There are many kinds of silences, but I'm thinking about two of them now. One is the silence of humility, knowing the harm of speaking too rashly. In the case of ongoing violence between traumatized groups, this is indeed an ethical silence, a humanitarian pause, even. But what if violence can be stopped by a voice lifted? The second is …
There are many kinds of silences, but I'm thinking about two of them now. One is the silence of humility, knowing the harm of speaking too rashly. In the case of ongoing violence between traumatized groups, this is indeed an ethical silence, a humanitarian pause, even. But what if violence can be stopped by a voice lifted? The second is self-silencing, when one decides that to "say nothing" will protect them from harm. This self-silencing, of course, happens in the face of real (or imagined) threat. I have too often sought refuge in that silence--which is, sometimes, also, a kind of privilege. That to speak is to render oneself vulnerable, to be seen as standing or siding. To, in the expression, "put one's head above the parapet," which is to say, to know that one will face the slings and arrows.
Yes - the privilege of silence, the privilege of not-knowing. Thank you for voicing this. Yes, there are many unknowns, yes, certainty is often a trap, but there is something to be said for speaking up and speaking out, to risk making oneself heard when others risk so much more.
Thank you for this self aware distinction between self-silencing and the silence of humility. I especially appreciate the affirmation that not offering confident opinions on the awful war in Israel and Gaza can be a genuine humanitarian gesture. So many of my friends seem to think it is their role to declaim loudly on a topic about which they are as ignorant as I am.
Such essential questions, Philip. Your comments remind me of Audrey Lorde's essay "The Transformation of Silence into Language an Action." So much to clarify, to discern... intention, and impact... all of it. Thank you for sharing.
Also! Your poem - that brilliant beautiful poem “Remorse for Temperate Speech,” - was so important for me to read, especially at this time. Noticing the language people were using, and my own, it spoke right to me. Thank you for that gift 🙏🏾.
There are many kinds of silences, but I'm thinking about two of them now. One is the silence of humility, knowing the harm of speaking too rashly. In the case of ongoing violence between traumatized groups, this is indeed an ethical silence, a humanitarian pause, even. But what if violence can be stopped by a voice lifted? The second is self-silencing, when one decides that to "say nothing" will protect them from harm. This self-silencing, of course, happens in the face of real (or imagined) threat. I have too often sought refuge in that silence--which is, sometimes, also, a kind of privilege. That to speak is to render oneself vulnerable, to be seen as standing or siding. To, in the expression, "put one's head above the parapet," which is to say, to know that one will face the slings and arrows.
"know the harm of speaking too rashly...an ethical silence." Thank you for this.
Yes - the privilege of silence, the privilege of not-knowing. Thank you for voicing this. Yes, there are many unknowns, yes, certainty is often a trap, but there is something to be said for speaking up and speaking out, to risk making oneself heard when others risk so much more.
Thank you for this self aware distinction between self-silencing and the silence of humility. I especially appreciate the affirmation that not offering confident opinions on the awful war in Israel and Gaza can be a genuine humanitarian gesture. So many of my friends seem to think it is their role to declaim loudly on a topic about which they are as ignorant as I am.
Thanks for this Philip - yes to these two kinds of silences. And the wisdom to know them. And the courage to act.
Such essential questions, Philip. Your comments remind me of Audrey Lorde's essay "The Transformation of Silence into Language an Action." So much to clarify, to discern... intention, and impact... all of it. Thank you for sharing.
Also! Your poem - that brilliant beautiful poem “Remorse for Temperate Speech,” - was so important for me to read, especially at this time. Noticing the language people were using, and my own, it spoke right to me. Thank you for that gift 🙏🏾.
"to put one's head above the parapet", I'd not heard that before but I do like it, thank you!