SUPERCOMMUNICATORS - Prologue and Chapter One
SUPERCOMMUNICATORS - Prologue and Chapter One
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The Power of Habit
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M MUNICATORS
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Secret Language ofISConnection
M MUNICATORS
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CHARLES DUHIGG
M MUNICATORS
M MUNICATORS R A N D OM HOUSE | N E W YO R K
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changed to disguise identities, to maintain anonymity, or for other reasons.
T
Any resulting resemblance to persons living or dead is
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entirely coincidental and unintentional.
D IST
Copyright © 2024 by Charles Duhigg
FOR All rights reserved.
OT in the United States by Random House,
NPublished
an imprint and division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Random House and the House colophon are registered
trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
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l i bra ry o f co ng r e ss cata lo g in g - i n -p ub lic at ion d ata
Identifiers: LCCN N
O
Description: New York:
2023025671 (print) | LCCN 2023025672 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780593243916 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780593243930 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780593732236 (international edition)
Subjects: LCSH: Interpersonal communication. |
Communication—Psychological aspects.
Classification: LCC BF637.C45 D858 2024 (print) | LCC BF637.C45 (ebook) |
DDC 153.6—dc23/eng/20230721
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023025671
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023025672
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper
randomhousebooks.com
246897531
first edition
Book design by Casey Hampton
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Prologue xi
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THE THREE KINDS OF CONVERSATION
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Chapter One: The Matching Principle
How to Fail at Recruiting Spies 3
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Chapter Seven: How Do We Make the Hardest
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Conversations Safer?
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The Problem Netflix Lives With
DI 198
T FOR
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A Guide to Using These Ideas, Part IV
Making Hard Conversations Easier 228
Afterword 235
Acknowledgments 247
A Note on Sources and Methods 249
Notes 251
Index 293
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If there was one thing everyone knew about Felix Sigala, it was that
IO N
he was easy to talk to. Exceptionally easy. People
U T loved talking to
IB
STR a little smarter, funnier,
him, because they always came away Ifeeling
D
FOR nothing in common with Felix—
more interesting. Even if you had
T
NO the conversation inevitably revealed all
which was unusual, because
kinds of opinions or experiences or friends you shared—it felt as if
he heard you, like you had some kind of bond.
That’s why the scientists had sought him out.
Felix had been with the Federal Bureau of Investigation for two
decades. He had joined after college and a stint in the military, and
then had spent a few years as an agent in the field. That’s where his
superiors had first taken note of his easy way with others. A series of
promotions soon followed, and eventually he landed as a senior re-
gional administrator with a mandate to serve as an all-around nego-
tiator. He was the guy who could coax statements from reluctant
witnesses, or convince fugitives to turn themselves in, or console
The woman went silent for a beat. “I guess I’ll play along,” she
said. “I have lots of advice. When I separated from my husband—”
Felix gently interrupted.
“I don’t really need an answer,” he said. “But I want to point out
that, in a room filled with professional colleagues, and after less than
an hour of conversation, you’re willing to talk about one of the most
intimate parts of your life.” He explained that one reason she felt so
at ease was likely because of the environment they had created to-
gether, how Felix had listened closely, had asked questions that drew
out people’s vulnerabilities, how they had all revealed meaningful
details about themselves. Felix had encouraged the scientists to ex-
N
IOproven
plain how they saw the world, and then U Thad to them that he
R I B
had heard what they were saying.
D IST Whenever someone said some-
thing emotional—
T FORwhen they didn’t realize their emotions
even
NO Felix had reciprocated by voicing feelings of his
were on display—
own. All those small choices they had made, he explained, had cre-
ated an atmosphere of trust.
T
“It’s a set of skills,” he told the scientists. “There’s ON magical
Inothing
U
about it.” Put differently, anyone can learn ST RtoIB
be a supercommunica-
D I
tor. O R
OTF
N
Who would you call if you were having a bad day? If you had screwed
up a deal at work, or had gotten into an argument with your spouse,
or were feeling frustrated and sick of it all: Who would you want to
talk to? There’s likely someone that you know who will make you
feel better, who can help you think through a thorny question or
share a moment of heartbreak or joy.
Now, ask yourself: Are they the funniest person in your life?
(Probably not, but if you paid close attention, you’d notice they
laugh more than most people.) Are they the most interesting or
smartest person you know? (What’s more likely is that, even if they
don’t say anything particularly wise, you anticipate that you will feel
smarter after talking to them.) Are they your most entertaining or
confident friend? Do they give the best advice? (Most likely: Nope,
nope, and nope—but when you hang up the phone, you’ll feel
calmer and more centered and closer to the right choice.)
