The Call-In Defense: How Opting for Phone Over Video Reveals Power Plays in Conversation
By Michael Kelman Portney
Let’s get something straight right away: when someone chooses to communicate by phone instead of video, especially in high-stakes or emotionally charged conversations, it’s not just a matter of convenience. It’s rhetorical. It’s psychological. It’s strategic.
And in many cases, it’s about power.
For all the ink spilled about communication styles, tone, body language, and emotional intelligence, we rarely talk about the medium itself. But the decision to opt for voice-only over full presence is not neutral. It’s a move. A message. A boundary. A tactic.
Marshall McLuhan said it decades ago: "The medium is the message." That statement, misunderstood and misused by undergrad communications majors everywhere, is actually one of the most insightful statements ever made about human interaction. And nowhere is that more obvious than when someone says, "Can we just do a phone call instead?"
Because what they're really saying might be, "I don’t want to be seen." Or more precisely: "I don’t want to be read."
What Hides in a Phone Call
Phone calls, for all their nostalgic charm, are a filter. They strip away expression. They allow for performance without observation. A phone call lets someone maintain a polished tone while their face tells a different story. It permits long pauses, unseen glances at notes, nervous pacing, smirks, or eye rolls—all of which would be dissonant on video.
A phone call is the emotional VPN of conversation. It lets people say one thing while feeling another without revealing the contradiction.
This isn’t always malicious. Sometimes it’s a comfort mechanism, especially for those with social anxiety or sensory sensitivities. But in high-stakes settings—conflict resolution, negotiations, apologies, reconciliations, or moments that demand truth—choosing phone over video is often less about comfort and more about control.
Visual Presence is Vulnerability
Being seen is a form of accountability. When someone opts into video, they're accepting that they can’t just curate their voice. They’re submitting their facial expressions, eye contact (or lack thereof), posture, and nonverbal reactions to scrutiny.
And for people who use language to manipulate, control, or distort narratives, that’s a liability.
Let’s be blunt: the person who says they can’t figure out how to click the video link but can send five emails that same day isn’t avoiding technology—they’re avoiding being witnessed.
It’s the same energy as someone who writes an apology but refuses to meet your eyes in person. Or someone who insists on texting because "it’s easier to express themselves that way"—but only when they’re being evasive.
In digital environments, video is the new eye contact. And for those who fear exposure, phone calls are the perfect dodge.
Audio-Only as Power Preservation
In dynamics where power is uneven, the person who benefits from that imbalance will often resist full presence. That’s because being seen levels the playing field. It removes ambiguity. It lets the other person catch the micro-expressions, the hesitations, the insincerities.
Video introduces risk for the manipulative speaker. It forces congruence between voice and expression.
So when someone says, “Let’s just do a phone call,” what they might mean is:
“I want to maintain emotional distance.”
“I don’t want you to read me too closely.”
“I plan to say things that won’t match how I feel.”
“I want plausible deniability.”
And in some cases, “I want the power to end the call without having to look you in the eye.”
The Subtle Art of Hiding
Avoiding video isn’t just about avoiding the other person—it’s about avoiding the mirror.
To look someone in the eyes, even over Zoom, is to confront yourself. To be seen reacting. To watch your own discomfort reflected in their face. And that is often unbearable for people with something to hide.
In fact, many people who seek to maintain control in relationships do so by choosing how a conversation happens. They don’t have to win the debate if they can script the stage. And the medium of phone, without video, is the perfect minimalist theater: all sound, no light.
If you can’t see them, you can’t catch the wince. The smirk. The moment of pleasure they get when twisting the knife with a calm voice.
Phone gives the illusion of intimacy with none of the mess.
Medium as Message, Revisited
So yes—McLuhan was right. The medium is the message. And choosing the phone in place of video is a message that says:
“I want to be in control.”
“I want to limit your access to my full humanity.”
“I want you to question your instincts because you can’t see my face.”
This is most potent in emotionally loaded conversations: apologies, confrontations, family reconciliations, accountability dialogues. If someone chooses a phone call for those moments, they’re not choosing communication—they’re choosing containment.
The voice can be modulated. The face cannot.
The Workaround: Ask Why
If someone asks to do an important conversation over the phone instead of video, ask: why?
And if they say, "Video is too intense," that may be true. But then follow with: "Too intense for who? And why does that intensity matter?"
You’ll learn quickly whether the person is protecting themselves—or hiding from the truth.
Final Thoughts: Look Me in the Eyes
You don’t need to be in the same room to tell the truth. But you do need to be willing to be seen.
If someone isn’t—ask yourself what they’re really afraid of. And if you’re the one tempted to choose the call over the video, ask what it is you don’t want them to see.
Because sometimes, the greatest honesty in any dialogue isn’t in the words at all. It’s in the flinch. The eye roll. The stiff smile. The cracked voice right before the sentence lands.
And none of that comes through on a call.
Which is exactly why some people choose it.
