Book Review: How To Know A Person by David Brooks

How To Know A Person

The Art of Seeing Others Deeply And Being Deeply Seen

By David Brooks

Random House

306 pp

David Brooks explores a richly textured landscape far beyond the usual scope of his Sunday NYT oped piece. “When I was young, I wanted to be knowledgeable, but as I got older, I wanted to be wise,” he states. Brooks is not alone in his quest seeking wisdom. There is a great need to see a person for who he or she really is inasmuch as there is a deeply heartfelt desire to be loved for who we really are.  

The antidote to not seeing people for who they really are is by becoming an illuminator. According to Brooks, “Being an illuminator is a way of being with other people, a style of presence, an ethical ideal.” It means standing back and allowing people to be themselves. Knowing another person requires the illuminator to be quiet and to listen, just listen, and allow another person to be not only seen, but heard. Being an illuminator is the gift that keeps giving. 

To truly know another person, we come to embrace that “People don’t see the world with their eyes; they see it with their entire life.” As human beings, we all view life through the prism of our “subjective consciousness,” which is essentially the sum total of everything we have learned and experienced throughout our lives. It is indeed helpful to always remember that we have all experienced love, fear, trauma, setbacks, disappointments, failures, as well as the joy and the sorrow that sets each one of us apart as unique, sentient beings. 

Everyone wants to be seen and heard and loved and respected, but we often lack the generosity to give people their own place in the sun.  We are so busy deflecting or thinking about what we want to say that we hardly listen to people long enough to extend compassion or to accord them dignity. And there is a reason for that. Being a true illuminator means having enough time, wealth and resources to be generous and giving of our own selves. Time, wealth and resources are not measured by conventional notions of success; it is by being content enough within the depths of our own souls to give a damn about “seeing” another person. 

Brooks borrows nuggets from other cultures to further embolden the art of seeing others deeply.  Koreans refer to nunchi as the ability to be sensitive to other people’s moods and thoughts, and the German herzensbildung is training one’s heart to see the full humanity in another (person.)

What Brooks sets forth is more than a long sprawling narrative on emotional intelligence. He examines the dire possibility that many of our everyday human interactions are often lacking heart and soul. And questions are posed: Can you be loved by a person who does not fully know you? If so, is that really love? 

There is an epidemic of loneliness in our culture. Perhaps it is due to the breakdown in community or the prevailing meanness that has obliterated decency and fair play. In the new world order, which is no order at all, chaos and clutter prevail. There is no one reason why chaos seems to permeate every faction of our culture. 

There is a decline in social relationships and David Brooks asserts social relationships are what we need the most. To be valued as a human being means being seen, recognized, and listened to. 

Brooks can point to social media, widening inequality, declining participation in community life, declining church attendance, rising populism and bigotry, and vicious demagoguery from our media and political elites, but at the end of the day, we do not cultivate kindness, generosity and respect because it takes too much time, and many of us do not have enough time, wealth, or resources. 

And yet, being a bonafide illuminator takes a generosity of spirit that supersedes monetary wealth or conventional notions of success. We choose to see other human beings for all that they are. And making the choice to see another is the ultimate act of generosity. 

To see or not to see? That is the question Macbeth would have asked had he known David Brooks. Not to be cynical, but some people do not want to be known, and for good reason; they do not want to pursue a conversation beyond banal small talk. They do not allow themselves to be vulnerable to another person because speaking the truth might be construed as weakness. Shine too much light on another person in public situations, defined as work, business, or politics, and you might find yourself being ostracized or, worse yet, played as a fool.

Every person has his or her own story with its own rhythm. And there is always the scaffolding of pride and shame. Who we really are, a collection of stories, the good, the bad, the ugly, might be deeply unflattering.  We sanitize and package ourselves for politics, business, and the world at large. Few people want to hear the rough, jagged edges surrounding our tales of our disappointments, losses and misery. Too often when we speak the truth about what we are thinking or feeling, few people want to hear it. 

I admire what Brooks wrote about grief and about those who are grieving. He captured a beautiful moment when he suggests we only need to be there for the one who is grieving. Just be there. What to say to the bereaved? Nothing needs to be said. Awkward words do not have to be summoned. Just sitting beside those who are grieving is giving them the greatest gift of all. 

Brooks has given us a wonderful opportunity to learn how to develop the capacity for unbridled generosity by being fully present and listening. How are you? we always ask. And we always respond, good. Brooks teaches us to establish a moral practice by respectfully asking people very specific questions about themselves. They will likely respond with candor. It is by engaging in true conversation with others that we will learn to see people as they are, in their full glory, their joys, their tribulations, as well as their sins and flaws. And maybe, just maybe, we will love them in spite of themselves, warts and all.