Tech writer Anil Dash has an interesting article on Cooperative Overlap, the observation that different cultures have different formats and expectations in conversation. With overlap, people talk over one another in a way that is encouraging and expected and conversational. It’s different from interrupting, in that it actually demonstrates engagement. The concept comes from Deborah Tannen via Tiktok (because: 2021) and Dash relates talking over one another was common in his Indian American family growing up. He mentions that:
Sometimes it’s ascribed to ethnicity or community instead of geography, like folks who’ve told me it’s part of Jewish traditions (or similar to the ubiquitous Yiddish influence on speech in New York) or the various South Asian communities that I’m part of.
If we were going to encode this, we might say that “cooperative overlap” is ethnic. Tannen describes the reaction from people who didn’t grow up with overlap as a cultural background:
Those who aren’t used to cooperative overlapping can end up feeling interrupted, silenced, maybe even attacked — which clouds their minds and ties their tongues.
I think it’s safe to declare that historically Friends are decidedly in the no-overlap camp. In our worship, a gap between ministries is considered essential; many Friends consider it bad form to even speak in direct response to a previous message in worship. But it’s not just some theological position. We can be an uptight people, our language even in conversation full of unwritten rules.
So what happens when someone used to cooperative overlap shows up at a Quaker fellowship hour? They’re going to talk a lot, in a way that’s going to make the no-overlappers among us uncomfortable. Both Tannen and Dash stress that there’s no right or wrong way to converse but that we should understand our different styles. But do we? I’m in a position that I’ve heard probably hundreds of stories of people passionate about the values of Friends who had trouble fitting in. I suspect norms of conversational style is sometimes a big part of that.
Back in 1987, Philadelphia Yearly Meeting’s general secretary, Samuel Caldwell, gave a talk at the Pendle Hill retreat center called “The Time Has Come to Choose.” It became colloquially known as the Quaker Faith vs Quaker Culture essay. Caldwell exaggerates some things for effect and his description of Quaker culture is of a very particular Philadelphia-area manifestation and so parts of the talk haven’t aged well. But his main thesis is worth remembering:
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to size up our situation. Our numbers have dwindled to a few. There aren’t enough Quakers left even to effectively govern our institutions. Many of our meetings are struggling just to survive. Our voice is no longer heard – at least, anywhere that matters [more from him on this]. We have become petty and peevish. We bicker about what is Quaker and what is not. We are totally distracted by issues of organization, structure and budget. Let us not deceive ourselves. We have become a pathetic, irrelevant cult. Like the servant in the parable, we’re so afraid of losing the original principal that we’re losing all our opportunities, too. We have become ardent conservators of an arid tradition, not ambassadors of a living faith.
And that, Friends, is the crux of the problem. On the one hand, we have the Quaker faith — a precious treasure given to us by God. On the other hand, we have Quaker tradition and culture — the ground, if you will, in which we have buried our treasure. The first spells life; the second spells death. Like the servant in the parable, if we merely conserve our traditions and culture, what faith we have will be taken away and given to others. And, this is precisely what is wrong with Philadelphia Yearly Meeting today – we are focused on conserving our culture, not venturing with our faith. What’s worse, we are confused between the two.
This essay went viral among the Quaker blogosphere about 15 years ago. Johan Maurer referenced it in a post about institutions forgetting the why of their work. Chris Mohr wrote about it, Rich Accetta-Evans had a two part. I can only find Caldwell’s talk via Archive.org; because I don’t like things disappearing on the internet I’ve put it up on Google Docs.
I’m sure that the no-overlap Philadelphia Quaker conversational stereotype is not universal. I should think that more diverse meetings have worked through this already and I know that Quaker cultural norms has always more relaxed the further you get from Philly. But I think it’s still worth asking if a particular tradition of ours is faith or culture. And whether maintaining it is intrinsic to our practice or merely a stumbling block to sharing faith.
