On the Lost Art of Refined Communication

Centuries ago, refined communication was an art form practiced not just by literary giants, but by everyday people. Their letters, even the mundane ones, reveal a world of elegant turns of phrase and veiled allusions. Perhaps you've encountered these yourself, in the faded elegance of a treasured heirloom letter – a testament to a bygone era where even the most ordinary correspondence brimmed with grace and artistry. Their recipients, adept at deciphering allusions and reading between the lines, found pleasure in the complexity. Today, however, the art of subtlety has waned; the prevailing advice is to be direct if you wish to be understood. The recipient, it is said, lacks the time for nuance and implication. This shift has led us to simplify our language, forsaking the elegance, wordplay, and layered meanings that once enriched our communication. No one questions why the burden of accommodating time constraints falls on us, or why we must strip our texts of their graceful intricacies.

You might argue that behind the grandiloquence of high style, there could have been base manifestations of human nature. Exactly! That was the added irony—veiling the basest impulses under a veneer of grandeur and pseudo-romanticism. High epistolary style is often associated with arrogance, richness, and skillful concealment of true motives and desires. Were people more naive back then? Definitely not, especially considering how adeptly they could mask intense cynicism in their letters, and, as we know, veiled cynicism and sarcasm are hallmarks of intelligence.

In contemporary times, when training programs and centers promote courses on how to "put others in their place without insults or use subtle tactics to belittle without foul language”, it highlights a mere shadow of the basic skills that even the minimally literate possessed in past centuries. Furthermore, the suggested responses are so coarse and simplistic that they crumble under any scrutiny.

As a child, I once wrote a poem with the line "brevity is the destroyer of presence." Considering what communication has become in most countries today, this can truly be called a tragedy. While I cannot speak for others, I find myself fondly recollecting an era that, despite coinciding with the early days of personal computing and the internet's infancy—complete with the distinctive sounds of dial-up connections—still valued the art of tangible correspondence. In those memorable times, I engaged in the practice of writing to pen friends, a pursuit that brought immense joy and satisfaction. My process was one of careful preparation and execution. I would select pristine sheets of A4 paper, their surfaces unblemished by pre-printed lines. With attentive care, I would place a grid sheet behind these blank canvases, its faint guidelines ensuring the precise alignment of my penmanship. Equipped with a fountain pen, I would compose my letters with deliberate elegance, striving for a neat, handwritten script and assiduously avoiding any errors or blotches. These carefully crafted missives would then be entrusted to the postal service, often accompanied by thoughtfully chosen additions. A vintage postcard might be included, or perhaps a pressed and dried leaf, carefully preserved. On occasion, I would compose a poem on a separate piece of paper, a personal touch to complement the letter itself.

The recipients of my letters, kindred spirits in this epistolary exchange, would respond in kind. Their replies would arrive on fragrant pages adorned with equally meticulous handwriting, each letter a testament to the time and consideration invested in its creation.

This delightful practice predated the widespread adoption of digital communication platforms such as AOL or MSN Messenger. Reflecting on it now, I recognize it as a truly special period, one that combined the thoughtfulness of traditional correspondence with the anticipation of emerging technologies.

Recently, I sent an official written inquiry to 25 universities in the country I am currently residing in, seeking information about the required documents for a Doctor of Education program. Not a single institution responded. Additionally, several universities had invalid email addresses, resulting in undelivered messages. Eventually, I resorted to contacting them via WhatsApp (when in Rome...), but again, no response followed.?

A recent Reddit discussion questioned why the entire world, except for Western and Northern Europe, Australia, the USA, and Canada, predominantly uses WhatsApp for business communication—selling services and products. According to the original poster, there is no more inconvenient and unprofessional medium than WhatsApp, where even a short message splits into three parts with a "read more" button if it exceeds a few dozen characters. This makes communication almost impossible, especially since in many developing countries, people favor WhatsApp calls and voice messages in their language. This preference persists despite the challenges faced by foreign clients in understanding incoherent, poorly articulated speech recorded in noisy environments on subpar devices, often in local dialects. Yet, even universities now resort to such informal communication tactics. Similarly, in business communication, I recently wrote to a student's mother about her progress, my recommendations, and inquired about her return from summer camp. A few days later, the parent merely dispatched a single-word WhatsApp message—"sent"—along with the belated transfer of funds for the lesson.

