Supercommunicators: How to Unlock the Secret Language of Connection

“Like interest-based bargaining, the What’s This Really About? conversation succeeds by transforming a conversation from a tussle over where the dialogue is going into a collaboration, a group experiment, where the aim is figuring out what everyone is seeking and the goals and values we all share.”

By comparing an adversarial conversation to a “tussle” and then contrasting it with a conversation that is more of a “collaboration” and a “group experiment,” Duhigg highlights the shift from a competitive dynamic to a cooperative, exploratory one. The What’s This Really About? Conversation (See: Index of Terms) is thus not about winning or losing, but about finding common ground and understanding.

“Boly and Ehdaie understood that matching isn’t mimicry; it’s not simply looking concerned and repeating back what others have said. Rather, matching is understanding someone’s mindset—what kind of logic they find persuasive, what tone and approach makes sense to them—and then speaking their language.”

Duhigg clarifies here that the matching technique isn’t about “mimicry,” or mindlessly mirroring what someone else says or thinks, but about trying to foster a genuine understanding of someone’s “mindset.” In making this clarification, Duhigg underscores that effective communication depends on grasping and adapting to the thought processes and preferences of others.

“Emotions have been at work since you sat down, shaping how you react, how you think, why you’re here in the first place. However, you can glide over the sigh, let the pride pass unacknowledged. You can minimize How Do We Feel? and stick to safer territory: The shallows of small talk.”

In this quote, Duhigg employs a conversational tone to engage the reader directly, as if he were speaking to them in person. He uses the second-person pronoun “you” to create a sense of immediacy and personal connection. In this passage, he highlights The Importance of Depth and Vulnerability in conversation by addressing the choice individuals face when deciding whether to delve into emotional territory or remain in the “safer,” yet shallower, realm of small talk. He argues that avoiding emotional conversations keeps interactions superficial and prevents deeper connections from forming.

“To get deep, we have to make an offering of our vulnerability. ‘The louder the emotion, the more likely that contagion will occur,’ Amit Goldenberg, a Harvard psychology researcher, told me. ‘And vulnerability is one of our loudest emotions. We’re hardwired to notice it.’”

In calling vulnerability an “offering,” Amit Goldenberg suggests that sharing one’s vulnerability is a gift or sacrifice that is necessary for fostering emotional intimacy, reflecting The Importance of Depth and Vulnerability in communication. By incorporating the views of a Harvard psychology researcher, Duhigg lends academic credibility to his argument and reinforces the idea that vulnerability is a powerful catalyst for emotional contagion. The use of the adjective “loudest” to describe vulnerability emphasizes the intensity and attention-grabbing nature of this emotion. Duhigg further reinforces this idea by stating that humans are “hardwired” to notice vulnerability, suggesting that it is an innate and instinctive response.

“When my father died a few years ago and I told people I had recently attended his funeral, some of them offered their condolences. But almost no one asked me any questions. Instead, they quickly moved on to other subjects. The truth was, I was desperate to talk about what I had been through, about my dad, about the eulogies that had made me so proud and sad, about how it feels to know I won’t be able to call him with good news.”

In this quote, Duhigg demonstrates his own teachings by sharing a deeply personal and vulnerable experience. By disclosing his father’s death and his own emotional struggle in the aftermath, Duhigg puts into practice the concept of offering vulnerability to create a meaningful connection with his readers. This personal anecdote serves as a persuasive device, as it demonstrates the author’s commitment to the principles he advocates throughout the book.

“From infancy, even before we learn to speak, we absorb how to infer people’s emotions from their behaviors: Their body language, vocal inflections, glances and grimaces, sighs and laughs. As we grow older, however, this capacity can atrophy. We start to pay increasing attention to what people say rather than what they do, to the point where we can fail to notice nonlinguistic clues […] ignoring hints that someone might be, say, upset—crossed arms, creased brow, downcast eyes—and instead focus on their words when they say, It’s nothing. I feel fine.”

