On Clarity
Seeing and Hearing Beyond Ourselves
So much of what we think, what we say, and what we do depends on how clearly we see and hear. Garbage in, garbage out, goes the mantra. Our vision and hearing are impaired by our biases, including our bias towards placing ourselves in the center of other people’s stories. Unless we make a conscious effort to see past ourselves and our biases, we cannot understand other people’s suffering or other aspects of reality. That effort requires discipline, humility, and constant vigilance.
As a young lawyer still learning the art of examining witnesses, I was taught the importance of listening to their answers to my questions, which frequently can lead to new and fruitful areas of inquiry. And not just listening; observing their demeanor as they answer questions is just as important. That proved true in one of the first cases I tried to a jury in the late 1980s.
My client was a businessman who had just had a new home built in a wealthy Boston suburb. Not long after he and his wife moved into the house, the roof began to leak. There was nothing wrong with the asphalt roofing shingles; the problem was that the builder installed them incorrectly. Failing an early attempt to settle the case, we sued the builder.
The instructions for installing the shingles were written on their cardboard packaging, which became an important exhibit both at the builder’s deposition and at trial. The deposition occurred in my firm’s downtown office. The builder arrived with his lawyer, the court reporter administered the oath, and I began to examine him. At one point during the deposition, I had the court reporter mark one of the boxes that had contained the shingles and showed it to the witness. I then began asking him questions about the installation instructions. He was struggling to answer my questions. When I watched him fumbling with the exhibit, I soon realized the source of his difficulty, and asked him a question I never had anticipated asking.
“Mr. X, can you read?”
I don’t remember if his answer was a blanket “no,” or if he qualified it in some way, but the bottom line was that he was illiterate. From that fact, which I arrived at only by careful observation, I concluded, correctly or not, that he had not installed the shingles properly because he was unable to read the instructions.
The builder’s admission struck me in the moment as a key point I could exploit to win the lawsuit. One of my wiser senior partners pointed out to me later that doing so could turn the jury’s sympathy against my client and towards the builder. He was right, of course. I ended up winning the trial without having to unduly embarrass the builder about his lack of education in front of the judge and jury.
I learned two lessons from that experience. One was that being a good lawyer also means exhibiting compassion when the situation calls for it. (I like to think that quality comes naturally for me, but sometimes my competitive spirit overshadows it.) The other was that, if we are too caught up in our own agendas and biases (in the roofing case, the detailed outline of examination I brought with me to the deposition) to observe other people’s behavior and listen to their voices, we will miss some core truths about them. And missing those truths invevitably leads to misunderstandings, false assumptions, lost opportunities at connection, and in some cases, avoidable conflicts. Opening our eyes and ears to other people’s truths is the only way we can truly perceive reality.
A few years ago, I posted on my blog (which shares a name with this newsletter) a true story about an experience I had with a person who sat next to me on a flight, and how my observations of his behavior moved me from my initial self-centered reaction to his annoying fidgeting in the adjacent seat (it was all about me, after all) to sympathy and a simple act of friendship (when it became, rightly, about him). It is one of my favorite posts on the blog, and I hope you will read it. I include a link below.
Returning to the trial, there was, for my client and me, a surprisingly pleasant ending to the story. After the jury returned the verdict in my client’s favor, he treated me to lunch at a well-known restaurant in Cambridge, Massachusetts (where the trial had taken place) called Michaela’s, named after its owner. As we waited for our meal, we noticed a woman hastily darting around the restaurant, directing the staff and attending to various details. When she neared our table, my client called her over, and she confirmed that she was indeed Michaela. She was very pleasant, but also rushed and apologetic. She explained: “Please excuse me, but Julia Child is coming for lunch today and I want to make sure everything is perfect.” A few minutes later, Ms. Child did indeed enter the restaurant, and my client’s and my happy day in Cambridge was complete.
And now, as promised, the link to my blog post.
And one more link, to a popular song from the early ‘70s that is sure to boost your mood.