One theme I’ve been thinking about recently is how bids for connection and understanding are often read as criticism. For example:
Person A shares a new idea, feeling excited and hoping to connect with Person B over something they’ve worked hard on and hold dear.
Person B asks a question about a perceived inconsistency in the idea, feeling excited and hoping for an answer which helps them better understand the idea (and Person B).
Person A feels hurt and unfairly rejected by Person B. Specifically, Person A feels like Person B isn’t willing to give their sincere idea (and effort to connect) a chance, so shuts down and labels Person B as an idea-hater.
Person B feels hurt and unfairly rejected by Person A. Specifically, Person B feels like Person A isn’t willing to give their sincere question (and effort to connect) a chance, so shuts down and labels Person A as a question-hater.
This seems like a huge source of human suffering, and I have been Person A and Person B in different interactions. Does anyone else resonate with this? Do you see things differently?
I think standard advice like the compliment sandwich (the formula “I liked X, I’m not sure about Y, but Z was really well done”) is meant to counteract this a bit. You can also do stuff like “I really enjoyed this aspect of the idea/resonated with [...], but can I get more information about [...]”.
Yeah, I think that part of the training my PhD program offers is learning how to handle and deliver criticism. Besides the common advice of choosing your language carefully, being praiseful, and limiting questions/critiques to zero or one most important area in most settings, my favorite tactic when giving my own presentations is to frontload limitations. Just to be clear (this is frontloading!), what follows is speculation based on my own personal experiences.
When I start presenting my research, I introduce the audience first to the biology (3D genome architecture), then the technology I use to study it (the Hi-C family of assays). That technology is complex and has important limitations (sparsity, averaging over time/homologs/cells).
If I don’t frontload limitations, what’s an informed audience going to be thinking about once I introduce the technology? They’re going to be thinking about those limitations, figuring them out in their own head. “Hey, wouldn’t an assay that works like that end up averaging over time/homologs/cells?”, they’ll think. And while they’re thinking those thoughts, I’ll be trying to push forward into my own projects. So they’ll be irritated by the distraction of trying to think about those limitations while also keeping up with what I’m saying about my projects. They’ll be associating those limitations and that irritation with my projects. And the natural question for them to ask will be about the existence of those limitations, rather than about my findings. Not good.
By frontloading limitations, it alleviates the cognitive burden on the audience of thinking up those limitations for themselves and compartmentalizes the limitations so that the cognitive load of thinking about them isn’t interfering with attempts to understand what I’m saying about my project. They can then ask me questions about the specifics of my project, which is what’s most interesting, what I’m most excited to talk about, and will lead to positive feeling on both sides.
This is really useful information; thank you! I think I will change my approach to presenting my own research based on this comment. I have a limited biology background, but would love to watch a presentation of yours sometime.
Agreed that there’s a lot of suffering involved in this sort of interaction. Not sure how to fix it in general—I’ve been working on it in myself for decades, and still forget often. Please take the following as a personal anecdote, not as general advice.
The difficulty (for me) is that “hoping to connect” and understanding the person in addition to the idea are very poorly defined, and are very often at least somewhat asymmetrical, and trying to make them explicit is awkward and generally doesn’t work.
I find it bizarre and surprising, no matter how often it happens, when someone thinks my helping them pressure-test their ideas and beliefs for consistency is anything except a deep engagement and joy. If I didn’t want to connect and understand them, I wouldn’t bother actually engaging with the idea.
It’s happened often enough that I often need to modulate my enthusiasm, as it does cause suffering in a lot of friends/acquaintances who don’t think the same way as I do. This includes my habit of interrupting and skipping past the “obvious agreement” parts of the conversation to get to the good, deep stuff—the parts that need work. With some friends and coworkers, this style is amazingly pleasant and efficient. With others, some more explicit (and sometimes agonizingly slow, to me) groundwork of affirming the connection and the points of non-contention are really important.
I find it bizarre and surprising, no matter how often it happens, when someone thinks my helping them pressure-test their ideas and beliefs for consistency is anything except a deep engagement and joy. If I didn’t want to connect and understand them, I wouldn’t bother actually engaging with the idea.
I feel like I could have written this (and the rest of your comment)! It’s confusing and deflating when deep engagement and joy aren’t recognized as such.
It’s happened often enough that I often need to modulate my enthusiasm, as it does cause suffering in a lot of friends/acquaintances who don’t think the same way as I do.
I’ve tried the same with mixed effectiveness. In in-person contexts, nonverbal information makes it much easier to determine when and how to do this. I’ve found it’s more difficult online, particularly when you don’t know your interlocutor—sometimes efforts to affirm the connection and points of non-contention are read as pitying or mocking. I imagine this is partially attributable to the high prevalence of general derision on social media (edit: and of course partially attributable to faulty inference on my part).