In this passage, Duhigg employs a contrasting structure to highlight the difference between how one naturally perceives emotions in infancy and how this ability can deteriorate as one ages. The author also uses imagery, such as “crossed arms, creased brow, downcast eyes,” to illustrate the nonverbal signals of upset that one might overlook when focusing solely on spoken language. By juxtaposing these visual cues with the verbal dismissal “It’s nothing. I feel fine,” Duhigg emphasizes the potential disconnect between what people say and what they truly feel, underlining the importance of attending to nonverbal communication.

“Laughter might seem like a strange place to look for emotional intelligence, but, in fact, it’s an example of a basic truth of emotional communication: What’s important is not just hearing another person’s feelings but showing that we have heard them. Laughter is one way of proving that we hear how someone feels.”

Duhigg argues here that emotional communication is not just about perceiving feelings but also demonstrating that understanding. The author emphasizes the word “showing” to underscore the active nature of this process. By presenting laughter as a form of proof that one has heard someone’s feelings, Duhigg suggests that emotional intelligence involves a reciprocal exchange, in which both parties engage in a dynamic of expression and acknowledgment.

“When we laugh together, it’s not just the laughter that’s important. It’s similar intensities—the evidence of a desire to connect—that is critical. If someone gives a half-hearted chuckle while we are doubled over with laughter, we’re likely to sense their tepid enthusiasm and see it as a hint we’re not aligned, ‘a signal of dominance/submission or acceptance/rejection,’ as Provine wrote.”

In this quote, Duhigg dives deeper into the nuances of laughter as a form of emotional communication. He stresses that the mere act of laughing together is not enough; It is the matching of intensities that truly matters. The author contrasts being “doubled over with laughter” with a “half-hearted chuckle” to illustrate how mismatched laughter intensities can signal a lack of alignment. By quoting Provine, Duhigg once again cites an academic source to support his assertions.

“In one study published in 2016, participants who listened to one-second recordings of people laughing could accurately distinguish between friends laughing together, and strangers trying to laugh alike. Laughter, like many nonlinguistic expressions, is useful because it’s hard to fake.”

Duhigg presents empirical evidence supporting his claims about the authenticity of laughter as an emotional signal. He then generalizes this point to other nonlinguistic expressions, suggesting that their value lies in how difficult they are to feign. This reinforces the argument that genuine emotional connection relies on authentic nonverbal communication.

“So how do we signal to others that we’re trying to connect? How do we show others we’re listening to their feelings, and not just mimicking what they say and how they act? The answer starts with a system that has evolved within our brains, a kind of quick-and-dirty method for gauging other people’s emotional temperature that we usually rely upon without consciously noticing it. This system comes alive whenever we encounter another person, and it functions by pushing us to pay attention to their ‘mood,’ or what psychologists refer to as valence, and their ‘energy,’ or arousal.”

In this passage, Duhigg employs rhetorical questions to engage the reader. He then introduces the concept of an evolved neural system for assessing others’ emotional states, using the colloquial phrase “quick-and-dirty” to suggest that this process is efficient but not necessarily precise. The author emphasizes the automatic and subconscious nature of this system, highlighting how it operates without one’s conscious awareness. By introducing the psychological terms “valence” and “arousal” and equating them with the more familiar concepts of “mood” and “energy,” Duhigg makes these ideas accessible to a general audience while maintaining a sense of scientific authority.

“But the organizers wanted this conversation to be different. They wanted to see if they could get everyone to start sharing personal stories about guns and gun control, the emotions and values underlying their beliefs, and then see if that might change the tenor of the debate. In other words, they wanted to foster a How Do We Feel? conversation, in the hopes it might neutralize the poison that usually contaminates these discussions.”

Duhigg offers an example of a How Do We Feel? Conversation (See: Index of Terms) by citing a discussion between gun control advocates and gun rights advocates. He emphasizes the organizers’ desire for a different, more emotionally open conversation. In trying to create more productive dialogue through having participants open up to one another and actively listen to one another’s stories, the organizers hoped to create a better environment for Navigating Sensitive Conversations.

