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Silence

When was the last time you experienced silence? Have a good old think. No, not then. Think a bit more. No, that doesn’t really count either. I mean proper silence… The sort of silence that actually makes you stop in your tracks because it has crept up on you, in a manoeuvre of aural stealth, and then ‘bang!’… or rather,  ‘                     !’… it strikes you between the ears. And you stop. And you listen intently to the chance to hear – well – nothing. 

We are all aware that there has been some form of national discourse recently regarding the proven negative impact, in cognitive terms, of too much exposure to screens or, more specifically, to mobile phones, with all their in-built psychological trickery to addictively stimulate our minds. Young minds are, of course, particularly pliable in the neurological sense. And when we think of this capacity that such technology has for a form of sensory over-stimulation, we typically think of the fast-moving visuals presented, be that phones, the billboards of Tokyo or the slot machines on Brighton Pier. But since the days of muzak and beforehand, it is as much an aural overload that can affect our capacity to concentrate, invading our minds’ ability to actually – well – think.  

Our Year 8s undertaking Winchester Election, Eton King’s Scholarship, and Winchester Entrance all have a reason to celebrate this week. They have just completed their exams; the culmination of a great deal of hard work. And they have acquitted themselves brilliantly in terms of the manner in which they’ve gone about the series of intensely challenging papers. I offer them enormous congratulations simply for applying themselves so well to the process and to the mutual support and teamwork which allowed them to give of their best, regardless of outcome. All of us that have children, however, would do very well to remember that the best academic outcomes they are capable of come about not just from the time and effort they put into learning and revision. It is their ability to concentrate, to focus, to engage in prolonged and unimpeded thinking which allows this time and effort to be impactful; something this week’s examinees will have realised in full. 

And this is what brings us back to silence. Without some strong familiarity with this atavistic friend, we all of us are the poorer in our ability to think well and to think creatively.  

Erling Kagge is a Norwegian explorer who once spent 50 days walking solo across Antarctica, with a broken radio. Spurred by this experience, he has written a short book on silence. One of the most striking points he makes is on the importance of silence in music; those rests in the midst of sound; those pauses which carry an energy of their own, borne of the anticipation of what’s coming. Think the opening theme of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Kagge’s proposal is that ‘[Beethoven] understood that when we are exposed to silence, our minds and thoughts expand outwards.’ And I wholeheartedly agree. We don’t have to imagine how this manifested itself for Beethoven himself when he became deaf and that silence therefore became everlasting; we can just look at some of his groundbreaking later works. 

There is significant value in removing the constant flow of stimulation that too readily crowds our children’s minds: whether that’s enforcing the absence of a phone and allowing for ‘boredom’ or enforcing silent reading. Despite being a school overflowing with music and sport, we understand the importance of silence. The majority of boys get it several times a week in Sit Down, and boarders get it 15 minutes before bed each evening. Stilling the mind should not be a luxury few of us can afford. May we seek it out – carve it out if we must – and trust that our children will feel the benefit of it in the end, as they manage their way through exams and on into any time life requires them to focus.  

And to make the point, this article will now finish with a playing of John Cage’s composition 4’ 33”… 

Tim Butcher
Headmaster

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