The Listening Dilemma

Monday night, I received a call from an Our Times Recorder asking whether I had watched the City Council meeting. I could tell from the nervous quiver in her voice that something was up. “No,” I replied. “What happened?” “Things got really crazy,” she replied. And then she proceeded to tell me the tea.

Our Times Recorders is a program we have been piloting that trains and pays residents to attend local government meetings and community events to document what is happening. Interested? Contact us.

The recorder explained that much of the meeting had centered on public comment, with less attention than she expected devoted to the business we had prepared her to cover, including the river patrol measure. She asked questions, described what she saw and heard, and talked through how it made her feel. The longer we talked, the more I understood why this initiative matters. Showing up can teach you things an agenda cannot prepare you for. I reassured her that I would watch the meeting and follow up.

So, Tuesday, between phone calls, edits and emails, I watched. But more than that, I listened—to what I heard and what I did not hear. About 80 minutes later, after a few eye rolls, some laughs and a page of notes, I concluded: Our community, leaders included, may have a listening dilemma.

Two concerns stood out during public comments: youth violence and Flock.

Bosse High School student Jordan Payne delivered a thoughtful, heartfelt call for more support for young people following the tragic death of James Brown Jr. She invited the community to be part of the solution, calling for more positive people to share their stories with students through presentations and one-on-one conversations.

Here was a young person telling us how we could show up. “Let’s stop waiting for change, let’s start creating it.” There was applause. From council? No response to her remarks. That stayed with me.

Standing in those chambers before elected officials can be intimidating. No matter how many times I have done it, I still get nervous. Jordan stood there, spoke with conviction and delivered a clear message. I thought she was phenomenal.

Christopher Newman followed, raising questions that, to my ears, carried that conversation further. Underneath the discussions about gun violence, cameras and another life lost, what are young people asking us to understand? Do they feel that they matter? Are we making room for all their voices? My heart felt heavy, but hopeful.

I wished I could have been there to read the room. Sometimes listening happens through observation, too. Had those words landed? Were people considering how they could help? Or were they waiting for the issue they came to address?

Then the discussion turned to Flock.

A few months ago, Our Times published a story led and written by a Recorder that included interviews with the mayor, police chief and organizers of Deflock Evansville. Our goal was to help readers understand the arguments from supporters and opponents. So, I came to this discussion familiar with the disagreement.

Before public comment began, Paul Green explained that the city budget had already been approved and that Flock’s inclusion in it could not be changed. Then came the request that speakers avoid repeating points already made and offer something new.

At that moment, I could sense where this meeting was headed. To my ears, Green may as well have told them to shut the Flock up. Those are my words, not his. But that is how the message landed with me.

I get it. Local leaders may be tired of hearing opposition to Flock. Repeated arguments can wear on anyone. Still, public comment gives residents an opportunity to express support, disagreement and concern. Listening comes with the job, including when the decision has been made and the meeting is running long.

I also wondered how residents understood Green’s explanation about the budget. Had they missed it? Did they disagree? Did it leave them with questions, too?

As residents continued to the microphone, I heard comments grow more accusatory and aggressive. Tempers flared among council members. Eventually, a motion to end the meeting passed. That was a wise decision. But I kept thinking about how we got there.

One thing I have learned throughout my career and personal life is that sometimes people simply want to be heard. Other times, being heard is not enough. They want a response. They want action.

I think council has listened to opposers and supporters of Flock cameras. Council has also taken a position, reflected in its votes. But have officials clearly explained what remains open for discussion and what residents can realistically expect next?

And are concerns about potential harm being addressed? Even when examples come from elsewhere, it is reasonable to ask what could happen here and what safeguards might prevent it. I also wonder what solutions opponents would propose to support community safety and where there might be room to work together. Listening requires a willingness to understand an answer, even when we disagree with it. It also requires a meaningful response to the concern being raised.

That is why I keep coming back to Jordan. While much of the attention turned to Flock cameras, she was asking us to think about the young people growing up in our community and the places they have — or don’t have — to feel safe. Her concerns deserved attention, too.

And maybe that’s the dilemma we find ourselves in. We want our voices heard. We want our concerns acknowledged. We want our leaders to listen. But how often are we willing to extend that same courtesy to someone whose concerns aren’t our own? There was no shortage of people speaking that evening. What I left wondering was how much we were actually hearing.

Because a community where everyone has something to say, but no one is really listening, isn’t having a conversation at all.