[acb-hsp] The Power of Being an Introvert

[peter altschul]

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.