One theme I’ve been thinking about recently is how bids for connection and understanding are often read as criticism. For example:
Person A shares a new idea, feeling excited and hoping to connect with Person B over something they’ve worked hard on and hold dear.
Person B asks a question about a perceived inconsistency in the idea, feeling excited and hoping for an answer which helps them better understand the idea (and Person B).
Person A feels hurt and unfairly rejected by Person B. Specifically, Person A feels like Person B isn’t willing to give their sincere idea (and effort to connect) a chance, so shuts down and labels Person B as an idea-hater.
Person B feels hurt and unfairly rejected by Person A. Specifically, Person B feels like Person A isn’t willing to give their sincere question (and effort to connect) a chance, so shuts down and labels Person A as a question-hater.
This seems like a huge source of human suffering, and I have been Person A and Person B in different interactions. Does anyone else resonate with this? Do you see things differently?
I think standard advice like the compliment sandwich (the formula “I liked X, I’m not sure about Y, but Z was really well done”) is meant to counteract this a bit. You can also do stuff like “I really enjoyed this aspect of the idea/resonated with [...], but can I get more information about [...]”.
This is always a good reminder :) Thank you!
The post “Butterfly Ideas” seems relevant.
It was definitely relevant! Thank you for the link—I think introducing this idea might assist communication in some of my relationships.
Yeah, I think that part of the training my PhD program offers is learning how to handle and deliver criticism. Besides the common advice of choosing your language carefully, being praiseful, and limiting questions/critiques to zero or one most important area in most settings, my favorite tactic when giving my own presentations is to frontload limitations. Just to be clear (this is frontloading!), what follows is speculation based on my own personal experiences.
When I start presenting my research, I introduce the audience first to the biology (3D genome architecture), then the technology I use to study it (the Hi-C family of assays). That technology is complex and has important limitations (sparsity, averaging over time/homologs/cells).
If I don’t frontload limitations, what’s an informed audience going to be thinking about once I introduce the technology? They’re going to be thinking about those limitations, figuring them out in their own head. “Hey, wouldn’t an assay that works like that end up averaging over time/homologs/cells?”, they’ll think. And while they’re thinking those thoughts, I’ll be trying to push forward into my own projects. So they’ll be irritated by the distraction of trying to think about those limitations while also keeping up with what I’m saying about my projects. They’ll be associating those limitations and that irritation with my projects. And the natural question for them to ask will be about the existence of those limitations, rather than about my findings. Not good.
By frontloading limitations, it alleviates the cognitive burden on the audience of thinking up those limitations for themselves and compartmentalizes the limitations so that the cognitive load of thinking about them isn’t interfering with attempts to understand what I’m saying about my project. They can then ask me questions about the specifics of my project, which is what’s most interesting, what I’m most excited to talk about, and will lead to positive feeling on both sides.
This is really useful information; thank you! I think I will change my approach to presenting my own research based on this comment. I have a limited biology background, but would love to watch a presentation of yours sometime.
Agreed that there’s a lot of suffering involved in this sort of interaction. Not sure how to fix it in general—I’ve been working on it in myself for decades, and still forget often. Please take the following as a personal anecdote, not as general advice.
The difficulty (for me) is that “hoping to connect” and understanding the person in addition to the idea are very poorly defined, and are very often at least somewhat asymmetrical, and trying to make them explicit is awkward and generally doesn’t work.
I find it bizarre and surprising, no matter how often it happens, when someone thinks my helping them pressure-test their ideas and beliefs for consistency is anything except a deep engagement and joy. If I didn’t want to connect and understand them, I wouldn’t bother actually engaging with the idea.
It’s happened often enough that I often need to modulate my enthusiasm, as it does cause suffering in a lot of friends/acquaintances who don’t think the same way as I do. This includes my habit of interrupting and skipping past the “obvious agreement” parts of the conversation to get to the good, deep stuff—the parts that need work. With some friends and coworkers, this style is amazingly pleasant and efficient. With others, some more explicit (and sometimes agonizingly slow, to me) groundwork of affirming the connection and the points of non-contention are really important.
I feel like I could have written this (and the rest of your comment)! It’s confusing and deflating when deep engagement and joy aren’t recognized as such.
I’ve tried the same with mixed effectiveness. In in-person contexts, nonverbal information makes it much easier to determine when and how to do this. I’ve found it’s more difficult online, particularly when you don’t know your interlocutor—sometimes efforts to affirm the connection and points of non-contention are read as pitying or mocking. I imagine this is partially attributable to the high prevalence of general derision on social media (edit: and of course partially attributable to faulty inference on my part).