Apparently, many people believe they show power and command by shouting, interrupting, jabbing their fingers, demanding specific responses, or scolding the person they’re talking to. They confuse bluster with dominance, volume with rectitude.

Of course I’m alluding to the recent embarrassment in the Oval Office, a United States president and vice president sounding more like the abusive father in The Great Santini than like honorable, measured statesmen, even though it was a performance that was met with praise from certain quarters. But this recent fiasco isn’t a one-off for American culture.

Consider the examples of reality TV that permeate network television. How many Real Housewives spin-offs can one country create? The standout feature of this franchise and others like it has always been shouting, clawing, stiletto-heel-throwing chaos. The Bachelor/Bachelorette? Sure, there’s the improbable romance, but the episode-to-episode consistent feature is the “drama.” The finger-jabbing, the shouting, all the way back to Big Brother, The Real World, and even An American Family.

The lesson from all of them is that unless we’re bellowing, heckling, and physically intimidating, we’re wusses and losers.

I find it indicative of where we are in today’s world that the increasingly popular reality shows are The Great British Bake-Off and Love on the Spectrum. Instead of chaos at ear-splitting volume, they depict people who are supportive and trying to connect. There’s still drama. There’s still intensity. There’s still disappointment, missed opportunities, mistakes, but they’re met with compassion and human understanding. What a relief!

In 1889, the Swedish master of modern drama August Strindberg wrote a short play titled The Stronger. The cast is two women, one who talks constantly, the other who doesn’t say a word. The talker complains, accuses, berates, demands, all to zero response. The other listens in silence. Which is the stronger?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting we sit in stoic silence and “take it.” There is shouting to be done in the world today.

But if you’re trying to make a point, if you really want to be heard and understood, if your so-called communication is something other than performative—well, let me ask you this: how do you feel when someone is squawking in your face? Jabbing a finger into your chest? Cutting you off when you try to speak? I’m willing to bet you’re not relaxed and open, eager to try to see their side of the situation. In the real world, arguments are not won this way, disagreements are not set right.

Why, in the play, is the silent woman stronger? Why did Zelenskyy appear more noble, more experienced, more in command? Because we admire people who are able to regulate their emotions.

When we enjoy seeing others in meltdown mode, metaphorically flinging feces, our pleasure comes from a spectrum of schadenfreude on one end and identification on the other. In other words, a continuum from enjoying the spectacle of those idiots getting what’s coming to them to reveling in the idea we’re not alone in our anti-social behavior.

What stirs our admiration and respect, though, is seeing others choose not to regress to the five-year-old in mid tantrum or the sixteen-year-old whose pre-frontal cortex hasn’t fully developed. Within us—sometimes deep within us—is a recognition that to move forward, we have to actually communicate. Someone has to be the adult in the room.

An Essential Skill for Real Life

There’s an extraordinary technique—maybe more appropriately termed a way of life—called Compassionate or Nonviolent Communication. To get a double-handed grip on this technique, it’s worth taking a class or two. But with some self-awareness, you can put it into practice today. Here are a few ideas to help you get started:

Our emotional reactions are not forced; we choose them. Granted, we choose them at a sub-nanosecond level, but we do choose them. We use the phrase, “That made me feel…” but consider: when you’re blue, no one can “make” you feel happy or joyful. Their presence might inspire us to feel better, but it’s not something they are making happen.

When we take responsibility for our emotions, we can start to manage them. Instead of instantly exploding at a remark we perceive as a slight, we can take a pause, a beat of silence, a deep breath in and out. When we offer ourselves a moment before we respond, we have taken back the reins of our emotions.

Our emotions spring from needs. Our emotions rise from the fact that we have a certain need that is either being met (happiness, contentment, pride, etc.) or not met (anger, hurt, frustration, etc.).

Every human has needs. We are all aware of the basic ones like food, water, shelter, safety. Sometimes our emotions operate from those levels, for sure. It’s harder to see, at first, when our emotions spring from subtler, yet deeply important, needs like respect, belonging, or a feeling of accomplishment. Yet it is the fulfillment or lack of fulfillment of these needs that is most often responsible for our faltering emotion management.

Let’s pause for reflection. Think of a time recently when you were angry or hurt. What was the situation? From your current calm perspective, can you consider which of your needs was not being met? Perhaps you felt you were being disrespected or cut out of an important group?

You can stop a useless reaction and transform it into an effective reaction. As you begin to practice Compassionate Communication, I recommend you use this formula as you express your feelings to someone else:

When you [something that could literally be audio or video recorded], I feel [remember, your feelings are your responsibility]. I wish you would [concrete request based in a need].

For example, “When you were staring at your phone just now while I was telling you about my boss, I feel like you don’t care about my hard day. I wish you would put your phone away so I know you’re really paying attention.”

Notice the difference between that and, “You’re not even listening! You don’t care about me! All you care about is stupid Instagram!” The former starts a conversation, the latter ends one.

So that’s part one of the terrific tool for emotion management and meaningful Compassionate Communication. Next time, we’ll talk about understanding the person you’re talking with.

No, this isn’t easy. Yes, it takes practice. And it’s immeasurably important and valuable. It can allow us to create for ourselves a Great British Bake-Off world instead of a Real Housewives one.