“Regardless of how frequently some people battled, they said they were still fulfilled by their marriages, happy with their choice of spouse, and reported no thoughts of divorce or lingering rancor after a fight. Their conflicts were storms that appeared and then dissipated, leaving behind only blue skies. For other couples, however, things were very different. In these relationships, even small conflicts often turned poisonous. Mild arguments became screaming battles. Reconciliations were mere pauses in ongoing wars, the hurt and anger just waiting for another spark.”

Duhigg here cites research from the 1970s and ’80s about married couples and their fights to illustrate the importance of effective conversation techniques. He asserts that while both happy and unhappy couples had fights, the difference between the two groups was how they conducted those fights. While effective communication helped keep marriages stable and happy, ineffective communication led to continuous tensions and less satisfaction.

“If we focus on controlling ourselves, our environment, and the conflict itself, then a fight often morphs into a conversation, where the goal is understanding, rather than winning points or wounding our foes.”

Duhigg draws a contrast between a communication motive based on “winning points or wounding our foes” and “the goal [of] understanding” to emphasize the shift from a combative, adversarial mindset to one of empathy and mutual comprehension. The overall tone is one of encouragement and empowerment, suggesting that individuals have the ability to shape the course of a conflict by focusing on the right things.

“Trying to force someone to listen, or see our side, only inflames the battle. Instead, it is far better to harness our craving for control so that we’re working together, cooperating to find ways to lower the temperature and make this fight smaller. Often, that cooperation spills into other parts of our dialogue, until we find ourselves looking at solutions, side by side.”

Duhigg likens a heated exchange to a “battle” to illustrate the counterproductive effects of trying to force someone to listen or agree. The verb “inflames” suggests that such attempts only intensify the conflict, making it more heated and destructive. In contrast, he refers to “harnessing” a craving for control, likening it to a powerful force that can be directed towards a more positive end. The final image of individuals “looking at solutions, side by side” emphasizes the theme of collaboration and partnership in resolving conflicts.

“In a Who Are We? conversation, people sometimes latch on to a single identity: I am your parent or I am the teacher or I am the boss. In doing so, though, they hobble themselves, because they start to see the world solely through that one lens.”

Duhigg here discusses a Who Are We? Conversation (See: Index of Terms) to highlight how some conversations are connected to a person’s sense of identity or belonging to a particular group. The author also uses parallel structure in the examples of identities (“I am your parent,” “I am the teacher,” “I am the boss”) to emphasize the commonality of this tendency across various roles and relationships. He argues that understanding when someone’s sense of identity is in play can help when Navigating Sensitive Conversations.

“People are parents but also siblings; experts in some topics and novices in others; friends and coworkers and individuals who love dogs but hate to jog. They are all of these simultaneously, so no one stereotype describes them fully. Everyone contains multitudes that are just waiting to be expressed.”

Duhigg highlights the multifaceted nature of human beings. By presenting these opposites side by side (“parents but also siblings,” “experts in some topics and novices in others”), the author emphasizes the complexity and diversity within each individual. The final sentence, “Everyone contains multitudes that are just waiting to be expressed,” is an allusion to Walt Whitman’s poem “Song of Myself,” in which the poet celebrates the vastness and contradictions within the self. This literary reference underscores the theme of embracing the full range of one’s identities.

“But it didn’t wholly shock Mousa because she wasn’t asking them to redefine themselves. She was simply making an identity they already carried—soccer teammates—more salient, and as a result their religious identities were a little less loud.”

Duhigg uses the example of a soccer team in Iraq comprised of both Muslims and Christians to illustrate an important aspect of The Psychology of Connection. The team’s organizer, Mousa, fostered a sense of connection and understanding by helping Muslims and Christians connect through shared identities as soccer players and teammates, which in turn allowed their religious differences to become less important. This reinforces Duhigg’s broader argument that viewing identity as multifaceted can help with easing tensions and us-vs-them dynamics in communication.

“Similarities become powerful when they are rooted in something meaningful: Two people may both be friends with Jim, but that’s not much of a connection—until they start talking about what his friendship means to them, how Jim is an important part of both their lives. A group of people may all be Lakers fans, but that only becomes powerful when they share what it felt like, for each of them, to go to games with their parents and watch Magic score, how they share the memory of that thrill.”

