30 minutes with a stranger
These two people are volunteers for a research project. Let’s call them Kate and Dawn.
They don’t know each other.
Researchers instructed them to get on this video call and talk to their partner for 30 minutes.
They could talk about whatever they wanted.
In this story, we’ll go through 30 minutes of conversation between the people you see here.
They are a subset of nearly 1,700 conversations between about 1,500 people as part of a research project called the CANDOR corpus. The goal was to gather a huge amount of data to spur research on how we converse.
Click on a person to explore.
These conversations paired people across demographics, including…
Age
Race
Educational attainment
Political ideology
Before the conversation began, participants were asked how they felt. Most said they felt just average.
Then they were paired up and the conversation began.
At the beginning of the conversation, many people said they felt the same or worse than before the call!
We’ve gotten quite good at being with people who are similar to us. We often live near people of the same race and class. The education system funnels us into the same schools and similar jobs. Online algorithms group us with like-minded people. These relationships are called “bonding” social capital—a term popularized by Robert Putnam in his landmark 2000 book, Bowling Alone.
But Putnam also pointed out that what we’re missing is “bridging” social capital—relationships with people unlike us. Most of our friends are of the same race and class as we are. We have the same political views as most of our friends. And the number of people who say they trust others has been decreasing for generations:
Americans who say most people can be trusted
That might contribute to why we really don’t want to talk to strangers.
In 2014 study, researchers conducted a series of experiments on Illinois trains and buses.
Some commuters were told to keep to themselves during their trip; these participants predicted the isolation would give them a positive experience.
Other commuters were told to talk to strangers; these participants predicted they would have a negative experience. They assumed strangers wouldn’t want to talk to them, that strangers wouldn’t like them, and that they would have trouble maintaining a conversation.
After all, what if the person you approach gets angry? What if they accuse you of harassing them? What if they just think you’re weird?
Hank, 38, held a beer and vaped during this conversation. He told Faith, 20, that he recently made four pounds of shredded chicken.
This led to a conversation about how he used to be a chef, but he couldn’t imagine going back to that job.
Raúl, 43, downplayed the seriousness of Covid-19 at the start of this call.
Paige, 28, said she used to work at a senior living facility and that people didn’t care enough about Covid-19 because it mostly kills old people.
This prompted a conversation about eldercare.
We’re now about 13 minutes into the conversations.
At the beginning of the conversation, most people felt the same as they did before the call.
But let’s see how their moods changed as the conversation progressed.
By the middle of the conversation, a huge portion of people reported feeling better than at the start of the conversation.
Dawn is now telling Kate about why she decided to go into teaching, after getting some hints that Kate is a college professor.
In the 2014 study on Illinois trains and buses, researchers followed up with people who were asked to talk to strangers—the people who predicted they wouldn’t enjoy the experience. What these participants reported back was almost no rejections, pleasant conversations, and an overall positive experience.
This phenomenon has been replicated in several experiments. Whether it’s interacting with strangers in a scavenger hunt, meeting new people in a college dorm, or chatting up a barista, researchers have repeatedly found that people don’t think they’ll enjoy interacting with strangers.
But after the interaction, participants tend to say it was a positive experience.
Early in the pandemic, the activity people missed most were things like going to restaurants, the gym, church, and the barbershop—places where we’re around strangers and acquaintances, or “weak ties.” We normally have between 11 and 16 interactions with weak ties each day, but devoid of these spontaneous opportunities, only 15% of Americans said they made a new acquaintance during the pandemic.
I watched the entirety of many conversations. (I can’t publish the videos because of privacy concerns.) I was surprised how many of these conversations touched on intimate topics—things they might not even tell their friends or family.
Dawn started telling Kate about what kind of teacher she wants to be, largely based on her experiences of the education system.
Not every conversation went smoothly. Several conversations were derailed by a comment that turned off the other person, and caused the conversation to grind to a halt.
But those interactions were rare. In most conversations, people enjoyed hearing about their partner’s life and sharing their own lives—even when they had very little in common.
We’re nearing the end of the 30-minute conversations.
Here’s how participants felt in the middle of the conversation.
At the end of the conversation, participants were asked how they felt.
By the end of the call, the large majority of people said they felt better than when the conversation began.
Here’s how much positive feelings increased on average in all 1,700 conversations:
To what extent do you feel positive feelings or negative feelings?
I’ve sorted the conversations by the age gap of the conversation partners—↑ smaller age gaps at the top, ↓ bigger age gaps at the bottom. People enjoyed talking to people, young and old.
Positive feeling, by the age gap of conversation partner
Now I’ve put conversations between people of ↑ different races at the top and ↓ same races at the bottom. Interracial conversations tended to lead to positive experiences about as much as they did for people of the same race.
Positive feeling, by whether conversation partner is the same race
And most conversations between people with the ↑ same political ideology and ↓ differing political ideologies also had similar outcomes.
Positive feeling, by how different the conversation partner’s politics are
Social trust is critical for us to tackle some of the biggest problems ahead of us: the erosion of democracy, the emergence of AI, our warming planet, and more.
In a 2021 study, researchers looked at why social trust has decreased on an individual level. What they found was that income dissatisfaction, our experience of losing a job, and our decreasing confidence in political institutions account for most of the decline in trust. In short, we’ve created a world that is precarious and unstable for most people.
I feel this, too. I’m scared by the big and small things happening in our world. I feel my environment crumbling around me, my sense of safety waning. I’ve looked at homes for sale in remote areas where I can disappear with my friends and family—where I don’t have to rely on strangers.
By the end of these conversations, several participants seemed to realize that they may never see their conversation partner again, and had to say their bittersweet goodbyes.
A few months ago, I was taking the subway to work when a 16-year-old boy slipped on the subway platform and hit his chin on the ground. He stumbled onto the train and stood next to me. I kept my earbuds in and tried to convince myself this wasn’t my problem. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw that he’d split open his chin; blood and tears were gushing down his face. I looked around the train for someone else to help—maybe someone who works with kids. No one even looked up. So I grabbed some tissues from my backpack, turned to him, and told him to hold it against his chin. He was in shock. I tried to calm him down and told him to go to the nurse’s office when he got to school.
All I could think was: What if that was me? Who would help me? Would everyone stand around like they’re doing now?
But when I ran out of tissues to stop this kid’s bleeding, people on the train noticed and handed me disinfectant wipes, paper towels, and bandages. We were able to stop the bleeding. When I got off the train, another stranger got up and stood by his side.
When we’re wounded, we don’t trust the people around us. We shelter away because we think it’s the only way to be safe. We let strangers suffer because, in this emotional state, everyone is a threat. That means it’s hard to work with others to build the world we want. We’re left to hunker down for the inevitable dystopia that is to come.
But I don’t want to live in that world. I want to feel safe. I want to help others to feel safe. And I want people to do the same for me—regardless of whether I’m a stranger or not.