The Case for Human Communication

A few blogs ago, I was on the receiving end of a “heckler”.

This was the first on my blog and, mercifully, the heckler was actually fairly tame. Being called a pensioner is not altogether flattering (I am not quite that old), but neither did it send me spiralling into a fit of depression.

However, what I found most interesting was not the style of insult but rather with what Anonymous took umbrage. To summarise: I made a comment about how, on a non-smoking train, I was amongst a group (of non-smokers and smokers) who bonded by mocking (behind his back) a man blatantly flouting this rule roughly every 30 minutes by hiding in the toilet, and whose fixed smile and aroma on exiting gave the impression of having a stronger herb than tobacco in his cigarette. Anonymous found my attitude very 20^th Century, and thus questioned my superannuitant status.

Again, the tone of the message was not what caught my attention. The fact Anonymous read through my entry and picked up on that one (minor) point and (from her (or his) perspective) appeared to take this as testament to a firm belief on my part on the wrongness of smoking (and/or pot), and felt the need to criticise this stance really brought home why I quote Oscar Wilde on my blogspot page.

To be truthful to Anonymous, I am not a smoker. To be fair, the smoker on the train was the object of some scorn, mainly for his blatant disregard of the train rules. But for further honesty, while I am not going to sing from the church steeple about the wonders of smoking, neither do I disassociate myself from those who indulge. As to the wacky baccy, well, in principle I don’t see much difference between that and “normal” cigarettes (though I know there is a difference in law).

The point though is that I had never intended that sentence to be a judgement on smokers and the act of smoking (I will save that for another entry). But, evidently, someone out there interpreted what I wrote that way. Or at least, that is how I have interpreted their response.

Which brings me back to the title of this entry: human communication. In particular, the written language. How do we get it all so wrong?

I have to admit, time and again, I make the mistake in assuming that the written medium is a trustworthy means of communication. It isn’t. Not because a missive may be poorly written or of dubious merit, but mainly because the writer and the audience are completely different people (for the most part).

How many times on blogs (or in e-mails) has one seen “that’s not what I meant” answer? How many innocuous e-mails have required clarification or led to all sorts of strife between friends or between workmates (I have been caught in the middle of one of those and it was not pretty)? There are even articles on how the written word can be misconstrued and how to avoid misunderstanding.

And the reason is because words can mean more than one thing; sentences, as strings of words, compound the problem; and paragraphs, well, we are talking logarithmic scales of comprehension issues here.

As Oscar Wilde points out, we can never approach anyone else completely impartially. We approach and try to understand everyone else through our own lens. We interpret actions and words based on what we know of others and ourselves. Subsequently, we can never really know that other people will understand the things we say the way we intend them.

For example, I take a person with a PhD in biology fairly seriously when it comes to discussions on that topic, but am more inclined to believe the argument of a Darwinian rather than an Intelligent Design supporter because of the way I happen to view the world.

On less contentious matters, I tend to judge the opinions other people proffer on their blogs in the context of what I know about that person. I can find the contribution of people I don’t know fascinating and intriguing; but when trying to weigh up the more ambiguous or unsubstantiated claims, there is no context to actually give meaning to what is written. Anonymous, for example, is obviously very erudite and has a good grasp of popular culture (though she (or he) assumes I have one too). But I have to base my mental “context” picture of Anonymous on the comments posted, which leads me to conclude she (or he) is probably a smoker, possibly of pot, and a daily denizen of the blogosphere, which in return influences how I read her (or his) comments.

Understanding the context is important in every day life. It helps one understand irony and hypocrisy, and gives meaning to fairly obscure concepts. But it is even more important on the blogosphere where all that is known of bloggers and commentators is based on the few lines written down – or, to be more accurate, typed out. How an individual perceives someone through their blog – or their e-mail – is based on that individual’s interpretation of events, the individual’s worldview, and what the individual expects others to mean and say. Other people react completely differently. Some people take a broad view of a complete message; others get picky about the small points. I tend to mix and match.

The written word has proved its limitations time and again, and the blogosphere itself has been found wanting. While the internet age has given everyone a voice and the chance to be heard, it can’t guarantee that those who are listening will understand. What is worse though is that there are always those who will choose not to understand, and those who will never try to understand other people with different points of view.

Verdict: Everyone is other people. And everyone signs a slightly different tune. So how useful are blogs in really helping other people’s understanding of each other? A hung jury on that one.