[humanser] The Power of Being an Introvert in a World That Can't Stop Talking

[Susan Tabor]

This sounds like a good read! Thanks, Mary Ann!
Peace,
Susan

-----Original Message-----
From: humanser-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:humanser-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Mary Ann Robinson
Sent: Thursday, August 23, 2012 6:22 PM
To: Human Services Mailing List
Subject: [humanser] The Power of Being an Introvert in a World That Can't
Stop Talking

The Power of Being an Introvert in a World That Can't Stop Talking
  August 20,
  "Mom, you're reading that, too!?" My 23-year-old-son, home for a visit,
was astonished to see that each of us had picked up the same book: Susan
Cain's Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking.
It immediately gave us something to-well-talk about.
  Forget the paradox that one of Cain's goals in writing her informative
exploration is to get introspective types like my son and me to give a
shout-out for ourselves.  (It put me in mind of the oxymoronic cry,
"Anarchists, unite!") The very fact that Cain's celebration of strength
through soft-spokenness is on the bestseller list suggests we've been
listening (quietly) for a long time, baby, awaiting someone like Cain to
speak up for us.
And she definitely provides a hefty boost of self-esteem to anyone who lives
by the principle that you take in more by listening than by interrupting.
  Indeed, from chapter to chapter, Cain champions bright students like my
son, who lost grade points every semester of his school career for not
raising his hand enough (or, as he put it, for refusing to be a loudmouth).
She validates introspective types like me, whose lifelong passions include
reading, playing music, and taking long walks (preferably in a national
park).  She delivers some long-overdue respect to the "geeks" and "nerds"
and "eggheads" of the world.  And she does all this with more than enough
smarts and charm to demonstrate that we really are quite delightful
souls-once you let us get a word in edgewise.
  In making her case (the author practiced corporate law before switching
careers to teach negotiation skills and write), Cain uses a broadly
encompassing "cultural" (as opposed to a narrower, more psychological)
definition of the quiet temperament.  An introvert, Cain writes, is someone
"who recognizes him- or herself somewhere in the following constellation of
attributes:
reflective, cerebral, bookish, unassuming, sensitive, thoughtful, serious,
contemplative, subtle, introspective, inner-directed, gentle, calm, modest
solitude-seeking, shy, risk-averse, thin-skinned." Cain contrasts this quiet
type with the man- or woman-of-action type, whom she describes as
"ebullient, expansive, sociable, gregarious, excitable, dominant, assertive,
active, risk-taking, thick-skinned, outer-directed, lighthearted, bold, and
comfortable in the spotlight."
Cain admits these are extremes; most of us fall somewhere in the middle of
the spectrum, holding attributes of both types.  But her characterization
still sounds like mild-mannered Clark Kent versus man-of-steel Superman.
  Yet the exaggeration also feeds into Cain's larger point: that, for all
our emphasis on diversity, our culture doesn't do a good job of respecting
temperamental differences.  Indeed, too often we assume that the loudest,
most outspoken person in the room is the smartest and most competent-and, to
our later regret, we disregard the wisdom voiced by quieter souls.  As a
society, we worship Superman; we ignore Clark Kent.  We need to recognize
the relative strengths, and weaknesses, of both.
  Cain organizes her analysis of the pros and cons of introversion and
extroversion around answers to two basic
questions: How did it happen that our nation came to value the extrovert
personality above all others? What are the cultural and social implications
of our contemporary American obsession with the hail-fellow-well-met persona
in every realm of public life, from business to politics to education?
  Cain traces the evolution of our taste in heroes from the 19th century,
when the public admired, above all else, the character of the taciturn
pioneer (perhaps best epitomized by the young Henry Fonda playing the young
Lincoln), to the talk-show culture of today, which equates cheerleading with
leadership and speaking fast and loud with being right.  This was propelled,
she believes, by the rise of our commodity-driven (and now
service-driven) economy.  To get ahead, you need to sell and keep on
selling; you need to master the power to persuade, to put on a convincing
show, and to close the deal.  Thus, in the transition from the 19th to 20th
centuries, Lincoln, as a model, was overtaken by P.  T.  Barnum and Dale
