Photo credits: Jakub Neskora / Unsplash
Thickness is a quality of many things. Walls can be thick and a slice of bread. Tyres as well as layers or strata can be thick. And, in a more recent vernacular of the colloquial kind, also sexualized body parts or a whole composure can be called thick. However, in listening to a whole situation, the term thick refers to a listener’s experience of the qualities of listening to this specific situation. So: what precisely is referred to with the thickness of what I listen to?
Thick listening and also a thick experience and its thick description are terms that are indeed used in two distinct areas: in ethnographic field research – and in a strand of care work. In both cases, the quality of thickness has to do a lot of lifting. Let me start with its employment in field research, as some readers of this text might be more familiar with this area.
In 1973 Clifford Geertz published his crucial book called “The Interpretation of Culture”, wherein he outlines and introduces the concept of “thick description” in the first chapter and exemplifies and works with it throughout the whole book. With using the word “thick”, Geertz took up reflections by philosopher Gilbert Ryle from five years prior on the very notion of this term. Therein Ryle had argued that one might distinguish thin from thick description through the amount of context and of behavioural and cultural knowledge (Ryle 1968a, 1968b, Kirchin 2013). A thin description remains an outsider perspective, whereas a thick description makes at least an effort to represent as much tacit and implicit knowledge (cf. Polanyi 1966, El Adraoui et al. 2024, Hadjimichael et al. 2024) as possible. Why has this metal moving object eaten those humanoid creatures and is now moving about while letting off steam? Why are these creatures with usually two legs walking aimlessly around, holding such weird plushy objects into the world, while wearing a set of plastic objects in their earlobes? Why am I standing here in front of a group of people, speaking in front of a large screen?
Geertz took this discussion and wrote core parts of his research as a “thick description”. He focused on specific moments, limited in time and space, including even sudden encounters within his field research. He crafted narrative vignettes from his field research in “a dazzlingly persuasive, densely detailed, dandily written account” (Titon 2015: 79): a style, replete with behavioural and cultural knowledge that resembled more the style of a novelist than a scholar. His dense, literary writing about ethnographic encounters started from the assumption that “culture is a semiotic system, so that all representation is in effect interdependent”(Luhrmann 2015: 292). Through Geertz’ thick descriptions, “some practice that on the surface seemed trivial or irrational” (ibid.), did indeed allow for insightful interpretation. The many details, contexts, aspects, and ramifications of this one practice could then be starting points for their further interpretation and understanding.
The actual thickness of these descriptions lies, therefore, again in every and “any bit of practice [that] implies much more than has ever been said.“ (Gendlin 1992: 201) The thickness of a description – and of listening –, is neither one of acoustic or grammatical quality. It is the thickness of practice.
This employment of the term thick had a major impact on the methodological reflection in ethnographic research. The second example, I wish to address, is currently employed by care practitioners, usually with a Christian background. In this case the term “thick” obtains the taint of a promise, a sort of an auditory problem solving strategy: if you just would listen much better and much more skilled, then the world, your (work-)relations, and all of your life and work would be in much better shape.
Thick listening in this understanding is a practice of better listening, framed as "a spiritual care competency [...] that is thick not only with attentiveness to the other but also concurrently with attentiveness to oneself” (Bellous & Clark 2022: xxiii). It is a mode of listening that at the same time serves as a spiritual practice intertwined with a form of self-optimisation of the listener. This interpretation of thick listening is addressing pastors or chaplains, who serve within a particular church's congregation or in secular institutions like hospitals or the army. Thick listening in this understanding is described as:
“a quality of multidimensional contemplative mindfulness that understands and appreciates the deep interfacing between everyday life experiences and thin moments, where separation brought about through differing worldviews, paradigms and filters increasingly thin and transparent” (Bellous & Clark 2022: 43f.)
The Christian proposition of a belief that transcends individual differences (“worldviews, paradigms and filters”, ibid.) is here clearly restaged as a contemporary, utilitarian practice of auditory self-optimization within care work, attaching it to the wider discourse on “mindfulness” (Siegel at al. 2009, Walsh 2016, Purser 2019). This thick practice is therefore less about a comprehensive listening to all sounds considered, from the perspective of research on sound, but much more about listening in therapeutic conversations, and care-related situations. For an advanced and politically impactful understanding of listening, this mode of listening and especially its refinement is without a doubt a crucial practice. However, its employment of the qualifier “thick” is a thoroughly different one. It focuses on understanding and engaging with the singular life situation of a client – and not on the multiple modes and pluriform presence of sounds and how to listen to them in any given moment.