It began with two encounters on the same day. In a nearly empty train car, a woman in her seventies approached me and asked, “Do you mind if I sit here? Or did you want to be alone with your thoughts?” I hesitated for just a moment, aware that saying yes meant agreeing to talk. “No, of course I don’t mind. Sit down.”
She turned out to be pleasant and kind, and she’d had a hard day. I didn’t need to say much—just things like, “I’m sorry to hear that,” or, “That sounds tough.” She asked me a few questions about myself, which I gently sidestepped. I could tell she was only asking to keep the conversation from feeling one-sided. Sometimes listening is enough, without sharing back. I had a sense, without needing details, that she was probably going home to an empty house and just needed to talk through her day. I didn’t feel uneasy, knowing I could always excuse myself by saying I needed to check my phone. But I didn’t. Instead, we talked—or rather, I listened—for most of the fifty-minute ride. I noted how unusual this kind of connection felt, but didn’t dwell on it. Part of me was quietly glad these moments still happen.
That evening, I had dinner with my family at a restaurant. When the waitress brought the bill, we chatted and I learned she was from Seoul. She was shy and soft-spoken. We talked a little about Korean food and what she missed from home. Again, I didn’t think much of it.
Walking home, my fifteen-year-old son asked, “Is it okay to talk to people like that?” “Like what?” He was wondering about the boundaries when talking to someone about their home country.
It was a very good question. How do you know, in general, what the rules are for talking to a stranger? I realized there’s an unwritten code you pick up as you grow older, one that helps you gauge whether starting a conversation is a good idea. I thought about the woman on the train. How did she know it was okay to talk to me? In the end, I told my son, “You don’t always know if it’s okay. Sometimes you have to take the risk and find out.”
Then it hit me. A lot of people have stopped taking chances on others—that they might want to listen, or that they might want to talk. But they’ve also stopped taking chances on themselves—that they might be able to handle a conversation with someone new, deal with rejection, or steer through misunderstandings.
The disappearance of these everyday interactions—in pubs, restaurants, shops, queues, on public transport—is striking. I’ve been talking to people about this indirectly for the past ten years, ever since I began researching my book How to Own the Room, which came out in 2018 and later became a podcast. That project was meant to be about public speaking and confidence. But from people’s reactions—especially younger people—I realized their deepest anxiety lies elsewhere, in something more ordinary and harder to name. Forget “public speaking.” What many people really dislike now is “speaking to anyone in public.”
There are many reasons given: noise-canceling headphones, smartphones and social media, the rise of remote work, touchscreen ordering that removes human interaction, the decline of third places, the pandemic. Ultimately, the biggest excuse becomes “social norm reinforcement”—the idea that if no one talks to you, you don’t talk to anyone either. A casual chat in a waiting room, when no one else is chatting, suddenly feels anything but casual.
On a personal level, some people understandably point to neurodivergence, introversion, or social anxiety.Some people avoid conversations by citing introversion, an inability to tolerate eye contact, or a strong dislike for small talk—especially about the weather. It’s true that six years ago, at the height of lockdown, starting a chat would have been considered rude and unsafe, let alone sitting next to someone on a train. But now? It often feels like everyone is still following the two-metre rule, using “the tech shield” or even “phantom phone use”—pretending to be busy on your phone when you’re not.
This issue runs deeper than adolescent angst or personal preference, and possibly even deeper than our overreliance on phones. We are losing a fundamental human skill: the ability to speak to others and understand them is diminishing.
Dr. Jared Cooney Horvath, a cognitive neuroscientist who focuses on speech, has warned that Generation Z is the first in history to underperform the previous generation on cognitive measures. Dr. Rangan Chatterjee, a bestselling author and father of two teenagers, recently noted, “I think we’re raising a generation of children who have low self-worth, who don’t know how to conduct conversations.”
It’s not just affecting young people. Psychologist Esther Perel calls it a “global relational recession.” She writes, “The point is not depth. The point is practice, the gentle strengthening of our social muscles.” On her YouTube channel, she recently introduced the topic of “Talking to Strangers in 2026.”
Something that once came naturally is now a subject of longing and fascination, treated like a rare anthropological phenomenon. Social media is filled with earnest, well-meaning videos cataloging encounters with the unknown “other,” often categorized under “social anxiety,” “extrovert,” or “talking to strangers.” Many carry an unstated theme of being “out and about in the big city.” Some are personal experiments—often ill-advised—like challenging yourself to tell a joke to an entire train carriage or complimenting an older woman on her appearance. The person filming, usually young, is often trying to improve themselves, become braver, or reduce social anxiety, using the camera as an accountability partner. The people they talk to are reduced to a “task to be ticked off the list,” or the interaction aims for a Hallmark card effect: “Look, other people aren’t as horrible as you thought.”