So what are they doing that makes you feel so good?
This book attempts to answer that question. Over the past two
decades, a body of research has emerged that sheds light on why some
of our conversations go so well, while others are so miserable. These
insights can help us hear more clearly and speak more engagingly.
We know that our brains have evolved to crave connection: When we
N
“click” with someone, our eyes oftenUstartTIOto dilate in tandem; our
pulses match; we feel the same S RIB and start to complete each
Temotions
D I
other’s sentences within
F O R our heads. This is known as neural entrain-
ment, and it N OTwonderful. Sometimes it happens and we have no
feels
idea why; we just feel lucky that the conversation went so well. Other
times, even when we’re desperate to bond with someone, we fail
again and again. T ION
BU
TRI
For many of us, conversations canISsometimes seem bewildering,
R D
FO biggest problem with communi-
stressful, even terrifying. “The single
T
O
cation,” said the playwright
N George Bernard Shaw,“is the illusion it has
taken place.” But scientists have now unraveled many of the secrets of
how successful conversations happen. They’ve learned that paying at-
tention to someone’s body, alongside their voice, helps us hear them
better. They have determined that how we ask a question sometimes
matters more than what we ask. We’re better off, it seems, acknowledg-
ing social differences, rather than pretending they don’t exist. Every
discussion is influenced by emotions, no matter how rational the topic
at hand. When starting a dialogue, it helps to think of the discussion
as a negotiation where the prize is figuring out what everyone wants.
And, above all, the most important goal of any conversation is to
connect.
wandered away. I could see, in retrospect, that I was failing the peo-
ple who were most important to me, but I didn’t know how to fix it.
I was particularly confused by these failures because, as a writer, I am
supposed to communicate for a living. Why was I struggling to con-
nect with—and hear—the people who mattered most?
I have a feeling I’m not alone in this confusion. We’ve all failed, at
times, to listen to our friends and colleagues, to appreciate what they
are trying to tell us—to hear what they’re saying. And we’ve all failed
to speak so we can be understood.
This book, then, is an attempt to explain why communication
goes awry and what we can do to make it better. At its core are a
handful of key ideas. T ION
U
T RIB are actually three different
The first one is that manySdiscussions
I
Dpractical,
conversations. ThereOare
F R decision-making conversations
that focus on T
O This Really About? There are emotional conver-
NWhat’s
sations, which ask How Do We Feel? And there are social conversa-
tions that explore Who Are We? We are often moving in and out of all
three conversations as a dialogue unfolds. However, T IOifNwe aren’t hav-
ing the same kind of conversation asIour
IBU at the same mo-
TRpartners,
S
ment, we’re unlikely to connect
F R D each other.
Owith
What’s more, eachN OTof conversation operates by its own logic
type
and requires its own set of skills, and so to communicate well, we
have to know how to detect which kind of conversation is occurring,
03 and03 understand how it functions.
Which brings me to the second idea at the core of this book: Our
goal, for the most meaningful discussions, should be to have a “learn-
ing conversation.” Specifically, we want to learn how the people around
us see the world and help them understand our perspectives in turn.
The last big idea isn’t really an idea, but rather something I’ve
learned: Anyone can become a supercommunicator—and, in fact,
many of us already are, if we learn to unlock our instincts. We can all
learn to hear more clearly, to connect on a deeper level. In the pages
ahead, you’ll see how executives at Netflix, the creators of The Big Bang
Theory, spies and surgeons, NASA psychologists and COVID research-
ers have transformed how they speak and listen—and, as a result, have
managed to connect with people across T ION vast divides. And
seemingly
U
you will see how these lessonsST RIBto everyday conversations: our
apply
chats with workmates, R DI romantic partners and our kids, the
friends,
FO
Tshop
N O
barista at the coffee and that woman we always wave to on the bus.
And that’s important, because learning to have meaningful con-
versations is, in some ways, more urgent than ever before. It’s no se-
IOweN
cret the world has become increasingly polarized, U Tthat struggle to
IB
R down together, listen to
hear and be heard. But if we know howIStoTsit
each other and, even if we can’tO
D
R every disagreement, find ways
T F resolve
to hear one another and O what is needed, we can coexist and thrive.
