I often use the phrase “to put it simply” (or “concisely”). Concise mention is not a foundational element of communication; rather, it is a specialized technique suited for specific situations. To put it simply, such a situation is one where the subject must be emphasized, often resulting in a forceful expression. Conciseness emphasizes an object by shearing away what is deemed redundant and carving out a specific part.
On the other hand, communication is an exchange of words, and its intricacy varies depending on the “resolution” of the content. Conciseness inherently lowers this resolution. While it is a skill that allows one to grasp the whole by capturing key points, it is highly doubtful whether this should serve as the bedrock of verbal expression. Though I admit to using the word “concisely” frequently, I must also confess that I doubt whether I have ever used it with conscious mastery. For me, “conciseness” was always the baseline of conveying information. I had a tendency to “simply” assume that lowering the resolution would make things easier to understand. Looking back, I see this as a characteristic—perhaps a bad habit—of my past communication.
In concise communication, whether in speech or writing, not only is the resolution low, but the expression tends to become intense. It becomes inflammatory, making it easier to exert some form of influence on the listener. Such inflammatory expressions, however, sway not only the recipient but the sender as well. Concise communication can be equated to “minimalist” communication, something often demanded in a professional context because brevity is effective for specific goals. In business, concise exchanges provide a powerful sense of direction. Yet, providing a powerful direction and being inflammatory are of the same species. Concise communication yields different effects depending on where it is applied, and I had completely misunderstood its usage. (Whether I would fare better in a professional setting is another matter; thus far, I can only say such a skill has not been required of me.)
I noted that conciseness lowers resolution by cutting away the redundant, but this raises the question of where the boundary is drawn before the resolution is even lowered. This may be why conciseness works in business: it is relatively easy to draw a line around a specific task. However, excessive conciseness does more than just lower resolution; it obscures the very criteria by which that line was drawn. By shearing away parts of the whole, one risks inducing a narrowing of vision.
The resolution of a matter is not necessarily about clarifying causal relationships; rather, it is about observing the entanglements in greater detail. This is not always synonymous with “seeing clearly.” If resolution in photography is about increasing pixel count, it is synonymous with manifesting the subtle differences in color and tone. In a photograph, the framework is already decided by the photographer and the lens—the boundaries of the content have been set. Thus, we believe that increasing resolution makes the subject clearer. But if the framework is not set correctly, no amount of resolution will help us discern what the subject is. Just as a macro shot of a wooden desk might look like an indistinguishable plank, we cannot tell what we are looking at without context.
While the elements of reality are not uniform squares like pixels, we can think of the resolution of things as various elements with their own “colors” sitting side-by-side. We find causal relationships there, and we can see many such elements. Thus, we feel that increasing resolution makes things clearer. However, this is predicated on the condition that the framework of the whole has already been established—much like a photographer chooses where to draw the line.