Carnegie.
  In more recent decades, as the importance of who you know has increased
even more in proportion to what you know, so has networking and making a
"good" (i.e.  extroverted) impression grown ever more pertinent to getting
ahead.  In the contemporary paradigm of how to succeed in business (or just
about anything else, it seems) without really trying, personality trumps
character every time.
  Just how pervasive the ethos of extroversion has become emerges from
Cain's visits to such varied institutions as the Harvard Business School and
Pastor Rick Warren's Saddleback Church in southern California.  At Harvard,
where study groups and group socializing are a way of life, she meets
introverts who feel pressured to spend as little time alone as possible-and
to talk up as often as possible.  At Saddleback Church, she interviews a
cerebral evangelical pastor who struggles to find a comfortable role for
himself in an organization that expects its leaders to be enthusiastic and
outgoing.  At both places, it seems, sociability is viewed as a higher
virtue than solitude.
  One of the most disheartening aspects of the culture of extroversion, Cain
finds, is the credence it gives to the widespread assumption that it's
always better to work study think brainstorm as part of a team or in groups
than to go it alone.
But research tells a different story.  For instance, in theory, offices that
do away with doors and private spaces will promote team bonding and
cooperation.  The actual outcome is higher turnover of employees, who are
less productive (because of the increased noise and interruptions) and more
insecure (because of the worry that others are eavesdropping on their
conversations).
  Then there's the idea that we learn more efficiently from one another in
groups than individually.  In some cases, perhaps, but study after study
demonstrates that creativity, innovation, and expertise are much more robust
when work is pursued in solitude with deliberate focus.  As for the highly
touted process of group brainstorming, psychologists have repeatedly shown
it doesn't work, for three reasons.  As Cain explains, "The first is social
loafing; in a group, some individuals tend to sit back and let others do the
work.  The second is production blocking; only one person talks or produces
an idea at once, while the other group members are forced to sit passively.
And the third is evaluation apprehension, meaning the fear of looking stupid
in front of one's peers." The result: what Cain calls "The New Groupthink,"
a style of learning that encourages conformity, while discouraging marching
to one's own drumbeat.
  Ultimately, the extroversion bias finds its most distressing manifestation
in parents who worry that their quiet, introspective children aren't
measuring up to their ideal of successful (i.e.  outgoing) personalities.
Rather than pathologizing their children's temperament, Cain wisely advises
Mom and Dad to "step back from their own preferences and see what the world
looks like to their quiet children." Recognize that the social whirl may
stress out your kid, even if it stimulates you.
Cain also suggests strategies for adult introverts who are seeking to make
their way in a world of extroverts.  Many are lessons in self-confidence or
pep talks on letting go of self-consciousness.  These include getting used
to socializing by starting in small doses; finding places to decompress
before and after speaking in public; scheduling brief, private, quiet times
into your day; thinking of yourself as a "fake" extrovert and playing the
role.
  None of these tips is profound, and Cain can overstate her case.  Her
examples of great introverts in history can seem to include every admirable
person ever born.  I wish she'd delved further into how time and experience
can affect temperament over a long life span.  She uses herself as an
example of someone who, through practice, has learned to mold an outgoing
exterior to cover up a natural reserve.  As someone who's gone on a somewhat
similar journey, I wanted to ask how much was "overcoming"
reserve, and how much was simply a matter of learning, with time and
practice and positive feedback, to be less self-conscious and less awkward
socially? Rather than new insights, Cain just seems to be recycling Dale
Carnegie.
  Still, Cain's message is a much-needed corrective to our cultural
enchantment with extroversion.  Her book makes for a good way to start the
conversation-and may just provide an opportunity to interrupt someone
else's.
  Diane Cole, the author of the memoir After Great Pain: A New Life Emerges,
writes for many national publications, including The Wall Street Journal.
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