Nsay
Every meaningful conversation is made up of countless
small choices. There are fleeting moments when the right question,
or a vulnerable admission, or an empathetic word can completely
change a dialogue. A silent laugh, a barely audible sigh, a friendly
smile during a tense moment: Some people have learned to spot
these opportunities, to detect what kind of discussion is occurring,
to understand what others really want. They have learned how to
hear what’s unsaid and speak so others want to listen.
This, then, is a book that explores how we communicate and con-
nect. Because the right conversation, at the right moment, can change
everything.
FOR
As the next chapter explains, our brains have evolved to crave con-
T
NO
nection. But consistently achieving alignment with other people requires
understanding how communication functions—
and, most important,
recognizing that we need to be engaged in the same kind of conversa-
tion, at the same time, if we want to connect.
Supercommunicators aren’t born with special abilities—
but they
have thought harder about how conversations unfold, why they succeed
or fail, the nearly infinite number of choices that each dialogue offers
that can bring us closer together or push us apart. When we learn to
recognize those opportunities, we begin to speak and hear in new ways.
T ION
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Lawler finished spy school with high marks and was shipped off
to Europe. His assignment was to establish rapport with foreign bu-
reaucrats, cultivate friendships with embassy attachés, and develop
other sources who might be willing to have candid conversations—
and thereby, his bosses hoped, open channels for discussions that
make the world’s affairs a bit more manageable.
Lawler’s first few months abroad were miserable. He tried his best to
blend in. He attended black-tie soirees and had drinks at bars near
embassies. Nothing worked. There was a clerk from the Chinese del-
egation he met après-ski and repeatedly T ON to lunch and cock-
Iinvited
IB U
tails. Eventually Lawler worked T R
up the courage to inquire if his new
D IS
FORto earn some extra cash passing along gossip
friend, perhaps, wanted
T
NO his embassy. The man replied that his family was
he heard inside
quite wealthy, thank you, and his bosses tended to execute people for
things like that. He would pass.
N
IOconsulate
Then there was a receptionist from the Soviet U T who
R IB
seemed promising until one of Lawler’s
D IST superiors took him aside
and explained that she, in fact,O R for the KGB and was trying to
F worked
T
recruit him. NO
Eventually, a career-saving opportunity appeared: A CIA col-
league mentioned that a young woman from the Middle East, who
worked in her country’s foreign ministry, was visiting. Yasmin was
on vacation, the colleague explained, staying with a brother who had
moved to Europe. A few days later, Lawler managed to “bump into”
her at a restaurant. He introduced himself as an oil speculator. As
they began talking, Yasmin mentioned that her brother was always
busy, never available for sightseeing. She seemed lonely.
Lawler invited her to lunch the next day and asked about her life.
Did she like her job? Was it hard living in a country that had recently
undergone a conservative revolution? Yasmin confided that she
hated the religious radicals who had come to power. She longed to
move away, to live in Paris or New York, but for that she needed
money, and it had taken months of saving just to afford this brief
trip.
Lawler, sensing an opening, mentioned that his oil company was
looking for a consultant. It was part-time work, he said, assignments
she could do alongside her job at the foreign ministry. But he could
offer her a signing bonus. “We ordered champagne and I thought she
was going to start crying, she was so happy,” he told me.
After lunch, Lawler rushed back to the office to find his boss.
Finally, he had recruited his first spy! “And he tells me, ‘Congratula-
IO N
tions. Headquarters is gonna be overjoyed.
U T Now you need to tell her
R I B
you’re CIA and you’ll want S T
Iinformation about her government.’ ”
D
Lawler thought that O
T FwasR a terrible idea. If he was honest with Yas-
NOspeak to him again.
min, she’d never
But his boss explained that it was unfair to ask someone to work
for the CIA without being forthright. If Yasmin’s government ever
N
IOhad
found out, she would be jailed, possibly killed. U TShe to under-
R IB
stand the risks.
D IST
FORwith Yasmin, and tried to find the
So, Lawler continued meeting
T
right moment to reveal NOhis true employer. She became increasingly
candid as they spent more time together. She was ashamed that her
government was shutting down newspapers and prohibiting free
speech, she told him, and despised the bureaucrats who had made it
illegal for women to study certain topics in college and had forced
them to wear hijabs in public. When she first sought out a job with
the government, she said, she had never imagined things would get
this bad.
Lawler took this as a sign. One night, over dinner, he explained
that he was not an oil speculator, but, rather, an American intelli-
gence officer. He told her that the United States wanted the same
things she did: To undermine her country’s theocracy, to weaken its
some jazz fest, sprinting past campus cops who were uncertain if he
was a PhD candidate or a weed dealer servicing undergraduates.
