A person with high social intelligence has a set of ‘antennae’ that are strong enough to be a guide for what will give another more comfort than pain.
We are used to thinking of “intelligence” as a single entity. But it’s not so simple. To be sure, we have IQ scores and other measures of a person’s capacity for understanding abstract ideas and processing information. But traditional measures of intelligence are notoriously imprecise. The term itself is difficult to operationalize, something that must happen with any “objective” measure. It’s thus problematic to saddle an individual with a number that is supposed to stand as a representation of their cognitive skills. It’s not unlike establishing the overall worth of a car by the time it takes it to go from 0 to 60 mph. People put a lot of stock in both kinds of numbers. But to do so is mostly a fool’s errand. By contrast, there surely is something of value in the idea of social intelligence, even though it also will not easily yield to social science metrics.
Broadly speaking, social intelligence is a capacity to “read” others and various human environments with an ability to adjust to relevant norms. In practical terms, this turns out to be mostly a function of a person’s skill in knowing how to respond in a given environment. Psychologists sometimes talk about ‘theory of mind” as the related capacity to be able to anticipate what is going on in another person’s life, making adjustments that are more empathetic than indifferent. We know it when we see it, as when another person has said what seems like just the right thing to a needy friend.
As the effective use of impressions that we give off, social intelligence is best understood as a function of our ability to perform words and deeds that are a good match for a given situation.
In actual fact, there are assorted ways we can sense another person high social intelligence: their abilities to self-monitor impulses that might be awkward, a willingness to engage even with strangers, the capacity to listen to another and respond appropriately. A person with high social intelligence has a set of ‘social antennae’ that are strong enough to grasp what will give more comfort than pain to another.
The phrase “social intelligence” is perhaps most clearly associated with the psychologist, Daniel Goleman, and his best-selling book under the same name (Bantam, 2006). The book is a worthwhile study, even if its subtitle badly oversells the subject as a “science of human relationships.” And there’s the rub.
Years ago a less flamboyant sociologist, Erving Goffman, reminded us that social relationships are predicated on functional presentational skills. He talked about “impression management” and role taking as skills situated at the core of our relational world. The model he adopted was less “scientific”–meaning capable of precise measurement–and more properly seen as “dramatistic.” We are actors creating responses appropriate to a given scene.
The shift in perspective makes a big difference. As the effective use of impressions that we give off, social intelligence is best understood as a function of our ability to perform words and deeds that are a good match for a given situation. There is no single standard or set of norms or skills, but infinite possibilities.
This is why the dominant art form in our lives is film in all of its variations and platforms. Seeing individuals act in the presence of others is always a potential touchstone. Comedy generally lets us see people behaving badly, or at least inappropriately. Our laughter flows from a recognition of violated social codes. And drama puts us in close to see moments when lives can be transformed. It isn’t the transformation itself that grabs us. It’s a character’s response to the problem that precipitated it. Their reactions are how we come to know the features of their character, especially their aptitude for rising to meet social circumstances fraught with complexities.
In a sense we are all critics of performances, using personal preferences and floating standards to assess the responses of others. This more open-ended dramatic framework gives us the kind of pluralism of potential responses we need to understand the marvels and occasional disasters that unfold in social encounters.
Because Donald Trump keeps violating the norms of the Presidency, mainstream journalists tend to write their own narratives rather than report on his. If Trump truly wants “good press,” he will need to get beyond defensive jeremiads.
President Trump seems remarkably inept at using the rhetorical tools available to him. He thinks small using social media rants when he could be projecting the aspirations for his administration. Because he keeps violating the norms of the Presidency, journalists tend to write their own narratives rather than merely paraphrase these defensive jeremiads.
And so we are at an impasse where the President is threatening to pull back from daily briefings. He’s right to be concerned. As they stand they are defensive affairs, bereft of details on new ideas and proposals. Functionally they are cross-examination sessions, with the press asking and too rarely receiving basic information. Little wonder they are now covered “live” not only by cable news; there are also streamed by online news sources as well. As things stand, covering the Trump administration is like living next to a highway intersection where this is a fender-bender several times a day. It’s hard to look away.
In truth, news is rarely made at the site of what was once the White House swimming pool, even while the networks hype the daily confrontations. Reporters fill the cramped press space , hanging on every syllable and angry correction issued from the defensive Press Secretary, Sean Spicer. They would like clarity on some of the ambiguities that have accumulated in the last 24 hours. Like all press secretaries, Spicer is usually determined to be as creative with the truth and non-committal as possible. He’s also become comfortable issuing his own warnings on how the press should be doing their job.
To be sure, it can’t be much fun to be in Spicer’s shoes. His boss can change his mind faster than a quarterback trying to recover from a busted play.
As things stand, covering the Trump administration is like living next to a highway intersection where this is a fender-bender several times a day. It’s hard to look away.
So how should the press respond to a president that saves key opinions and grand gestures for himself? It’s probably not by sitting in the White House press room. The white house beat is a journalistic irony. It typically goes to a reporter as a reward. And yet it means functioning in a small and restricted space with access to only very guarded sources. Like a musician who has landed a long-term job playing in the pit of a broadway show, the work is admirably steady. Any number of competitors would like the gig. But it can be professionally numbing.
It’s worth remembering that one of America’s most iconic reporters, I.F. Stone, made it a hallmark of his journalism to not sit through formal press briefings and most other presidential events. He was more likely to spend time engaged in close reading of an agency report. Stone was a print journalist. He felt no urgency to find interesting pictures. He didn’t have to be present for the “show.” He could write about ideas, policy, and the merits of different approaches without waiting for a leader to mention the subject.
Every good journalist carries the genes of an investigative reporter like Stone. We and they just have to get beyond the empty theatrics.
Trump is a showman, a performance artist. Journalists are going to have to become smarter to learn what is really going on.
This kind of digging lives on with news gatherers like Pro-Publica, Mother Jones, Politico, and some of the nation’s biggest and revived newspapers. Think of the recent “Best Picture” Oscar winner, Spotlight (2015), which recreated the meticulous digging that allowed reporters at the Boston Globe to challenge official church narratives on peodophiles still being protected. Press conferences could have never given the people of Boston what they needed to know.
Trump is a showman, a performance artist. Journalists are going to have to become smarter in covering the Presidency if they want to know what is going on. Listening to him or his surrogates is not apt to yield much insight into the rationales for government actions.
Luckily, as the saying goes, Washington is the only ship of state that leaks from the top. There seems to be no shortage of informed senior level sources in the Administration who can help journalists understand the thinking of the Trump Administration. But we will have to give up our fascination with, among other things, the matinee sideshow of magical thinking that is the daily White House briefing.
I once wrote a book on politics and theater (Center Stage, 2007). At the time it made sense because so many politicos and journalists clearly wanted to master and manage news in an entertainment-dominated environment. Yet that perspective is now too facile; the national’s capital must be more than just another center for the performing arts. Leadership needs to include the mastery of leadership skills: conciliation, a head for details and social effects, an interest in consultation with others, and the grace to know when not to speak. A President that touts his success as a reality tv star needs to get serious if his administration is to be a match for the quick studies in the national press.