Duhigg uses a hypothetical scenario involving a shared friend named Jim, using a dash to create a dramatic pause and emphasize the contrast between a superficial connection and a deeper, more significant one, thereby invoking The Importance of Depth and Vulnerability. Duhigg repeats this structure with the Lakers example, reinforcing the theme that shared experiences and emotions, rather than mere facts, create powerful bonds.

“Identity threat isn’t unique to the workplace, of course. It can occur anywhere: At a party, inside a bar, during a conversation with a stranger while waiting for the bus. Nor is it uncommon, as Slepian and Jacoby-Senghor found. Of the more than 1,500 participants who took part in their study, only 1 percent had not encountered a recent identity threat.”

In this passage, Duhigg uses a rhetorical device called exemplification to illustrate the pervasiveness of “identity threats” (See: Index of Terms) in various settings. By providing specific examples of where identity threats can occur, such as “at a party,” “inside a bar,” “while waiting for the bus,” he makes the concept more accessible to a general audience. Additionally, Duhigg uses statistical evidence from Slepian and Jacoby-Senghor’s study to support his claim that identity threats are common, further emphasizing the importance of the topic.

“Identity threats typically emerge because we generalize: We lump people into groups (‘Lawyers are all dishonest’) or assign others traits they loathe (‘Everyone who voted for that guy is a racist’). These generalizations take all of us—our unique perspectives and complicated identities—out of the conversation. They make us one-dimensional.”

Duhigg uses examples and parenthetical statements to illustrate how generalizations contribute to identity threats. By providing concrete instances of generalizations, such as “Lawyers are all dishonest” and “Everyone who voted for that guy is a racist,” he helps the reader understand how these statements can be harmful and reductive. The use of the first-person plural pronouns “we” and “us” attempts to create a sense of inclusivity and collective responsibility, suggesting that everyone is susceptible to making these generalizations. This passage reinforces the idea that stereotyping strips individuals of their complexity and uniqueness, which can create further difficulties when Navigating Sensitive Conversations.

“Discomfort pushes us to think before we speak, to try to understand how others see or hear things differently. Discomfort reminds us to keep going, that the goal is worth the challenge.”

By stating that “discomfort pushes us to think” and “discomfort reminds us to keep going,” Duhigg emphasizes the potential benefits of embracing discomfort in difficult conversations. The parallel structure in “to think before we speak” and “to try to understand how others see or hear things differently” underscores the importance of both self-reflection and empathy in navigating challenging discussions. The motivational tone of the passage, particularly in the phrase “the goal is worth the challenge,” encourages readers to persevere through the discomfort.

“Companies, like societies, will always have disagreements. Compromise is not always possible, or sometimes even the goal. Often the best we can hope for is understanding. It is through understanding, and dialogue, that a community, and a democracy, thrives. When we create space to discuss conflicting beliefs, we make connection more likely.”

Duhigg employs a simile comparing companies to societies, suggesting that both entities inevitably face disagreements. The repetition of “understanding” emphasizes its importance as a realistic and valuable outcome of Navigating Sensitive Conversations, even when total agreement proves elusive. The passage’s hopeful tone, particularly in the final sentence, “When we create space to discuss conflicting beliefs, we make connection more likely,” encourages readers to engage in challenging conversations, even if they don’t result in compromise.

“Across the decades and surveys, similar findings emerged again and again: The happiest participants called others regularly, made lunch and dinner dates, sent notes to friends saying they were proud of them, or wanted to help them shoulder sad news. Most of all, happy participants engaged in many, many conversations over the years that brought them closer to others.”

Duhigg cites some of the key findings of Harvard Study of Adult Development (See: Background), listing actions regularly performed by the happiest participants, such as calling others regularly and sending notes to friends. He argues that these findings support the idea that meaningful connections and conversations with others are the biggest determinants of individual happiness, reinforcing The Importance of Depth and Vulnerability when forming social bonds with others.