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

[Mary Ann Robinson]

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.