In any given meeting it’s almost guaranteed there will be some individuals who say very little or perhaps even nothing at all. They will sit there and observe the others, smiling occasionally, watching for cues of interaction, marvelling at the speed with which some people appear to vocalise their thoughts.
Today, I attended a ‘village health committee’ meeting in a
relatively isolated village, and I observed exactly this phenomenon again. The
committee was made up of twelve elected members, each of whom represent the
village’s health affairs and, essentially, coordinate the health affairs of
their village, with support from our organisation. I was fortunate to be a
guest of honour in the meeting and I sat next to the village administrator,
delivering a set of questions about the formation of the committee, the village
health needs, and their future aspirations. In this regard, despite the meeting
being held entirely in the Myanmar language, I was able to participate and in a
sense direct the course of the meeting’s topic.
Of the twelve attendees, however, I soon noticed that only
three people were regularly talking, almost jumping over each other to offer
one of their gems of wisdom. This included the facilitator of the meeting and
two other men. The others were mostly nodding, watching the speakers closely, smiling
enthusiastically, and laughing at all the right moments. It got me reflecting
about the nature of meetings and also the assumptions we make about
personalities in social situations. It was very easy amongst the group to defer
decisions and insights to the talkative ones, as though their fast-hitting
ideas were good by virtue of the speaker’s quickness and verbal fluency. But there
was no reason to think they were particularly insightful or as important as
anyone else’s would have been (at least, I don’t have the evidence otherwise)
it’s just that talkative people often seem
more impressive. I soon realised the participation of only a quarter of the people
was not getting the most out of everybody. It was the equivalent of playing a
football match and only letting the goalkeeper and two defenders touch the ball
(mathematically almost correct, arguably, because the goal keeper isn’t an
out-field player).
Because this meeting phenomenon is so common (and because I
understand that roughly 30-50% of all people in the world are introverted, more
or less, depending on where you live[1]),
this sort of thing should be expected. So something clearly needs to change –
and it sure shouldn’t be the personality types of introverts any more than it
should be extroverts. Smaller groups and an understanding facilitator would be
a start, I suppose. Using the principle of consultation is a key factor too. I
personally get frustrated when agendas aren’t stuck to, because this allows
some people to talk about whatever pops into their heads, a bit like children
chasing bubbles. I tried saying whatever popped into my head once and ended up
talking about one-eared dogs in space; but it still probably seemed impressive
to people listening.
Until quietness is recognised and accounted for, I worry
that the other half in the corner will remain quiet and their equally important
and intelligent ideas, arguments and choices will remain unnoticed. And your
football team will continue to be merely a trio of average players.
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