How Can I Be Clear, When Nobody Let's me Speak?

     Nietzsche wrote:

     “Those who know that they are profound strive for clarity. Those who would like to seem profound to the crowd strive for obscurity.”

     This is one of the most important truths I have come across. And as with all pieces of brilliant wisdom, it says so much with so little. It is true to the very statement it makes.

     And so, in complete disregard of the very spirit of this wise quote, I will proceed to write a whole blog on the matter.

     Hey, I never claimed to be wise.

     First, I want to recognise that achieving clarity is incredibly difficult, and possibly a futile pursuit in the long term. Language is really a clumsy method for communicating thought – we do our best with it, and we do pretty darn well, all things considered. But, when you really look at it, even the masters of language have failed miserably, over and over, to clearly explain what was on their mind. Misinterpretation is a thing.

     And language doesn’t just get misinterpreted by people, it inevitably gets misinterpreted by time. The meanings of words change, context illuminates things in a different light, cultures act as filters to add all sorts of wacky tints to the colour of a thing.

     We really struggle to be understood by others. I’m a writer, and I don’t even know what I’m saying most of the time!

     But the striving for clarity is the important part. One can only do one’s best.

     See, did I really need to use “one” then? I could’ve said “we,” or “you.” Which would have made my point clearer? And did I sound wiser because I said “one”?

     That flows neatly into my next thought. I understand the story that leads to this wielding of obscurity as a weapon – it is very human to seek validation, to want to be valued. My sympathies may rapidly disappear once a person attains a position of power, where they can do real damage with this weapon, but the path that led them there is clear.

     Take me, for example.

     I’d be lying if I told you I write for one hundred percent clarity. I try to, more and more these days. I figure, if I cannot strive for complete honesty in my writing, where can I do so? I have thoughts. I want to make them as clear as I possibly can.

     But there is a sneaky devil called Ego that likes to whisper in my ear sometimes, too many times. It says, “you could make that sentence prettier, ya know,” or, “bit dry, don’t ya fink? How ‘bout makin’ em laugh, to freshen fings up a bit, aye?”

     (Why the hell, did that voice started turning into a Cockney accent?)

     Anyway, that sneaky bugger sometimes manages to hijack the writing, and put an emphasis on the aesthetic of it. It wants to be liked. It needs to be acknowledged.

     So I get it. I understand we have a drive to garner attention. It is entwined in our evolution, being the social animals we are. Like the peacock’s feathers, we stand up and shout “look at me! I am here, and I matter!”

     Intelligence is a grand feather to flaunt. But the mere illusion of intelligence will often do just fine (cough, cult leaders, cough!)

     I will address the bad actors and beguilers another day, I think. For now, allow me to return to the first line of Nietzsche’s gargantuan statement, being the “striving for clarity.”

     If there is any truth to what I’ve so far written, then the task of achieving clarity of thought is far from a walk in the park – it is more likened to climbing Everest upside down with a goat on your back.

     So, like any difficult skill, we have to practice. Unlike other skills that we can train at alone, practising clarity of thought requires a specific kind partner – a generous, considerate and patient partner, no less.

     Yep. It turns out it’s just as hard to really listen to someone, as it is to speak clearly. And it requires the same dedication to practice.

     First of all, lets look at the price of any form of belittlement in conversation. And, unless I’m way off base, I think this is quite prevalent in our world. The fear of looking stupid is a very real thing, and conversations are often used to “score points.” Perhaps the intent is just light ribbing; oftentimes, the belittler isn’t even aware of what they did.

     Either way, the results are clear. A person afraid to speak, for fear of seeming dumb, is in danger of two significant end points:

     One, they become more desperate, and more dedicated to “winning the game” of conversation, succumbing to the venom of the Ego and becoming a negative transmitter to those in their circles of influence.

     Or two, much more tragically, they give up. They concede to the fact that they will never be understood, they accept isolation, they submit to silence.

     These are perhaps the extremes of the spectrum, but in all the threads of conversation we have with all those in our lives, how many such concessions have we made? How many conversations are we silencing through our ignorant behaviours, even with those closest to us?

     For fear of rambling too much, (I’ve already gotten quite lost in this rabbit hole), I will end with a positive thought, and way forward.

     I know what it is like to be made to feel stupid. I’m sure most of us can. We learn it from each other. We need to stop that. We need to garner environments where there is no fear of asking dumb questions, or making clumsy attempts at communication. We need to give each other space to work out what is going on their heads, and we need to encourage them to keep making attempts.

     We especially need to do this for those who we can see are being silenced.

     Of course, this can be a taxing thing to do. Like anything, one must wisely pick one’s battles, or risk exhaustion, even madness. There’s only so much one can gain from listening to the Armageddon preacher on the bridge to Adelaide Oval – his thesis is quite clear, in any case.

     Perhaps we can start with those we care the most for – our everyday encounters of communication. Perhaps those of us who contribute a lot of noise to our surroundings (I’m a guilty party, I know) can strive to be more generous with our ears. A little self-examination and honesty in this vein can often times prove quite illuminating.

     There is something profound to be discovered in all of us, the simple desire to be understood. So let us encourage each other to strive for clarity, rather than obscurity.