A theme of the age, at least in the developed world, is that people crave silence and can find none. The roar of traffic, the ceaseless beep of phones, digital announcements in buses and trains, TV sets blaring even in empty offices, are an endless battery and distraction. The human race is exhausting itself with noise and longs for its opposite—whether in the wilds, on the wide ocean or in some retreat dedicated to stillness and concentration. Alain Corbin, a history professor, writes from his refuge in the Sorbonne, and Erling Kagge, a Norwegian explorer, from his memories of the wastes of Antarctica, where both have tried to escape.
And yet, as Mr Corbin points out in "A History of Silence", there is probably no more noise than there used to be. Before pneumatic tyres, city streets were full of the deafening clang of metal-rimmed wheels and horseshoes on stone. Before voluntary isolation on mobile phones, buses and trains rang with conversation. Newspaper-sellers did not leave their wares in a mute pile, but advertised them at top volume, as did vendors of cherries, violets and fresh mackerel. The theatre and the opera were a chaos of huzzahs and barracking. Even in the countryside, peasants sang as they drudged. They don’t sing now.
What has changed is not so much the level of noise, which previous centuries also complained about, but the level of distraction, which occupies the space that silence might invade. There looms another paradox, because when it does invade—in the depths of a pine forest, in the naked desert, in a suddenly vacated room—it often proves unnerving rather than welcome. Dread creeps in; the ear instinctively fastens on anything, whether fire-hiss or bird call or susurrus of leaves, that will save it from this unknown emptiness. People want silence, but not that much. | Yon tèm epòk la, omwens nan lemonn devlope a, se ke moun yo anvi silans epi pa ka jwenn li. Gwonnman trafik la, bleng telefòn yo san fen, anonsman dijital yo nan bis yo ak tren yo, televizyon yo ap sonnen fò menm nan biwo vid yo, se yon batri san rete ak yon distraksyon. Ras imèn nan ap fatige kò li avèk bri epi soupire pou lekontrè li- kit se nan raje a, sou gran lanmè, kit se nan yon rakwen ki dedye à silans ak konsantrasyon. Alain Corbin, yon pwofesè listwa, ekri nan refij li nan Sòbòn nan, epi Erling Kagge, yon eksploratè nòvèj, nan memwa li yo de dezè Antatik yo, kote toulede te eseye chape. Epi toujou, kòm mesye Corbin montre nan "Yon Istwa Silans ", poutèt pa gen plis bri ke anvan. Anvan kawoutchou lè konprese yo, ri lavil yo te plen son asanblaj wou jant metal yo avèk fè sou wòch. Anvan izolasyon volontè sou telefòn pòtab yo, bis yo ak tren yo te sonnen ak konvèsasyon. Machann jounal yo pa t kite machandiz pa yo nan yon pil soud, men te anonse yo byen fò, menm jan ak machann seriz yo, vyolèt yo ak makwo frè. Tèyat la ak opera a te yon dezòd konsantman ak ankourajman. Menm nan pwovens lan, peyizan yo te chante pandan yo te bourike. Men yo pa chante kounye a. Sa ki te chanje pa vreman nivo bri an, kont sa ki syèk anvan yo te plenyen, men se te nivo distraksyon an, ki okipe espas lan ki silans lan ta ka anvayi. Se la kote yon lòt paradoks menase, paske lè l anvayi—nan fon yon forè bwa pen, nan dezè toutouni an, nan yon chanm toudenkou vid—souvan li rive plis ennèvan ke yon akèy. Freyè ranpe; San reflechi zòrèy la fikse sou nenpòt bagay, oswa sifle dife oubyen rèl zwazo oubyen fwoufwou fèy yo, ki pral epànye li nan vid enkoni sa a. Moun yo vle silans, men pa anpil konsa. |