Last week, while teaching my Fashion Law class at Polimoda, something unexpected happened. We were deep into a conversation on contract negotiation when, almost without realising it, we ended up talking about active listening.
If you’ve never heard of it, the idea is quite simple. It means listening… actively.
Which sounds basic. But it isn’t.
So how do you do it?
There are plenty of techniques.
Paraphrasing. Summarising. Mirroring. Avoiding judgment. Nodding at the right moment. Picking up on tone. Noticing body language. Making open questions. I could go on for hours…
Entire handbooks have been written on the subject.
To make it easier, imagine this: two people sitting in front of each other. One speaks, the other listens. Not just hears, but listens. Fully. With presence. With care.
No smartphone. No distractions. Maybe just a handbook filled with notes, but even that only if necessary. And always with permission.
That quality of attention is the real core of active listening.
And yet, I have to admit something.
There’s always been a part of me that hasn’t fully bought into it.
I still remember when I expressed this remark at the negotiation workshop at Harvard, almost ten years ago.
A decade later, and after countless negotiations both as a trainer and a participant, I still feel the same.
I remain, in some ways, sceptical.
Why?
Because when you “do” active listening, part of your brain is already busy somewhere else.
You’re thinking.
Planning your response.
Rephrasing the other’s words.
Wondering if your body language is doing enough.
Should I mirror this? Should I summarise that? Am I nodding too little or too much?
It becomes a performance. A helpful one, yes. But still a performance.
So is active listening better than not listening at all?
Absolutely.
Do people like it when it’s done well?
They do. Often more than you’d expect. People are so used to not being listened to that even a few simple signs of presence can make them feel seen, heard, valued.
Does it improve with practice?
Yes. Like driving a car.
Eventually, it becomes automatic. Even when your focus drifts, something in you keeps it going.
Still, when I think of real listening, with the capital L, I imagine something else.
I see a Zen monk sitting on a mountain.
Eyes closed. Still. Silently receiving the words of the person in front of him.
Listening not to respond. Not to reframe or impress. Not to be right.
He might offer you a life-changing insight when you finish speaking.
Or he might not.
He might simply listen.
I’m not sure one way is right and the other is wrong.
But I do know this: alongside techniques that work in the boardroom, there’s another form of listening – quieter, deeper, and far more difficult to master – that might just work in life.
And perhaps, that’s the one we’re most in need of.