Sievers had taken a circuitous route to the Ivy League. For college,
he had attended a music conservatory where he studied drumming
and music production at the exclusion of pretty much everything
else. Soon, however, he began to suspect that no amount of practice
would deliver the rarefied status of drummers- who-can-
support-
themselves-by-drumming. So he began exploring other careers. He
had always been fascinated by how people communicate. In particu-
lar, he loved the voiceless musical dialogues that sometimes emerged
onstage. There were moments when he was improvising with other
musicians and suddenly everyone would T ON as if they were shar-
Iclick,
T R IBU as well as the audience, the
ing one brain. It felt as if the performers—
D IS
guy at the mixing board,
FO R even the bartender—were suddenly all in
T
NO felt the same thing during great late-night dis-
sync. He sometimes
cussions, or successful dates. So he signed up for a few psychology
classes, and, eventually, applied to a PhD program with Dr. Thalia
N
Wheatley, one of the foremost neuroscientistsU TIO
researching how hu-
R I B
mans connect with one another.
DIST
“Why people ‘click’ with Fsome OR people, but not others, is one of
T
NO of science,” Wheatley wrote in the jour-
the great unsolved mysteries
nal Social and Personality Psychology Compass. When we align with
someone through conversation, Wheatly explained, it feels wonder-
ful, in part because our brains have evolved to crave these kinds of
connections. The desire to connect has pushed people to form com-
munities, protect their offspring, seek out new friends and alliances.
It’s one reason why our species has survived. “Human beings have
the rare capacity,” she wrote, “to connect with each other, against all
odds.”
Numerous other researchers have also been fascinated by how we
form connections. As Sievers began reading science journals, he
learned that in 2012, scholars at the Max Planck Institute for Human
Development in Germany had studied the brains of guitarists play-
ing Scheidler’s Sonata in D Major. When the musicians played their
guitars separately, with each person focused on their own musical
score, their neural activity looked dissimilar. But when they segued
into a duet, the electrical pulses within their craniums began to syn-
chronize. To the researchers, it appeared as if the guitarists’ minds
had merged. What’s more, that linkage often flowed through their
bodies: They frequently began breathing at similar rates, their eyes
dilated in tandem, their hearts began to beat in similar patterns. Fre-
quently even the electrical impulses along their skin would synchro-
nize. Then, when they stopped playing T ON
Itogether— as their scores
I B U
R
IST the “between-brain synchroniza-
diverged or they veered into solos—
D
FOR ” the scientists wrote.
tion disappeared completely,
T
NO other studies showing this same phenomenon
Sievers found
when people hummed together, or tapped their fingers side by side,
or solved cooperative puzzles, or told each other stories. In one ex-
periment, researchers at Princeton measured the T IONactivity of a
neural
dozen people listening to a young woman T R IBU a long and convo-
recount
DI S
luted tale about her prom night. O R As they monitored the speaker’s
brain alongside the brainsO TofF her listeners, they saw the listeners’
N
minds synchronize with the narrator, until they were all experienc-
ing the same feelings of stress and unease, joy and humor, at the
same time, as if they were telling the story together. What’s more,
some listeners synchronized particularly closely with the speaker;
their brains seemed to behave nearly precisely like her brain. When
questioned afterward, those tightly aligned participants could distin-
guish between the story’s characters more clearly and recall smaller
details. The more people’s brains had synchronized, the better they
understood what was said. The “extent of speaker-listener neural
coupling predicts the success of the communication,” the researchers
wrote in The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences in 2010.
SUPERCOMMUNICATORS
T ION
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N
To begin, Sievers and his colleagues gathered U TIO of volunteers
dozens
B
I that were designed
and asked them to watch a series of movie
I STRclips
D
OR for example, were in a foreign
to be difficult to understand. Some,
F
OT scenes from the middle of a film, com-
language. Others wereNbrief
pletely decontextualized. To make the clips even harder to follow, the
researchers had removed all audio and subtitles, so what participants
saw were confusing, silent performances: A bald and irate man in
strained conversation with a blond heavyset fellow. Are they friends
or enemies? In another, a cowboy takes a bath while a second man
observes from the doorway. Is he a sibling? A lover?
The volunteers’ brains were monitored as they watched these
clips, and researchers saw that each person reacted slightly differ-
ently. Some were confused. Others were entertained. But no two
brain scans were alike.
