The gift of conversation

That revolutionary and talkative flow ended up in Rome. Cicero, a political leader and thinker, inherited the same fascination for words woven in common. He stated that “whoever engages in conversation should not prevent others from entering, as if it were his own private property; he should think that, as in everything else, in general conversation too it is fair that there should be turns.” His writings were not conclusive essays, but rather dialogues with several voices in which he played only a small role and which ended without a clear winner. Cicero, a great connoisseur of the intricacies of power and at the same time a lover of philosophy, was trained in the debate of ideas, which helps us find archipelagos of agreement among the oceans of disagreement.

Following the ancient discoveries, the Renaissance gave rise to a new stage of talkative passion, now led by women. In intellectual circles, ladies grew tired of the coarse and ostentatious behaviour of courtiers, who strutted like fighting cocks. The movement sprang up in the main Italian cities, spread to France and England and finally to the rest of Europe and America. In the face of arrogance, another ideal was born: courtesy, delicacy, tact and culture. The most imitated model was that of Madame de Rambouillet, who invented the chamber orchestra of conversation at the beginning of the 17th century. She taught her contemporaries to filter their ideas through other people’s minds. Their gatherings gave life to epigrams, verses, maxims, portraits, panegyrics, music and games. Above all, they overthrew the model of debate aimed at crushing others: they agreed that seriousness would be light, that reason would listen to emotion, that they would practice courtesy without stifling sincerity. Although this standard of taste and refinement was the privilege of aristocratic circles, those salons—almost always led by wise hostesses—gave shelter to enlightened ideas. At times, the dialogue became vain and pedantic, delighted with its own luster, to the point of deriving into fake mannerisms, but that custom left a valuable legacy: the culture of conversation. According to the essayist Benedetta Craveri, what was extraordinary about those salon conversations was that they aspired to clarity, moderation, elegance, and respect for the self-esteem of others.

These humanist paths offer routes to today’s challenges. We still need to learn the art of speaking to each other with respect, even among strangers, aware of the impact of our words on the sometimes fragile balance of the mood of others. In the last century, philosophers such as Martin Buber or Emmanuel Levinas thought that, in essence, we are beings of encounters: the self emerges from dialogue with a you, the other, the different. Real conversation between two people who listen to each other is the best tool to break down barriers in a world as unequal as it is divided, where the absence of communication is becoming a major problem submerged in silence. Prolonged isolation damages health and, if it continues over time, the suffering of not being able to speak freely, without masks or fear of incomprehension, can lead to states of anxiety. A growing number of young people are beginning to confess that they suffer from unwanted loneliness, when it used to be the age group least threatened. The feeling of distance, frustration, pressure and lack of warmth in encounters with other people is spreading. Of watching the days and life go by from a glass prison or behind the trench of a screen, where no one can reach you. An essential key to understanding the outbursts and howls of our time is that anger that can be mitigated by listening or, on the contrary, stirred up in a spiral of aggression.

All authentic collaboration requires conversation, those dialogues where, while we play with ideas without judging each other, we forge alliances. Collective action gains strength when we are able to verbalize our weaknesses and complexities. Without fear, assuming the risk, because by listening we run the risk of being convinced. In fact, “to converse” comes from the Latin I will speak“spin”. It refers to living together, converging, but also changing, turning around in company. In some way, con-versing is an activity of political and poetic significance – weaving verses with other people. Instead of weaving living words, we crouch behind our expensive screens to avoid speaking face to face. Telephones silence us more often than we silence them. While our fingers write hypnotized to a distant face, we do not look at those around us: we are wasting experiences, leading failed escapes. The problem with this golden age of communication and information is that we have not yet learned to talk to each other. We humanize and love our devices, while we are increasingly mechanical with other people. The mistake was to believe that technology would teach us to converse. For the algorithm, a person is reduced to a mere “client”, “follower” or “user”. When the digital network traps us in niche markets, and political shouting locks us into opposing camps, the old invitation to dialogue keeps alive the hope of opening cages, calming stridency and building encounters. Perhaps more than ever, the preservation of the community depends on conversation.