You may be interested in Raymonde Carroll's Cultural Misunderstandings, which is about differences in French vs American cultures and how these manifest in everyday affairs. Much of the second chapter ("Conversation") is devoted to puzzling out the differences between what you call the interrupt culture, and Carroll classifies as the norm for French conversation, vs the wait culture, which for her is the norm for American conversation.
A few quotations (there's much more on this in the book):
a party, in a university town in the United States, in honor of a well-known French academic. The host and most of the guests are French. There are a few scattered Americans. The French academic, who has just been introduced to an American historian, looks interested. “I’m very interested in history . . . Are you familiar with Z (famous American historian)?” “Yes.” “What do you think of his latest book?” The American responds, talking about what he thinks of the book in question. The Frenchman, having stopped listening at a certain point, is glancing around the living room, and he eagerly widens the circle when another Frenchman approaches and “brutally interrupts” the conversation with a joke. The newcomer turns to the American, “What are you working on right now?” The latter, who has learned his lesson, responds briefly with “Oh, the same thing” and makes a joke. This little scene was described to me by the American in question, who added, “I really don’t understand French people; they only pretend to ask questions. This behavior especially surprised me coming, as it did, from such a famous man. He had no need to ask the question if he wasn’t interested in the answer. Of course I wasn’t going to fall into the same trap twice, so I joked ‘French-style’ instead of answering.” Americans often expressed surprise in my presence at the fact that French people, “who claim to be very big on manners,” are themselves so “rude”: “they interrupt you all the time in conversation,” “they finish your sentences for you,” “they ask you questions and never listen to the answer,” and so on. French people, on the other hand, often complain that American conversations are “boring,” that Americans respond to the slightest question with a “lecture,” that they “go all the way back to Adam and Eve,” and that they “know nothing about the art of conversation.”
[...]Let’s see what happens in a simple conversation between two French people. I (the speaker) look at my interlocutor, watch for signs of boredom or inattention. If the other person’s gaze begins to stray, to wander, I change my behavior, my tactic, or the subject, or else I cut myself short to allow him or her to speak. Of course, we are not talking about what truly happens in most cases but of the norm, the “ideal” situation which remains unchanged, no matter how often the rule is broken. In the inverse case (someone is speaking to me), I have several means at my disposal to intervene or to indicate that I want to speak: facial expressions, lips which open as if to say something but remain silent, slight body movements, or gestures. If this does not obtain the desired result and I still am unable to speak, I must make use of other signs—a barely audible inhalation which indicates that I am going to speak, a discreet sigh, a chopped-off word—or the stratagems of last resort—“speaking of which” “funny you should mention that”—which in general have nothing to do with the preceding conversation but rather indicate that I would like to say something too. If I start to look distracted or take on a vacant stare, it is to indicate, in what is still an acceptable manner, that I am ready to abandon the conversation since there is no place in it for me. If this has no effect, my only hope lies in the intervention of a third party (a friend met fortuitously on the street, a host or hostess, a guest, or a table companion at a meal or party) to save me from this “pain in the neck.” If worse comes to worst, I can avail myself of the excuses that have the disadvantage of being obvious: a telephone call to make, something urgent to tell someone else that I almost forgot, and the like. When I am pushed to this extreme, I am really resentful at the other for having “cornered” me, for having “kept me” (and therefore held me against my wishes), for having “monopolized the conversation” for “hours”—in short, for not having “given” me a chance to speak, that is, for having refused me all meaningful presence.
[...]American conversation is closer to a hike with two or more people in unknown territory than to a game on familiar territory—hence the need immediately to situate the participants (the territory) and the importance of cooperation. Each person will contribute to the exploration according to his or her knowledge and capacities. We may return from this hike with our hands empty or full, depending on the moment, the mood, and the quality of each person’s contribution. Consequently, if I (an American) am unsure of my information, I do not pretend to know but let whoever might know more speak. But if I have something to “contribute,” I can speak as long as seems necessary to respond to a question, to share my information. And I will listen to the other in the same way when it is his or her turn, no matter what the other’s style may be. And since when I am finished, I will spontaneously stop speaking, the other person will wait for this silence, different from that of a thoughtful pause, to speak in turn. Any other kind of behavior would look like an insulting interruption to me; I would interpret it as a sign of lack of interest or, even worse, as frivolous and annoying, as contributing nothing more than “noise,” “senseless commotion,” or signs of “impatience” to the conversation. In short, the interruption is more a commentary on the person who interrupts than on the person who is interrupted. We can now understand why Americans are shocked by the “rudeness” of French people who “interrupt you all the time.”
