sense of the situation, we listen so we know when to insert our opinion, and we tend to be focused on our own needs and judgments. This is not bad; it just means we are inward.
Level two listening is when we shift our awareness back to the other. We notice what they say, how they say it and can mirror it back to the other in a way that suggests we are very present and empathetic. We listen to understand.
Level three listening accesses a higher level of intuition that goes beyond what we hear or see. When we can listen at this level, we are paying as much attention to the environment, not as a distraction, but as another way of knowing. We pick up on energy, what is said or not said, and we trust all our senses. It is noted that expert musicians, comedians, and facilitators are at their best when they stay at level three. They can create a level of understanding not just for themselves, but for the other(s).
Listening and silence seem to go hand in hand, and yet they are different.
I have a good friend, Paul, who is a master of silence. He takes it all in, listens, smiles, nods, and occasionally expresses a “hmm” or an “aw.” He says little but receives everything. He does not always make eye contact, but it is evident in his posture and presence that his silence is not quiet. When he does decide to speak, I lean in and listen; I call this the Silence that Connects.
There is no one definition to describe this type of mastery, and it certainly goes beyond the highest level of listening. According to the Enneagram, which is a model of the human psyche that profiles a typology of nine interconnected personality types, these individuals may be type “nine” and are best described as peacemakers.[4] In healthy states, they are emotionally stable, serene, accepting, and at ease with self and life. They are profoundly receptive and can be quiet, listen, and use silence as a way of connection. In 1974, a scholar named Johannesen compiled all the different meanings of silence. In his compilation, he would describe this meaningful type of silence as an empathic exchange or the companionship of a shared mood. When we are with people who use silence to connect, we feel heard without words, welcomed without invitation, and valued without measure. There is something reassuring when a leader possesses this type of mastery in silence—there is a powerful desire to emulate and follow. Queen Elizabeth II, General Colin Powell, Abraham Lincoln, Princess Grace of Monaco, and even Walt Disney possessed these qualities. When in healthy states of mind, they created peace in silence.
On the opposite extreme are those whose silence is marked by a sullenness or unexpressed anger. They exude an energy that suggests disagreement or resentment. Long ago, I heard someone describe resentment as your failure to honor a request that I never actually made. We can punish that perceived failure with the silent treatment. There is far different energy between the silence of deep reception in the first example and this silence of resentment; which I am calling the Silence that Separates.
The silent treatment can be more harming and violent than pure lashing out.[5] However, many see silence as taking the high road, or as Michelle Obama quipped during the 2017 presidential campaign, “When they go low, we go high.” It is a grand strategy that we argue is full of grace and dignity. But this approach can backfire when dealing with critical relationships. The silent treatment, even when brief, activates a part of the brain that detects physical pain. The psychological torture from ostracism can outlast a bodily injury. Regardless of the recipient’s personality or the sender’s status, the silent treatment can inflict a great deal of invisible bruising. Most in leadership would not last long if they (a) regularly said hateful things to their direct reports or (b) caused physical bruises on the bodies of their employees. Yet leaders tend to use silence or silent treatment as a powerful weapon against those who disagree or fail to meet expectations. Sometimes those expectations are spoken, and often they are not.
I once worked with a female leader who was a master of the silent treatment. My team members and I would whisper that it was just a matter of taking turns. There was always at least one of us on her list of disapproval. She would handle us in similar ways. She would sit next to us at meetings versus across the table as it allowed her to avoid eye contact. Once in her seat, she tilted her chair in the opposite direction, so all you got was the literal cold shoulder. I remember being on the tail end of her disapproval but unable to help myself when she came to a meeting wearing a suit that I thought was pretty incredible. I told her shoulder that she looked nice, and it appeared everyone heard the compliment. The head of the table, several chairs away from me, agreed and echoed my praise. However, she did not look my way or acknowledge me.
When leaders use the silent treatment, it can be argued that they are trying to maintain a separation. They want to isolate themselves as it gives them a sense of enhanced status. This is not that dissimilar to a person of privilege looking down their nose at someone less fortunate. To speak words is below them. And yet, this behavior can be psychologically annihilating to another.
We describe these people as arrogant, icing others out, snobbish, condescending, pompous, haughty, conceited, nose-is-in-the-air (hope it doesn’t rain)—you get the idea. When this behavior is demonstrated by a leader, there is an unspoken internal assumption. Their value is only maintained based on a sense of superiority. They have a (un)conscious belief system that to be worthwhile, they need to highlight the weakness in others. To show care or concern would mark them as vulnerable or drop their guard to an unacceptable level.
When we experience these behaviors from someone we are supposed to follow, there are several different things that can happen. Our first reaction is often surprise or shock, followed by angst and anger. We cannot seem to rationalize what just happened. We often move to a coping strategy of trying harder or showing a greater sense of compliance to feel re-accepted. If it works, we find ourselves behaving in more careful ways moving forward and often censoring voice or behaviors that could lead to repeated ostracism. If re-inclusion does not result from our overly cooperative action, we reach a place of resignation that can lead to alienation and feeling like we have no options.
Many of the women I interviewed for this research described the powerful ways in which non-verbal behavior from others caused immeasurable pain. A lack of eye contact, conversations going quiet when entering a room, mocking gestures, or feeling ignored for weeks on end were just a sample of things I heard expressed. These were silences that punished and isolated. Unfortunately, it is never quite clear how intentional the behavior is without the use of language.
As human beings, we do not need a lot of training to recognize the difference between the first example of receptive silence that is born from the desire to connect and the silence that is born in resentment or the need to isolate. Sometimes these silences are conscious and sometimes not. The first type of silence sends a message of love and acceptance. The second carries a message of exclusion. Yet, no words are used—just some simple “mms” or “ahs,” or slight shifts in the body. Silence is always full of meaning.
Between these two extreme categories, are many examples in between that fall into the category that I call the Silence that Confuses. Figure 1.1 demonstrates the spectrum.
Types of Silence
What is missing in these categories is the level of awareness we bring to each type. I can be raptly attentive to something and lose all track of time—it is unconscious. I can also, with a great deal of skill, choose to avoid something that has made me angry. In truth, every one of these examples of silence can be used to an advantage or disadvantage. It requires a level of intentionality.
Although we all know how it can stink when a leader consistently operates at the lowest level of (self-centered) listening, we have to recognize that this stance can be necessary. There’s no harm in listening in a self-centered way, especially when you find yourself in a new or frightening situation. When I am listening to a medical diagnosis, when I’ve
