🔊Why are Americans so loud?
Is it history? Is it reality TV? Is it the effect of performative capitalism?
Hey there,
How’s it going?
Writing’s been a little sparse lately, thanks to a trip to India and all the usual administrative chaos it entails. India is a full-time job. If you want to get something done in this bureaucratic, high-context machinery, you better be ready for lots of phone calls, many hours of cajoling, crying, shouting, and general angst. But that’s a story for another day.
Also, visiting home means my schedule all gets thrown out of whack and its hard to find significant chunks of ‘me time’ to write. I always develop whole new levels of respect for people with young kids who manage to write and do creative endeavors.
In any case, back in May, I piggybacked on N’s work trip and we had a week in New York which we spent mostly in Manhattan, eating, walking and then eating and walking some more. It was wonderful. But it also rekindled my old fascination from the days I lived briefly in the US about Americans and their sheer loudness. This has been lying in the drafts for a while.
Americans are like a stormy day in reverse. You know, when the dark storm clouds have gathered and you see the flashes of lightning, and then you brace for the thunder. With an American you hear him before you see him.
The cacophony of Americans talking
Just in the week I’ve spent in New York, I have been surprised (yet again) by the loud and performative nature of an average American conversation.
I know a lot more about the personal lives of fellow strangers on the street than I care to:
The girl who is planning for college and worrying about her debt
Someone’s celebrity sighting and how it was one of the most awkward encounters of his life
A woman’s fear of water and why she would never swim in any water body and avoids going near the lake in Central Park
A guy shouting at someone on the phone about getting the shitty end of a deal
Two old ladies discussing their hip replacement surgery
A bro pitching a business idea right on the street near a trash can (this juxtaposition is something I actually love about New York)
And many other stories. I would get a brief snippet of whole new universes every time someone passed me on the street.
And if you think that the Americans are loud outside, put them in a closed room and watch the roof blow off the place.
An average A2B is loud but most restaurants in the US are way louder. The chatter on a full metro train carriage is momentous. Everyone is an actor on Broadway and their stories are being told with incredible passion.
Quiet and loud cultures
If there is a spectrum, a typical Thai is on the opposite end of a typical American. Once in the metro in Bangkok, N and I spoke in our normal voice and it echoed through the train even though it was full of fellow passengers. The only time you hear loud conversations in Bangkok is when there are tourists.
Some cultures are loud and some are not.
India is probably 10x louder and more chaotic than the US. But India has a din; a veritable tableau of noises: vendors hawking, vehicles honking, shutters shuttering, people shouting, loudspeakers belching stuff, uncles playing music on speakers in their phones, and on and on. The noise can certainly drive one insane.
I hear China is no different in public spaces.
So then, what makes Americans uniquely loud?
Unlike the general cacophony of life and utter disregard for noise pollution in some cultures, Americans have a unique way of being loud. It’s being loud performatively. Two Americans may be talking about how they spent a quiet Sunday afternoon but they would use a lot of words, intonate like crazy, laugh like they’ve heard the best joke in the world (and in the process show the best, most perfect set of teeth), spread their arms wide and generally display their story to not just the intended recipient but to anyone within listening distance.
A conversation between two Americans, more than any other culture, feels like an intentional broadcast, often about nothing.
I am an introvert. And also possess an irrational level of wanting to talk about things only if they meet a certain bar of being interesting or relevant to the other person. I may have a problem of being on the other end of the spectrum where I do not elaborate enough on things I talk about or hate engaging in endless small talk.
On the other hand, an average American seems to relish the idea of talking about nothing. “Small talk” isn’t so small in America — in fact, it seems to occupy center stage of many conversations.
Many theories
To be clear, I love the American spirit. I appreciate the fact that a random American in a store would strike up a conversation with me just on the basis of my buying a lozenge. I have talked to more strangers in two weeks in the US than I have done in three years in Thailand (language is also a barrier of course). It opens up your mind.
But the sheer amplitude of the American personal discourse is still a thing to be awed and shocked by.
One theory that’s often proposed is that America is a massive country and therefore you have to shout across the vast empty spaces to be heard. This theory doesn’t pass the smell test when you consider that an average Canadian an Australian or a Russian doesn’t scream at one another despite being in a massive country.
Leaving aside my tinfoil hat idea of the American government putting things in their water, I have seen many theories being proposed for the American grandness of conversation.
Big-ass country phenomenon
This is the most common one. America is big and you have to shout across the vast empty spaces to be heard.
I mean, ok.
But one can imagine that there’s a selection bias here. The early American, before there was America, the one who had to conquer this wilderness called the New World had to be the loudest, most boisterous, and almost the manic adventurer of the group. Anyone who spoke in a normal voice may have had self-doubts and stayed put.
America is a country of staggering vastness. Sure, it’s just the third largest country (9.6 million square kilometers) but no other country of this size has conquered every part of that land and tamed it. The two other countries that are bigger: Russia and Canada have done squat. Large parts of their land are still wilderness (not that I am complaining).
And so, by screaming across the plains and into the canyons, over the belching screams of buffalos they murdered, did the early Americans develop a cultural tendency to amp up their decibel? Maybe.
Sales pitch syndrome
Related to the point above, Americans are pioneering and as a consequence, they are always selling, pitching, hustling, and convincing. The din of capitalism means that you need to be loud, project yourself, and make it sound like you have the most interesting story out there. This also means you smile, show you full teeth, wave your arms, inflect extravagantly, and be loud in general.
It’s a funny vicious cycle. The more Americans are pitching themselves, the louder the others need to get to be heard above the roar of all the average American ‘awesomeness’.
Reality TV syndrome
I don’t want to generalize, but perhaps a percentage of Americans like to live their life as a display for others more so than people in other parts of the world. It’s the reality TV / social media syndrome.
The loudest, most shocking, most interesting aspects are to be talked about. This gets attention. On watching this attention, more people try to be louder and more exhibitionist and so on.
Or maybe it’s something else…..
The answer eludes me. Perhaps it’s what they call the American spirit. It’s also the same spirit that makes an average American take up 2x the space around them and feel confident to strike up conversation anytime with strangers.
I am not complaining. It certainly makes Americans more interesting if a tad annoying at times.
Could be Worse,
Tyag