T ION
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* Because the transcript of this conversation is filled with asides and verbal overlaps,
I have streamlined this exchange for brevity and clarity. I have removed trip-ups,
noises like “umm,” tangents, and dialogue unrelated to the issues at hand. I have
not altered the meaning of anything said, nor put words in anyone’s mouth.
Throughout this book, anytime a verbatim transcript has been edited in this man-
ner, it is mentioned in the endnotes.
that seriousness. When a discussion went light, they were the first to
play along. They changed their minds frequently and let themselves
be swayed by their groupmates.
In one conversation, when a participant brought up an unexpect-
edly serious idea—that a character in a clip had been abandoned, the
participant’s tone hinting that he might understand abandonment
firsthand—the high centrality participant immediately matched his
tone:
Well, no, of course not. Each of those tasks is difficult on its own.
Together, they can seem impossible.
To understand how supercommunicators do what they do, it’s
useful to explore what happens inside our brains when we’re in a
conversation. Researchers have studied how our minds function dur-
ing different sorts of discussions and have found that various neural
networks and brain structures become active during different types
of dialogue. Simplifying greatly, there are three kinds of conversation
03 03dominate most discussions.
that
T ION
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T ION
These three conversations— which T R IBU
correspond to practical
D I S
R
decision-making conversations,Oemotional conversations, and con-
O TaFre best captured by three questions:
versations about identity—
N
What’s This Really About?, How Do We Feel?, and Who Are We? Each of
these conversations, as we will see, draws on a different type of mind-
set and mental processing. When we have a conversation about, say,
a choice—a What’s This Really About? conversation—we’re activating
different parts of our brains from when we discuss our feelings—the
How Do We Feel? discussion—and if our mind doesn’t align with the
brains of our conversational partners, we’ll all feel like we didn’t
fully understand one another.
The first mindset— the decision-making mindset—is associated
with the What’s This Really About? conversation, and it’s active when-
T ION
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The second mindset—the emotional mindset—emerges when we
discuss How Do We Feel? and draws on neural structures—the nu-
cleus accumbens, the amygdala, and the hippocampus, among
others—that help shape our beliefs, emotions, and memories. When
we tell a funny story, or have an argument with our spouse, or experi-
ence a rush of pride or sorrow during a conversation, that’s the emo-
tional mindset at work. When a friend complains to us about their
boss, and we sense they’re asking for empathy, rather than advice, it’s
because we’re attuned to How Do We Feel?
T FOR
sions. When we, for instance, gossip about office politics, or figure
NO
out the people we know in common, or explain how our religion or
family background— or any other identity— influences us, we’re
using our brain’s default mode network, which plays a role in how
N
we think “about other people, oneself, and the U TIO of oneself to
relation
T
other people,” as the neuroscientist Matthew
S RIBLieberman wrote. One
03d D I
03d1997 study published in the R
FOjournal Human Nature found that
T
NO
affect.” Happy couples ask each other more questions, repeat what
the other person said, make tension-easing jokes, get serious together.
The next time you feel yourself edging toward an argument, try ask-
ing your partner: “Do you want to talk about our emotions? Or do
we need to make a decision together? Or is this about something
else?”
The importance of this insight— that communication comes
from connection and alignment—is so fundamental that it has be-
come known as the matching principle: Effective communication re-
quires recognizing what kind of conversation is occurring, and then
matching each other. On a very basic level, if someone seems emo-
tional, allow yourself to become emotionalT IONas well. If someone is
intent on decision making, match T R IBUfocus. If they are preoccupied
that
IS
by04 R D their fixation back to them.
social implications,Oreflect
TF
NO
T ION
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After the disastrous dinner where he had revealed that he worked for
the CIA and Yasmin had fled, it didn’t seem to Lawler like there was
much hope left. This was his only potential recruitment after nearly
a year of work. He had completely messed things up and was fairly
certain this failure was going to cost him his job. Only one option
remained: To call Yasmin and beg her to join him for one last meal.
“I filled up a notebook with ideas for what to say to her, but I knew
it was pointless,” Lawler told me. “Nothing was going to break
through.”
Yasmin agreed to a final dinner. They T ON to a fancy restaurant
Iwent
where she sat, quiet and on edge, T R IBU the entire meal. Her anxi-
through
ety wasn’t just due toO R DIS proposal, she told him. She was flying
Lawler’s
F
home soon N OTwas nervous and discouraged. She had hoped this
and
trip would reveal something to her, show her how to live a more
meaningful life. But here she was, about to go home, and everything
was the same. She felt like she had disappointed T ION
herself.
