Why Video Calls Feel Like a Performance

On a video call, silence feels awkward. It turns a conversation into a performance where every moment, even a pause to think, gets judged. Neil Postman talks about this in Amusing Ourselves to Death, but let me try to explain it with an example.

Imagine you're watching a political debate on TV. A candidate is asked a tough question, and instead of answering right away, they go silent. The camera zooms in on their face, holding for a few seconds before switching to another angle. The silence stretches on. Another few seconds pass, and now we’re looking at the host, who starts to look uncomfortable, maybe considering cutting to commercial break. The candidate is still quiet, just staring off into space, thinking. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, they respond with one word: “No.”

Now, you probably don’t even need to know the question to decide this person isn’t winning any elections. It just feels wrong. But what if I told you they were simply taking 15 seconds to carefully think through their answer?

Here’s the issue: on video, even a short pause can come across as incompetence or hesitation. We’re so used to the rhythm of TV, where the average shot lasts just 3.5 seconds, that silence feels long. On video, time gets stretched in weird ways, and when nothing is happening, it feels like everything is going wrong.

This obsession with eliminating silence isn't limited to video calls. Look at TikTok or YouTube Shorts, where creators edit out every single pause to make their speech flow unnaturally fast. The cadence of spoken language starts to sound like written text. Every thought is delivered back-to-back without a moment to breathe. While this makes videos more engaging, it also trains us to see silence as wasted space.

But silence isn’t wasted. It’s where ideas are born.

In my old job, we used to brainstorm in a small conference room. We’d sketch ideas on the whiteboard, then sit there in silence, staring at it. Sometimes, one of us would break the quiet with a tentative “What if we tried... no, never mind,” before going quiet again. It wasn’t awkward; it was productive. The silence gave us space to think.

When the pandemic hit, we tried to recreate this over Zoom. It didn’t work. The silence on video wasn’t the same. Instead of collaborative thinking, it felt like we were waiting for someone to perform. Every pause felt like dead air that needed to be filled.

Picture this: a Zoom call with a dozen people. Cameras are off because no one wants to turn them on. Someone suggests an idea, and then... silence. All you hear is the faint hum of someone's mic and maybe a dog barking in the distance. The silence stretches on, and instead of feeling like thinking time, it feels like failure. Who’s going to break it? Who’s going to “perform”?

This is the problem with video calls. They’re designed for action. They turn every moment into something that needs to be seen or heard. When there’s nothing happening—no one talking or moving—it feels like a mistake. In person, silence feels natural, like part of the process. On Zoom, it feels like failure.

The truth is, silence is essential for good brainstorming. It gives ideas room to breathe. But video calls and fast-edited social media clips train us to avoid it, to fill every second with something. Maybe it’s time to reset our expectations. Silence isn’t the enemy. Sometimes, it’s exactly what we need to make progress.

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