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 sijè epòk la, nan monn devlope sa, se lefètke moun ap chèche silans epi yo pa ka rive jwenn li. Bwi sikilasyon, telefòn k ap sonnen san rete, piblisite nimerik nan bis avèk tren, epi menm aparèy televizyon k ap jwe nan biwo ki pa gen pèsòn yo se yon tanbou avèk yon distraksyon san fen. Lezòm ap fatige tèt yo avèk bwi pandan se silans yo vle,—kèlkeswa nan nati a, nan gran oseyan an oubyen nan kèk refij ki rezève pou detant avèk konsantrasyon. Alain Corbin, pwofesè istwa, ekri pandan refij li nan Sorbonne, avèk Erling Kagge, yon eksploratè Nòvejyen, nan souvni li de dechè Antaktik yo, yo toulede te eseye echape yo. Poutan, menmjan Mr Corbin mansyone l nan “A History of Silence’’ (Istwa Silans), petèt pa genyen bwi ankò nan fason te konn genyen nan tan pase yo. Anvan kawotchou van yo, lari vil yo te ranpli avèk vye bri jant metal an kawotchou k ap fè moun soud avèk fè cheval sou wòch. Anvan moun te konn rete pou kont yo nan telefòn mobil, bis avèk tren te konn gen bwi lè moun ap pale ant yo. Machann jounal pa t kite machandiz yo an silans, men te konn rele byen fò pou vann yo, menmjan machann seriz, machann vyolèt avèk machann makrèl fre yo te konn fè. Sal teyat avèk opera te yon gwo pwoblèm kote moun ap kriye epi te sanble avèk yon kazèn…. Menm andeyò, peyizan yo te konn chante pandan y ap travay di. Alèkile yo pa chante ankò. Sa ki te chanje se pa vrèman nivo bwi, moun ap plenyen de li sa gen plizyè syèk la, men se nivo distraksyon ki okipe espas ke silans sa te kapab anvayi a. Genyen yon lòt paradòks ki fè aparisyon, paske, lòske li anvayi—nan pwofondè yon forè bwapen, nan yon dezè vid, nan yon chanm ki vid toudenkou—souvan sa parèt twoublan olyede enteresan. Pwoblèm mete pye; Zorèy moun konsantre enstenktivman sou nenpòt bagay, kèlkeswa yon sifleman dife, yon kri zwazo oubyen kèk fèy k ap mimire, k ap pwoteje l de vid enkoni sa. Moun yo bezwen silans, se vre, men se pa nan nivo sa. |