Australians spoke an average of 338 fewer words each day between 2005 and 2019. An oral historian who spent years inside the country’s largest public voice archive says that decline may signal something deeper: Australians could be losing their ability to listen.
The historian calls the drop “a staggering loss of 120,000 spoken words per person, compared with the year before.” The writer argues that AI tools and chatbots now promise quicker responses and so-called “empathetic” listening. Listening to different views and stepping into different worlds, the writer says, is integral to humanity.
“Language is culture,” the writer said. “It tells us who we are.”
A Public Archive of Ordinary Lives
The writer’s authority comes from years of service in a public institution. Between 2018 and early 2024, the writer led a team at the National Library of Australia responsible for what the piece calls the largest oral history collection in the southern hemisphere. The collection began in 1957, 69 years ago, and holds more than 58,000 hours of recordings. Much of it is free to access online through Trove.
The voices come from across the country. First Nations Australians speak about deep history and share first-person memories reaching back into the 19th century. Dame Mary Gilmore, born in 1865, 161 years ago, describes tallow candles and life before electricity. An Australian prime minister recalls winning election after their party spent 23 years in opposition. A mother describes seeking refuge in Australia after crossing pirate-infested seas following the Vietnam war. A pioneer stationed in Antarctica reflects on distance.
The next voice might be Dr Ella Stack, a Darwin doctor who survived Cyclone Tracy, stayed to help and recorded survivors’ memories. She later made sure Darwin was rebuilt as mayor.
The archive also holds memories of the 1891 Queensland shearers’ strikes, 135 years ago, and the conscription debates of the first world war. It includes testimonies from First Nations Australians who were part of the Stolen Generations. These recordings preserve past accents, words no longer spoken and accounts of professions that no longer exist. Some humorous memories, the writer says, left them crying with laughter.
What Listening Gives Back
The writer has listened to hundreds more hours from the collection while working on a book and an accompanying podcast. Thousands of Australians from different eras, places and backgrounds have shared their stories with the writer.
Listening to people with different backgrounds and perspectives, the writer says, can improve mental and physical wellbeing. It encourages information exchange, deepens understanding, sparks ideas and builds empathy. It lets people engage with others’ experiences without demanding instant gratification or artificial agreement. People grow more patient, appreciate difference and can disagree without being unnecessarily destructive.
“Empathy is the richest gift listening offers,” the writer said. “That will be our greatest loss if we speak and hear less.”
Distance doesn’t seem to blunt the effect. People separated by a century or more, and by very different backgrounds, can still connect through shared experiences of love, loss, change, challenge, joy and resilience. “These voices from the past can resonate as powerfully as ever in our present,” the writer said.
Why This Matters: The 338-word daily decline measures how much Australians talk, and the writer links it to how well they hear one another. Public institutions like the National Library keep records of that exchange, including testimony from Stolen Generations survivors and migrants and refugees who sought safety here. That record only works if people sit down and listen. The writer casts empathy as the casualty if speaking and hearing keep shrinking, and empathy underpins how a diverse democracy settles disagreement. The collection’s open access through Trove means these voices belong to everyone. Can a faster, automated substitute carry the same weight? The writer leaves that question squarely with readers.