged, and after lots of practice, he started picking out wine labels based on his memory of taste and quality. He quickly passed me by as he developed his distinctions with Zinfandel, Malbec, and Pinot Noir. I, unfortunately, could not build his same distinctions because my pallet did not pick up on the subtle differences in flavor. I love wine, but after twenty-plus years of responsible sampling, I still have limited distinctions. I will never be an expert.
My daughter is a musician and has played the piano since she was six years old. When she first began to play, I knew enough about music to tutor her, and I recognized when she played the wrong keys. I was holding an entry-level distinction with scales and music. Fast forward more than a decade, Grace can perform an advanced sonata over and over until she believes she has mastered the correct timing and rhythm. My husband and I just hear the same song over and over, and do not notice much difference. We lack the distinctions she has built over the years. She has the expertise we are unable to match.
My best friend is an art instructor. She can look at a canvas that another instructor created and deconstruct the art strokes to teach it from scratch to a new class. She owns an artist’s distinction. My oldest stepson majored in film studies. When he watches a movie, he picks up on camera angles and filming techniques that my brain is not trained to see. He studied and worked hard and now owns a distinction.
Sometimes we have natural distinctions, and we quickly pick up on things with ease. Other times we are limited in our ability based on physical or cognitive constraints. However, when it comes to the distinctions of voice and silence—everyone can own and develop these. It is not just available to those who have PhDs in human development or linguistics. Your use of voice and silence can mature as you pay attention to your choices and intention. I believe that every leader or aspiring leader must make this a priority. Distinctions within voice are fully covered in the following chapters. Before we can master voice, we must first understand what keeps us from voice. How are we using silence?
Distinctions in Silence
One way we develop a distinction is to create levels of understanding. For those who know wine, there are charts to describe PH or alcohol levels. Since I never established my much-envied wine distinction, my graph would probably be a continuum of how empty or full my glass is compared to the stress of my week. Near empty, or level one might be a concern (or panic); level two or half full is preservation; level three or full equals bliss. We like categories—it helps us make sense of our world.
A widely recognized category or continuum of listening is an oldie but goodie in Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, first published in 1989.[2] He outlined five levels of listening. Levels one through four were described as being within one’s own frame of reference. At the lowest level was ignoring; then pretending to listen; then selective listening; and finally, attentive listening. However, level 5 listening involves transitioning away from our own frame and entering into the other’s frame of reference. Covey called this empathetic listening.
In 2009, the leadership coaches of the world embarked on deepening their expertise with client interactions and built on Covey’s work by simplifying the five levels of listening back into three.[3] They reasoned that Covey’s levels one and two were not true listening. The new level one was categorized as listening to respond, and the emphasis was on self. We ask questions to make sense of the situation, we listen so we know when to insert our opinion, and we tend to be focused on our own needs and judgments. This is not bad; it just means we are inward.
Level two listening is when we shift our awareness back to the other. We notice what they say, how they say it and can mirror it back to the other in a way that suggests we are very present and empathetic. We listen to understand.
Level three listening accesses a higher level of intuition that goes beyond what we hear or see. When we can listen at this level, we are paying as much attention to the environment, not as a distraction, but as another way of knowing. We pick up on energy, what is said or not said, and we trust all our senses. It is noted that expert musicians, comedians, and facilitators are at their best when they stay at level three. They can create a level of understanding not just for themselves, but for the other(s).
Listening and silence seem to go hand in hand, and yet they are different.
I have a good friend, Paul, who is a master of silence. He takes it all in, listens, smiles, nods, and occasionally expresses a “hmm” or an “aw.” He says little but receives everything. He does not always make eye contact, but it is evident in his posture and presence that his silence is not quiet. When he does decide to speak, I lean in and listen; I call this the Silence that Connects.
There is no one definition to describe this type of mastery, and it certainly goes beyond the highest level of listening. According to the Enneagram, which is a model of the human psyche that profiles a typology of nine interconnected personality types, these individuals may be type “nine” and are best described as peacemakers.[4] In healthy states, they are emotionally stable, serene, accepting, and at ease with self and life. They are profoundly receptive and can be quiet, listen, and use silence as a way of connection. In 1974, a scholar named Johannesen compiled all the different meanings of silence. In his compilation, he would describe this meaningful type of