Planet Graham

Sometimes I really do think I inhabit a different planet to everyone else. A few months ago a choir colleague directly accused me of this by when I expressed disinterest in viewing the Star Wars film. That comment made me take notice and reflect. What was extraordinary was that this was a group of narrow specialists that I identified with closely; they were people like me, or at least people with an important common interest. If they thought I belonged on Mars or somewhere else, what would normal people think?

Often, I’ll have an experience where I just struggle to comprehend or empathise in any way with the feelings of those around me. I recall recently sitting in the café of a huge mall in Toronto, with some relatives. It was clear to me that this place was somewhere they loved, somewhere they would want to spend a large part of their life. They were in their element, and even their conversation seemed to be foreign to me, with lots of reference to recent movies and celebrity events as well as inordinate discussion of clothes and other possible purchases. Luckily, one of them had a baby in tow, and this gave us a connection to planet earth, as I shared the warmth for the child, loved their stories, and joined in their love. In other contexts, sport can be the conversation saviour.

I was happy enough to be dumped in the café for a couple of hours to read my magazines over a coffee or two while the others shopped. But I just could not conceive of ever feeling that the place was anywhere I could ever positively want to be. For me, shopping is a chore to be dealt with quickly and efficiently, even on an occasion where I’m buying something fun. Outlet malls are versions of hell on my planet.

Movies often affect me the same way. Even adverts or trailers confuse me when they are not making me angry. Who could want to see all that violence – I never want to see a gun, in real life or in a movie. What about all those cartoons and aliens and super-heroes? Humanity is endlessly fascinating in its everyday stories, so why can’t we have more movies about those?

I could go on, of course. But I need to be careful. Is it a good thing to be on another planet, or does it just mean I’ve become old and judging and set in my ways? I rather like my planet, and I do try to avoid stopping you from enjoying yours – well, most of the time, when I’m not feeling grumpy or acting smug.

Actually, I think one of the biggest changes in society over the last generation is the extent to which we all live on our own private planets. Technology and changes in media are the main reasons.

When I was growing up, we encountered a narrower range of experiences. On Christmas evening, almost everyone in the UK settled down to watch The Morecambe and Wise Christmas show, and for the following weeks everyone talked about it. We all watched the same news on TV, and had similar frames for the world as a result. We were all suspicious of minorities because we had little direct experience of them.

Nowadays we are free to create our own planet, and most of us do. In my own family, everyone follows their own preferences on their own screens, and, while we try hard to share meals and conversation, there are more distractions than before. On balance, this creates opportunity and joy that more outweighs the loss of sharing a more uniform, compliant planet.

But living in a bubble has its risks. We see it in politics, where most of us form fixed opinions and seek and find reinforcement rather than challenge. This summer I shared dinner with a guy whose planet seemed from a different universe, full of conspiracy theories and certainty of what seemed outrageous claims. Afterwards I rationalised that this guy had a job where he was usually in his car, and I guess he followed talk radio. He was certainly confident, unshakeable even, and rather angry and sad and scary too.

It’s hard to see how to counter the downsides of personal planets at a societal level. Morecambe and Wise were great, but today’s variety is even better, for all of us. We shouldn’t try to regulate freedom, even if the result is Trump. Perhaps one day the technology will advance to make it easier to communicate between our planets. In the meantime, the best we can do, as usual, is to start with ourselves.

In Shell, for a long time my favourite advice to those I coached was to keep challenging assumptions. We have to make assumptions all the time in order to simplify our worlds, but we go wrong when those assumptions become too fixed, we should always remember they are hypotheses not fixed pillars.

There are many ways to do this. We can actively seek difference in our lives, and then be open to listening and learning its lessons. While technology makes it possible and even tempting to narrow our lives, it also offers possibilities to broaden them.

I try really hard to be listening and learning whenever I have the chance to be with people of different outlooks. Being with the youthful crowd at the summer choir festival is a blessing, and so is spending time at the old folks home where we volunteer. I also remember well the year or so when I regularly attended meetings of a twelve-step programme, where the background of my peers was generally very different from my own. Once, I asked an open question of the room, and a lady that I had always disregarded and probably judged adversely for her lack of education and erudition answered me with stunning wisdom. That lesson has stayed with me as much as anything else from the programme – that wisdom can come from surprising places, indeed the more surprising the place, the greater the potential value. I wish I could say that I apply that lesson all the time and no longer disregard or judge – but I cannot.

We can do the same with what we choose to read or watch or discuss. I’ve never agreed with the social nicety that topics like politics or religion should be avoided with strangers – indeed strangers have the most to teach us. Diverse opinion is always healthy, even if most of the time we choose to disagree.

At Shell, I learned a useful technique called Outrageous Opposites. One way to examine a claim or mindset is to reframe it as its direct opposite, and see how that makes you feel. An example is when I read articles about Russia or Iran. Sometimes I try to think myself into the mind of a Russian or an Iranian reader, with the article altered to replace their own country by the US.

Behind all of this is an open mind and a listening and learning stance. Perhaps the most dangerous consequence of this age of technology is the way it stops us listening. While our headphones are on, we are not usually taking in the rest of our environment.

When I left Shell, I asked a few people who had done the same what they missed most. The most common answer was the people; specifically the intelligent challenge that Shell people brought to life. Perhaps they were right, and part of my occasional frustration with life today on Planet Graham is that more days are spent confused in shopping malls and fewer engrossed in smart conversation. But actually I wonder if the opposite is true. Planet Shell has just as many pitfalls – it is diverse but not as diverse as humanity, and it probably colours our judgements and restricts our curiosity.

In the meantime, if you spot someone looking sullen in a mall café reading The Economist or a similar magazine, please try to strike up a conversation. You’ll probably be judged pejoratively and rebuffed. But maybe, just maybe, our respective planets can find a temporary common orbit to the benefit of both of us.