Among the afflictions plaguing mankind, longwindedness probably gets the least amount of attention. Which is unfortunate considering its ubiquity and many detriments. Sadly, our countrymen appear to be somewhat more prone to it than the global average, or so it seems to me. Brevity is a virtue that could not have been in shorter supply.
Almost all politicians, anchorpersons, chief guests and speakers can be trusted to drive their audiences crazy with their banality, their repetitions and their unbearable verbosity. In fact, anybody with a microphone (or without it for that matter) is likely to do the same. Just listen to any random participant asking a question at the end of a session. The chances are that he will deliver his own speech before coming to his question. Then he will go to great lengths to explain his question, and then ask the same question again, only in different words this time. He will not stop even then, unless his mic is muted or snatched away.
This compulsion is understandable when it is somebody who rarely gets an opportunity to voice his opinions and observations. It is much harder to be sympathetic to those who, on account of their profession or social standing, regularly get such opportunities.
Like the tone-deaf, the man given to longwindedness has absolutely no clue that there is something wrong with him. It is a malady that must be vigilantly guarded against, because it is very easy to fall in love with the sound of one’s own voice and the brilliance of one’s opinions. Moreover, it is a lifelong battle– something that is never quite won.
As to why so many people go on and on without saying much is because they have an unjustifiably favourable opinion of their views as well as their powers of expression– the confidence in their ability to come up with the right words extempore. Typically, they are wrong on both counts. Individuals who are interesting as well as eloquent enough to be pleasing to the ear for long periods of time happen to be extremely rare. Most mortals would be well advised to be as brief as possible and to plan ahead (and preferably to rehearse) what they have in mind to say. Unfortunately, most folks have too high an opinion of their engaging abilities to even consider the possibility that preparing in advance may not be such a bad idea.
In addition to being exasperating and sometimes outright cringeworthy, longwindedness is often used as a deliberate equivocating strategy. For example, which politician (or spouse) has never used lengthy speeches to be deliberately ambiguous, thereby avoiding committing to a specific stance?
Verbosity is undeniably at odds with knowledge and wisdom. The less one knows about something, the easier it is to talk about it because one is too ignorant to notice the hostages one gives (in the form of obvious errors) to one’s listeners. No wonder people keep talking hours on end on topics they have no clue about. In sharp contrast, knowledge of a subject has a way of making one circumspect and cautious while talking about it. It is this discipline and exercise in care and caution that over the years approaches something like wisdom.
There is the episode of when Maulana Muhammad Ali Jauhar received a letter from a college principal. The principal had invited him to deliver a speech at his institute, and wanted to know the date that suited him. Jauhar wrote back, asking how long he was supposed to speak for. The principal replied that it was completely up to the Maulana because there was no time restriction for him. Jauhar told him that he needed a week of preparation if it was going to be a 15-minutes speech. But if it was open-ended, then he was ready any time.
Having for many years been a witness to its unfortunate effects in everyday life as well as in a domain I am most familiar with, that is, education, I am convinced that longwindedness is a much bigger issue than being a mere irritant. While marking exam papers, one often sees it being used as a conscious ploy to hide ignorance or confusion: The student clearly does not know what to say. So, he writes a lot without saying anything, and hopes that his tactic goes unnoticed.
In most cases however, it is not deliberate. For example, what most student presentations have in common is that they start at a pleasantly leisurely pace, which is sustained for a while. Soon, however, it becomes impossible to ignore the constraints of time, which means that the rest is then rushed. Almost always the root of the problem is either the inclination to say too much, or the failure to plan ahead (or both).
Teachers are equally given to verbosity, if not more. Ironically, the more an instructor knows his subject, the greater the temptation to turn up for the lecture unprepared. The convenience of not having to prepare beforehand is too tempting. It is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that they can do it on-the-spot. Because they do not plan, they cover little despite saying a lot, miss the crucial stuff and spend time on comparatively trivial matters instead, repeating themselves excessively. Comprehensiveness and coherence both suffer as a result.
In class, as in life in general, there is always less time at one’s hand than one wishes for. There are always more things one wants to teach than the time allows. That is where brevity helps. Because it is achieved via the crucial act of getting one’s priorities right. Teachers would do well to occasionally remind themselves that every lecture is a performance, which like a good stage play needs a script. The script ensures that the available time is optimally spent. Like experienced stage performers, with practice they learn how to be interesting and spontaneous while adhering to the script.
Let me end by recounting the episode when Maulana Muhammad Ali Jauhar received a letter from a college principal. The principal had invited him to deliver a speech at his institute, and wanted to know the date that suited him. Jauhar wrote back, asking how long he was supposed to speak for. The principal replied that it was completely up to the Maulana because there was no time restriction for him. Jauhar told him that he needed a week of preparation if it was going to be a 15-minutes speech. But if it was open-ended, then he was ready any time.