U
“She was so sad,” Lawler told me. “So STI RIB to cheer her up—you
tried
R DI
O
know, little jokes, funny stories. ”
Lawler talked about O
a
T F who had kept forgetting his name,
landlord
N
and reminisced about sightseeing trips they had taken together. Yas-
min remained glum. Eventually, it was time for dessert. A silence
crept in. Lawler wondered if he should try one more pitch. Should
he offer to get her a visa to America for her cooperation? Too risky,
he decided. She might just stand up and leave.
The silence extended. Lawler had no idea what to say. The last
time he had felt this lost was before he had joined the CIA, when he
had worked for his father selling steel components in Dallas. “I had
never sold a thing in my life before that,” he told me. “I was terrible
at it.” There was this one day, after months of discouraging sales calls,
when he had visited a potential client—a woman running a small
to find something they shared. “It didn’t work all the time,” he said.
“But it worked enough.”
Eating dessert with Yasmin, it occurred to Lawler that he had
forgotten this lesson. He had been thinking of recruiting spies as
very different from selling steel. But, at some level, they were the
same basic activity. In both situations, he needed to connect with
someone, which meant he had to show them he was hearing what
they were trying to say.
But he hadn’t done that with Yasmin, he realized, not in an hon-
est way, not like he had with the mother in West Texas. He hadn’t
proved that he heard Yasmin’s anxieties and hopes, hadn’t been au-
thentic about himself. He hadn’t shared T ON her the way she had
Iwith
with him. T R IBU
So, once the dishes R DIScleared, Lawler started talking about
were
O
how he felt. N T FYasmin he was worried he wasn’t cut out for this
HeOtold
life. He had worked so hard to get into the CIA, but he found him-
self lacking something, some kind of confidence that he saw in his
N
IOapproached
peers. He told her about all the times he’d clumsily
U T for-
R IB
eign officials, how terrified he was they
D ISTwould report him and he’d
get deported. He described hisO R
F embarrassment when a colleague had
explained that he wasN O T
trying to recruit a KGB officer who was simul-
taneously seeking to recruit him. He told her he was worried he was
a failure just for admitting all this to her—but he understood, a little,
what she was feeling when she thought about returning home. He
had felt the same way back in Texas, when he was desperate for a life
that mattered.
Instead of trying to cheer up Yasmin, he talked about his own
frustrations and disappointments, the same way she had. It felt like
the most honest thing he could do. “I wasn’t trying to be manipula-
tive,” Lawler told me. “She’d already refused me, and I knew I wasn’t
going to change her mind. So I stopped trying. It felt good to stop
pretending I had all the answers.”
Yasmin listened. She told Lawler she understood. The worst part,
she said, was that she felt as if she were betraying herself. She wanted
to do something, but she felt powerless. She began to cry.
“I’m sorry,” Lawler told her. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
This was all a mistake, he thought. I should have left her alone. He
would have to report this discussion, in detail, to the agency. It would
be one final embarrassment to cap off a humiliating year.
Then Yasmin gathered herself. “I can do this,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” Lawler said.
“I can help you,” she replied.
“You don’t have to!” he said. He was caught so off guard that he
blurted the first thought in his mind. T ION
“We don’t have to see each
I BU
other ever again! I promise I’llST R
D I leave you alone.”
FOR important,” she said. “This matters. I can
“I want to do something
T
do it. I knowN O”
I can.
Two days later, Yasmin underwent polygraph testing and training
in secure communication methods at a CIA safe house. “You’ve never
seen someone so nervous,” Lawler told me. “ButU she ON with it. She
TIstuck
never said she was having second thoughts. ST RIB” Once she was back
I
Dmessages
home, Yasmin began sending Lawler
F O R detailing the memos
she had seen, the officialsO T
N the foreign minister had hosted, the gossip
she’d overheard. “She became one of the best sources in the region,”
said Lawler. “She was a gold mine.” For the next two decades, as Yas-
min’s career inside the foreign ministry thrived, she communicated
regularly with the CIA, helping them understand what was happen-
ing behind the scenes, putting context around governmental decla-
rations, making quiet introductions. Her assistance was never
discovered by the authorities.
Lawler still has no real idea why Yasmin changed her mind that
night. In the years that followed, he asked her to explain it numerous
times, but even she struggled to say what had caused the shift. She
told him that somehow, during dinner, when it became clear they
22b
T ION
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something or fail to notice what goes unsaid.
T
T R IBUAbout? conversation can begin.
This is when the What’s This Really
T ION
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