The problem with these social media experiments is that they are performative and individualistic. There’s an element of commodification: the encounter must be suitable for digital packaging. Often, it’s unclear if filming is consensual. The connections are one-way and border on exploitative or manipulative, designed for personal growth, free self-therapy, or clicks and voyeurism. This makes “talking to absolutely anyone” seem even more alienating, fake, and narcissistic. It has spawned parody videos, like comedian Al Nash’s “A cup of tea with a stranger—an amazing conversation!” In the clip, an irritating interviewer offers tea to a stranger on a park bench under the guise of “helping with loneliness,” only for the encounter to turn awkward when the stranger accidentally drops and smashes the cup.
Instead, take inspiration from Mr. Hewitt and Mr. Boucker, shown here having a neighbourly chat in 1957.It’s only natural to fear rejection, humiliation, giving offense, or overstepping a boundary when we start a conversation—or even when we respond to someone else’s attempt. But according to a study from the University of Virginia, we exaggerate these fears in our minds: “People tend to underestimate how much they’ll enjoy the conversation, feel connected to their conversation partner, and be liked by their conversation partner.”
The key is to lower the stakes. Make it less of a big deal. Don’t focus on what could go wrong, but also don’t focus on how amazing it could be. You’re just saying, “It’s cold today, isn’t it?” You’re not asking someone to join you on a quest for world peace. Similarly, if someone approaches you and you don’t want to respond, be confident and clear with your gestures—like looking down and avoiding eye contact—or with words: “I can’t talk right now.”
In her work on kindness, University of Sussex psychologist Gillian Sandstrom calls these conversational attempts “small, humanizing acts.” It’s important to emphasize the “small” part. Sometimes people are overwhelmed by how big the fear of interaction feels in their minds, especially when compared to the simple reality of the moment. Don’t read too much into passing interactions. Trust yourself to read social cues and understand where you stand. Know yourself and your own personality. Not everyone wants to talk, and not everyone wants to be talked to—and that’s okay. It can depend on the day or your mood.
Give yourself an easy way out in these conversations. If someone doesn’t respond, assume they didn’t hear you or they’re having a bad day. If someone talks to you and you feel uncomfortable or you’re having a bad day, it’s not your job to be kind or nice. If their attempt was well-meaning, they’ll get over it. We don’t need to avoid each other, but we also don’t have to be on autopilot with niceness all the time.
In any case, our worst fears about these interactions rarely come true. Last year, a team led by Stanford psychologist Professor Jamil Zaki put up posters around campus with messages about approachability and warmth. They found that what students needed most was permission—a reminder to “take a chance.” They concluded: “Too often, we’re sure that conversation and connection will exhaust us, or that we can’t count on others.” In our minds, we paint people (and ourselves) as deeply disappointing, but they—and we—are rarely that bad. And even if they are, it will make a good story to tell later to the people who aren’t strangers.
Will talking to someone in a shop about the chance of rain change your life? Probably not. But given the current state of the world, even the slightest possibility of brightening someone’s day is valuable. It’s certainly worth the effort. Perhaps how they respond matters less than the fact that you held onto your humanity enough to try something, to take a risk, to connect.
Small talk may not profoundly change your life, but its absence will profoundly change human life as we know it. We live in a world of intense and often unnecessary division. Small talk is a tiny, free, and possibly priceless reminder of our shared humanity. If we intentionally give up talking to strangers, if we purposely hide behind our phones, the consequences will be grim. Arguably, we’re already on the verge of doing this. Let’s step back and start a conversation before it’s too late.Roskop is hosting a masterclass titled “How to Own the Room” at the Royal Geographical Society in London on March 5th. Tickets are available at howtoacademy.com.
Frequently Asked Questions
FAQs The Hidden Art of Connecting with Anyone
Basics Definitions
Q What exactly is the hidden art of connecting
A Its the set of oftenoverlooked skills and mindsets that allow you to build genuine rapport trust and understanding with people quickly and authentically beyond just surfacelevel small talk
Q Isnt this just another term for networking or social skills
A Not exactly While networking is often goaloriented and social skills are broad this art focuses on the deeper humantohuman elementcreating a real sense of being seen and understood regardless of the context
Q Why is it called a hidden art
A Because the most effective techniques arent about being the loudest or most charming Theyre subtle like listening deeply asking the right questions and being authentically presentthings we know matter but often forget to practice
Why It Matters The Benefits
Q Why does connecting with anyone even matter in my daily life
A Strong connections reduce loneliness increase your support network open doors to opportunities improve teamwork and make both personal and professional interactions more fulfilling and less stressful
Q Whats the biggest benefit of being good at this
A You build a foundation of trust rapidly People are more likely to help you collaborate with you and be open with you which enriches every area of your life
Q Can this help me in my career
A Absolutely Most career advancement hinges on relationships Mastering this art helps you build better rapport with colleagues managers clients and mentors leading to more influence and opportunities
Common Problems Challenges
Q Im an introvert Is this art still for me
A Yes definitely This isnt about being the life of the party Its about quality over quantity Introverts often excel at deep listening and thoughtful conversation which are core to genuine connection
Q Whats the most common mistake people make when trying to connect
A Focusing too much on what theyre going to say next instead of truly listening to the other person This makes the conversation feel transactional not personal
Q How do I connect with someone who seems very different from me
A Focus on shared human