Many would argue that the brevity in modern communication reflects the times we live in, where texts are sent with high levels of compression. However, I contend that true compression involves skillfully reducing content while preserving both meaning and emotional depth. A good example of this is found in haiku or six-word stories, such as the classic: "aspirations compromised by procrastination, then children." This succinctly conveys an entire life story and the author's attitude towards it. What we face today, though, is a decline in education, a diminished ability to read thoroughly, and a lack of attention to others. The issue today extends beyond individual readers and senders; it lies in the prevailing trend that makes me worry whether my text will be read if I write at length, let alone include multiple questions in a single message.

There are glimmers of hope in this otherwise bleak landscape. Recently, my coach, Anna B Sexton sent me a follow-up message after a session in which I mentioned I wouldn’t adopt some of her suggestions (which were purely illustrative and advisory). In her message, she reassured me that I had done well in being frank and upfront with myself about the resistance I was noticing to concepts, ways of working, and the overall process on the course. She noted that I was finding what was right for me alongside the barriers in the way to progress over time, as every individual does. Anna then commended me highly for my ability to self-reflect and hold myself accountable, emphasizing that these were precious personal qualities needed to be a successful entrepreneur in any field. Anna informed me that she had attached notes from our session and concluded by stating that she would see me the following week. She instructed me to come prepared to share my successes, insights, and action steps from the notes, along with any additional work I could accomplish to further my progress.

Despite my obstinate and thoughtless behavior, wherein I neglected the counsel of experts and persisted with my less effective approach to the project, Anna's response was both thoughtful and considerate. While others might have dismissed my choices with a casual "It's your project; do as you wish," Anna's profound words and professional demeanor not only reassured the client but also underscored her expertise, fostering a greater sense of comfort and trust.

Anna exemplifies exceptional professionalism with her clear and refined approach, demonstrating the importance of attentiveness and consideration towards clients. It goes beyond mere diplomacy or political correctness; she harnesses the power of language to transform challenging client interactions into motivation for advancing their projects.

In reflecting on the evolution of communication from the refined eloquence of bygone eras to the often brusque exchanges of today, we find ourselves at a crossroads. The art of nuanced expression, once a hallmark of educated discourse, has largely given way to a culture of brevity and directness. This shift, while ostensibly serving the demands of our fast-paced world, has come at a cost to the richness and depth of our interactions.

Yet, as exemplified by the coach's thoughtful response, all is not lost. There remain individuals and instances where the power of well-crafted communication shines through, demonstrating that attentiveness and consideration in our words can transform even challenging interactions into opportunities for growth and understanding.

As we move forward in an increasingly digital age, perhaps the challenge lies not in choosing between the flowery prose of the past and the stark efficiency of the present, but in striking a balance. We must learn to harness the best of both worlds – the depth and nuance of traditional communication with the clarity and accessibility demanded by modern times.

In doing so, we may yet revive the lost art of refined communication, adapting it to serve our contemporary needs without sacrificing the beauty and power of well-chosen words. The future of meaningful discourse depends not on the medium we use, but on our willingness to invest time and thought into our exchanges, recognizing that in an era of information overload, true connection and understanding are more valuable than ever.

P.S.: I encourage readers to explore the essays penned by Alexander Bain available at https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/17522/pg17522-images.html. Should you find upon reading any of these essays that the language of a bygone era presents challenges, requiring you to revisit passages to fully grasp their meaning, or if reading them takes longer than a typical email or magazine article, it may reflect the pervasive influence of our fast-paced, soundbite-oriented society, typified by WhatsApp voice messages and elevator pitches.