Talking the talk

“Let’s go around and say our names, majors and residential colleges!” she said with a radiant, but nonetheless unconvincing, smile.

Small talk, or the art of talking about nothing, is not a foreign concept to most, if not all, Princeton students. It’s one of the key ingredients to mastering, let alone surviving, social life here — the better and more cogently you can small talk, the longer you’ll survive.

However, this has not always been the case historically. For much of the 20th century, small talk was given little import or respect, and deemed the lowest form of conversation. Anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski perceived it as merely a way to fill silence.

But that’s not the case across all cultures. In some cultures, notably in the Middle East, conversation cannot be sustained without small talk. After a slew of redundant greetings and questions about the occupational, financial and marital status of every member in your nuclear and extended family, only then will small talk give way to actual conversation. In fact, it is considered curt and looked down upon to altogether skip small talk. The inability to partake in and keep up this social ritual is seen as a sign of poor communication skills and even lack of intellect. My own evasion of small talk has elicited countless sardonic remarks from family and friends overseas.

Now, compare that to a largely Western proclivity toward getting straight to the point, with a short greeting and immediate transition to the actual reason for which you struck up conversation in the first place. It’s largely cursory, even monosyllabic: “Hey,” “What’s up?” “Good, you?” “Fine, thanks.”

One would imagine that Princeton would fit into this representation. However, this game of “survival of the fittest” (or rather, chattiest) has evolved into a culture of being social just for the sake of being social. Socializing is less of a choice and more of an enforced norm, and small talk is the popular route in any and all situations, be it passing by a student you haven’t talked to in weeks, visiting a professor’s office hours, attending a post-lecture reception or even going out with friends.

At many of these events, many like to talk simply for the sake of being heard, or at least seen. It’s not important whether we know the person intimately or whether we actually want to get to know him/her; it’s all about introducing ourselves and being introduced, all part of a larger game of networking. And often the alternative — not participating in small talk — can lead to exclusion, and a disinclination toward small talk generally equates to missing out on social interaction.

The solution doesn’t lie in reforming small talk or highlighting the dichotomy between “small” talk and “big” talk. (On that note, does “medium” talk exist, too?) Choosing to ask a stranger about his views on religion and faith, or any of the 15 Republican presidential candidates won’t change the attitude driving the conversation. Only getting rid of small talk will, so that not every encounter is just another opportunity to network. Meeting people is now equivalent with networking, initiating conversation with social climbing. The culture of conversation has been perverted.

At this point, I should probably introduce an alternative to small talk after such a denunciation, but I have no alternative to offer. I understand we want to fill the silence or even forge a bond with someone, but as Mahatma Gandhi once said, “Speak only if it improves upon the silence,” not simply your social standing.

So until the day comes when knowing my residential college or rambled-off list of extracurriculars will provide for a compelling conversation, I will remain averse to small talk (and circumstances which require or merit small talk.)

Sarah Sakha is a sophomore from Scottsdale, Ariz. She can be reached at ssakha@princeton.edu.