Apologies for interrupting, my fellow introverts. I know how much you value your silence. How you despise small talk. How you break into a cold sweat at the prospect of engaging in everyday banter. So forgive this intrusion. I'll try to keep it short.
I have magnificent news.
Just when you thought the world was becoming insufferably noisier, humanity is finally learning to shut up.
Hard to believe, I know. But according to American researchers, the average number of words we utter each day has fallen by almost 25 per cent over the past decade. The decline is even greater among younger people.
Fingers crossed, my constantly chattering daughter will soon adopt the trend.
Using audio recorders to eavesdrop on the conversations of thousands of test subjects between 2005 and 2019, researchers found the average number of words spoken daily by participants dropped from more than 16,000 words to 12,000.
This dramatic decrease has led to predictable hand-wringing among social scientists, who blame the digital world, particularly our smartphone obsession, for the decline in spoken words.
We text instead of talking. We message instead of mingling. Psychologists warn the fabric of "human connection" is fraying, that the so-called "art of conversation" is dying.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Introverts know the truth. This is a hard-won victory for peace and quiet.
Those missing 4000 words have not been stolen from deep and meaningful late-night philosophical conversations with soulmates. They have been trimmed and excised from the useless banal dialogue plaguing modern life; the inane babble about the weather, the dull chatter with neighbours, the awkward prattle with colleagues in the lift.
Small talk is dying, my friends. Feel free to celebrate this silent revolution by having a good lie down in a quiet room.
Let us praise, not criticise, the influence of modern technology. No longer do we need to pull over, ask a stranger for directions and endure their mind-numbing preambles. Google Maps doesn't scratch its chin, ask how you're going, lament the lack of local rainfall and then point north and tell you to go south before taking a left at the abandoned bakery six blocks away.
No longer must we establish painful eye contact with shop assistants at the checkout. Food apps and automated delivery systems don't ask how our day is going or care about our weekend plans. And more of us working from home means fewer excruciatingly painful discussions at the office coffee machine about footy scores and grandchildren we'll never meet.
Psychologists claim small talk acts as a social lubricant. It's certainly a crutch for dialogue drunks - those who, intoxicated by the sound of their own voice and terrified by the prospect of quietness, regard silence as an empty room in urgent need of furnishing.
We introverts, on the other hand, have always believed that small talk occurs when silence loses its nerve. Besides, we were taught as children to never speak to strangers. Why do it as an adult?
It's not that we're antisocial. We simply regard the invention of noise-cancelling headphones as one of the greatest achievements in human history, second only to the mute button on the remote control.
So you can understand the pain I endured for four gruelling years when I co-hosted a breakfast radio show. I remain flummoxed to this day about why they gave me the job. I tried to warn them it was like appointing a vegetarian as chief taste tester in an abattoir cafeteria. But in an industry devoted to talking no one would listen.
Oh, the irony. An introvert in the world of talkback. Guzzling mammoth amounts of caffeine at 4am provided the courage to face the microphone. Surprisingly, I came to enjoy the job and made friendships with many listeners that continue to this day.
Still, every morning I went to work with the same sense of dread as a scuba instructor allergic to bottled oxygen.
So here's to the demise of small talk. We really should be celebrating by spreading the word.
But we know better. Let us simply enjoy the wonderful sound of silence.
HAVE YOUR SAY: Has the digital revolution made the world a quieter place? Are you an introvert and detest small talk? Or are you an extrovert who loves a good chinwag? Email us: echidna@theechidna.com.au
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THEY SAID IT: "I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude." - Henry David Thoreau
YOU SAID IT: Finding himself griping about the cold after returning from Asia, John flipped the switch and focused on what was great about coming home, including the fact Australia remains one of the world's most liveable countries.
"I was also delighted to recently return from sweaty Singapore-Penang-Kuala Lumpur, albeit after three attempts to land through the pea-souper unwilling to lift over Canberra," writes Daniel." After the return to Sydney and back and forth for a fourth attempt, even the five-hour delay did not dampen our excitement to be back in the best country in the world. In the same way Geoff Mack's 'I've Been Everywhere' - man, I have. Austria comes closely behind as an easy-going place for Aussies to live. But there are no kangaroos in Austria."
Helen writes: "Welcome back, John. I think to some extent we are a nation of whingers. An American friend recently complained to a group about a couple of things and then commented that she was getting to sound like an Australian with her whingeing! How embarrassing. And we sure don't realise how well off we are, all things considered, unless we have travelled. It doesn't seem to matter where or how recently, there are signs in most countries that we have it much better in so many ways. It would be great if we could appreciate all the good things about Australia, while at the same time trying to improve the other things."
Maree remembers returning to Australia after three years living in Los Angeles, breathing dirty air and battling traffic. The drive back to sleepy Canberra from Sydney stands out. "It was April, the autumn was colourful that year. As we reached Northbourne Avenue, the colours of the trees were so striking. The sky was a brilliant blue and the air was so fresh, each time we stopped at lights I opened the window to feel it and breathe it. Clearly not a thing to do in LA.There really is no place like home, and when home is Australia it further reminds me that we truly are the best country in the world by far. Most of us who have had the privilege to travel outside of it recognise it."
"I think Australians generally take our liveability for granted," writes Sue. "Whenever a war zone is shown on TV news, I wonder how Australians would cope with having their cities destroyed around them and being desperate to save their families. Some of us have forgotten how to appreciate what we've got - until it's gone or seriously threatened! My children have grown up without living through a war or having our way of life affected by the depth of hatred that affects other countries. I guess complacency and whingeing are side effects of living in near utopia!"
Debbie writes: "Love this and frankly we all need a nudge every so often to wake up to what we have and take for granted. We are so incredibly lucky."
"I think whingeing can have benefits," writes Deb. "As we know, the large majority of politicians and other wealthy people have no understanding of the struggles faced by ordinary people in their daily lives. Ordinary people can really only be heard through having a collective whinge - think of the trade unions fighting for better pay and working conditions. If ordinary people didn't whinge, the people in power certainly wouldn't do anything off their own bat to help them."
Peter the sourpuss (his word) writes: "Yes I do take it for granted. I live on the NSW Far South Coast. I usually have our beautiful beach to myself - maybe two other people and a dog to keep me company. School holidays have me whining about all the trespassers on my idyllic lifestyle. My wife calls me the Christmas Grinch."
"We are becoming One Nation of whingers but many of them see the clouds yelling at the old guy," writes Mick.
Jeanette writes: "We do take our liveability for granted. When was the last time any of us had to walk 6km to collect water which more often or not contains toxic bacteria and which has to be drunk simply because there is no choice?"
"After seven months travelling the world all I wanted was the big Australian skies and the fresh, clear, cool air," writes Sue H. "I still call Australia home and aren't I so very lucky?"
Brad writes: "Yep, love the travel. But the cruise ship entering Sydney Heads or walking out of customs at (for now) Kingsford Smith, always elicits an involuntary sigh of relief. Mind you, the train trip to Wollongong often takes longer than the trip back to Sydney."
