This is a great practice in inter-subjectivity. To see what assumptions and perspectives that both "you" and "I" are each captive to- and that provides the groundwork for making those things 'object'.
And I think some gentleness in words when we want to ask for further clarification is valuable too. Even with the right intent, the "what do you mean" questions can often be taken as an attack on identity, especially when we are unknowingly coupled with our thoughts and ideologies.
@TK, yes! You just named the heart of what I'm getting at.
When I ask “What do you mean?” at its best, I’m trying to move us into intersubjectivity on purpose: surface the assumptions we’re each captive to, then make them visible enough to examine. Schutz frames intersubjectivity as an everyday accomplishment—something we build and maintain together, not something we get for free.
And your second point is the one that decides whether this works in real life: gentleness. Clarification is a “face” event. If the question lands as “you’re confused/you’re wrong/your identity is on trial,” the nervous system hears threat, not curiosity. Goffman’s work on face-work nails why people protect the self they’re presenting, especially under social pressure.
I also like your phrasing, “unknowingly coupled with our thoughts and ideologies.” That maps cleanly onto what ACT calls cognitive fusion: when ideas and identity get glued together, a request for meaning can feel like a personal attack.
That’s why the next pieces in the series are going to be extremely practical: a taxonomy (what kind of clarification is needed) and protocols (how to ask so it’s hearable). Part 2 will dig into repair, the conversation-analytic view of how humans fix understanding mid-stream, including why talk tends to prefer self-correction once you flag trouble the right way.
If you’re open to it, I’d love to compare notes on your “make it object” move, because that’s the line between clarification as a tool and clarification as a weapon.
What stood out most to me in this piece is how quickly conversations can slide from inquiry into identity and posturing—often without anyone noticing it happening.
I recently experienced this firsthand in a discussion with my wife about something seemingly simple: what exactly counts as “midnight.” In military contexts, civilian contexts, and other industries, the same term is used differently, correctly, depending on application. What I noticed wasn’t just the disagreement—it was how quickly we both moved toward posture rather than curiosity. I didn’t understand how she didn’t understand. She felt the same in reverse.
The shift came when we slowed down and asked, “What do you mean?”
Not as a challenge, but as a clarification of mechanism and context.
That single move changed the conversation. We stopped defending positions and started examining how meaning operates across systems. The realization was simple but powerful: meaning isn’t linear, and it isn’t owned. It’s negotiated. The same word can carry different, valid meanings depending on training, environment, and purpose.
What this article reinforced for me is that growth depends on our willingness to learn with each other. When posturing replaces inquiry—when we assume intent, competence, or moral standing—we shut down that learning loop. When we pause and clarify mechanics instead of defending identity, understanding expands in both directions.
The real value of “What do you mean?” isn’t politeness—it’s preservation of growth. It keeps conversations from collapsing into performance and allows people with different internal models to actually meet in the same space.
That’s what I took from this piece, and that’s how I’m trying to practice it.
Mario — this is a perfect case study. “Midnight” is exactly the kind of word that exposes how meaning depends on system + context: in 24-hour notation, you’ll see 00:00 (start of day) and 24:00 (end of day) used differently depending on application.
And you nailed the real drift: inquiry quietly turns into posture because each person assumes the other is missing something obvious, when they’re often running different internal models.
This is a great practice in inter-subjectivity. To see what assumptions and perspectives that both "you" and "I" are each captive to- and that provides the groundwork for making those things 'object'.
And I think some gentleness in words when we want to ask for further clarification is valuable too. Even with the right intent, the "what do you mean" questions can often be taken as an attack on identity, especially when we are unknowingly coupled with our thoughts and ideologies.
@TK, yes! You just named the heart of what I'm getting at.
When I ask “What do you mean?” at its best, I’m trying to move us into intersubjectivity on purpose: surface the assumptions we’re each captive to, then make them visible enough to examine. Schutz frames intersubjectivity as an everyday accomplishment—something we build and maintain together, not something we get for free.
And your second point is the one that decides whether this works in real life: gentleness. Clarification is a “face” event. If the question lands as “you’re confused/you’re wrong/your identity is on trial,” the nervous system hears threat, not curiosity. Goffman’s work on face-work nails why people protect the self they’re presenting, especially under social pressure.
I also like your phrasing, “unknowingly coupled with our thoughts and ideologies.” That maps cleanly onto what ACT calls cognitive fusion: when ideas and identity get glued together, a request for meaning can feel like a personal attack.
That’s why the next pieces in the series are going to be extremely practical: a taxonomy (what kind of clarification is needed) and protocols (how to ask so it’s hearable). Part 2 will dig into repair, the conversation-analytic view of how humans fix understanding mid-stream, including why talk tends to prefer self-correction once you flag trouble the right way.
If you’re open to it, I’d love to compare notes on your “make it object” move, because that’s the line between clarification as a tool and clarification as a weapon.
Thank you!
Thanks for writing this, such an important reframing.
What stood out most to me in this piece is how quickly conversations can slide from inquiry into identity and posturing—often without anyone noticing it happening.
I recently experienced this firsthand in a discussion with my wife about something seemingly simple: what exactly counts as “midnight.” In military contexts, civilian contexts, and other industries, the same term is used differently, correctly, depending on application. What I noticed wasn’t just the disagreement—it was how quickly we both moved toward posture rather than curiosity. I didn’t understand how she didn’t understand. She felt the same in reverse.
The shift came when we slowed down and asked, “What do you mean?”
Not as a challenge, but as a clarification of mechanism and context.
That single move changed the conversation. We stopped defending positions and started examining how meaning operates across systems. The realization was simple but powerful: meaning isn’t linear, and it isn’t owned. It’s negotiated. The same word can carry different, valid meanings depending on training, environment, and purpose.
What this article reinforced for me is that growth depends on our willingness to learn with each other. When posturing replaces inquiry—when we assume intent, competence, or moral standing—we shut down that learning loop. When we pause and clarify mechanics instead of defending identity, understanding expands in both directions.
The real value of “What do you mean?” isn’t politeness—it’s preservation of growth. It keeps conversations from collapsing into performance and allows people with different internal models to actually meet in the same space.
That’s what I took from this piece, and that’s how I’m trying to practice it.
Mario — this is a perfect case study. “Midnight” is exactly the kind of word that exposes how meaning depends on system + context: in 24-hour notation, you’ll see 00:00 (start of day) and 24:00 (end of day) used differently depending on application.
And you nailed the real drift: inquiry quietly turns into posture because each person assumes the other is missing something obvious, when they’re often running different internal models.