At the recent CFAR Workshop in NY, someone mentioned that they were uncomfortable with pauses in conversation, and that got me thinking about different conversational styles.
Growing up with friends who were disproportionately male and disproportionately nerdy, I learned that it was a normal thing to interrupt people. If someone said something you had to respond to, you’d just start responding. Didn’t matter if it “interrupted” further words – if they thought you needed to hear those words before responding, they’d interrupt right back.
Occasionally some weird person would be offended when I interrupted, but I figured this was some bizarre fancypants rule from before people had places to go and people to see. Or just something for people with especially thin skins or delicate temperaments, looking for offense and aggression in every action.
Then I went to St. John’s College – the talking school (among other things). In Seminar (and sometimes in Tutorials) there was a totally different conversational norm. People were always expected to wait until whoever was talking was done. People would apologize not just for interrupting someone who was already talking, but for accidentally saying something when someone else looked like they were about to speak. This seemed totally crazy. Some people would just blab on unchecked, and others didn’t get a chance to talk at all. Some people would ignore the norm and talk over others, and nobody interrupted them back to shoot them down.
But then a few interesting things happened:
1) The tutors were able to moderate the discussions, gently. They wouldn’t actually scold anyone for interrupting, but they would say something like, “That’s interesting, but I think Jane was still talking,” subtly pointing out a violation of the norm.
2) People started saying less at a time.
#1 is pretty obvious – with no enforcement of the social norm, a no-interruptions norm collapses pretty quickly. But #2 is actually really interesting. If talking at all is an implied claim that what you’re saying is the most important thing that can be said, then polite people keep it short.
With 15-20 people in a seminar, this also meant that people rarely tried to force the conversation in a certain direction. When you’re done talking, the conversation is out of your hands. This can be frustrating at first, but with time, you learn to trust not your fellow conversationalists individually, but the conversation itself, to go where it needs to. If you haven’t said enough, then you trust that someone will ask you a question, and you’ll say more.
When people are interrupting each other – when they’re constantly tugging the conversation back and forth between their preferred directions – then the conversation itself is just a battle of wills. But when people just put in one thing at a time, and trust their fellows to only say things that relate to the thing that came right before – at least, until there’s a very long pause – then you start to see genuine collaboration.
And when a lull in the conversation is treated as an opportunity to think about the last thing said, rather than an opportunity to jump in with the thing you were holding onto from 15 minutes ago because you couldn’t just interrupt and say it – then you also open yourself up to being genuinely surprised, to seeing the conversation go somewhere that no one in the room would have predicted, to introduce ideas that no one brought with them when they sat down at the table.
By the time I graduated, I’d internalized this norm, and the rest of the world seemed rude to me for a few months. Not just because of the interrupting – but more because I’d say one thing, politely pause, and then people would assume I was done and start explaining why I was wrong – without asking any questions! Eventually, I realized that I’d been perfectly comfortable with these sorts of interactions before college. I just needed to code-switch! Some people are more comfortable with a culture of interrupting when you want to, and accepting interruptions. Others are more comfortable with a culture of waiting their turn, and courteously saying only one thing at a time, not trying to cram in a whole bunch of arguments for their thesis.
Now, I’ve praised the virtues of wait culture because I think it’s undervalued, but there’s plenty to say for interrupt culture as well. For one, it’s more robust in “unwalled” circumstances. If there’s no one around to enforce wait culture norms, then a few jerks can dominate the discussion, silencing everyone else. But someone who doesn’t follow “interrupt” norms only silences themselves.
Second, it’s faster and easier to calibrate how much someone else feels the need to talk, when they’re willing to interrupt you. It takes willpower to stop talking when you’re not sure you were perfectly clear, and to trust others to pick up the slack. It’s much easier to keep going until they stop you.
So if you’re only used to one style, see if you can try out the other somewhere. Or at least pay attention and see whether you’re talking to someone who follows the other norm. And don’t assume that you know which norm is the “right” one; try it the “wrong” way and maybe you’ll learn something.
Cross-posted at my personal blog.