By Michelle Emrani
I’ve had this song, The Boy With The Arab Strap by Belle & Sebastian in my head for weeks. (Song lyrics have a certain way of sticking in my head in ways in which, I fear, more pertinent information never will.) The song describes the feelings of a person who has just been freed from a form of literal or spiritual prison and the renewed wonder of a world for one that has been shut away for so long. Wednesday’s class discussion of silence as a form of spiritual violence, gave me a new perspective on a song that is so familiar, a perspective that added meaning to a song I already felt to be profoundly meaningful and beautiful.
My interpretation of one lyric in particular, “Everyone suffers, in silence, a burden,” completely changed as a result of our class discussion of silence as a form of spiritual abuse. Prior to our class discussion, I had interpreted the line as referring to the harms we have suffered, to the baggage that we carry, as a result of our life experiences. While we may not acknowledge it to others, or even to ourselves, something in our lives, past or present, may be burdening our thoughts, causing us spiritual pain, or holding us back.
In many ways, this filing away of burdens and spiritual harms may act as a survival mechanism; allowing us to carry on by steeling ourselves, attempting to regain our strength in the face of so much pain and disappointment. Silence is a form of this struggle to move on, to break free through denial, and suppression. In certain ways, being silent about these spiritual harms allows us to protect ourselves, especially in a society that often blames victims, or denies spiritual offenses. While it may not be the most cathartic means of coping, silence does offer its own form of respite. In silence, we are free to suffer in our own way, without burdening our loved ones or defending our feelings to others. But as we saw in “The Pawnbroker,” silence inflicts its own burden, one that may cause suffering not only to ourselves, but to those around us.
Perhaps it was this burden, which Stuart Murdoch, the songwriter, was referring to when he wrote “Everyone suffers, in silence, a burden.” Our class discussion of silence and withdrawal as a spiritual harm, as a form of passive aggressive violence, opened my eyes to this different interpretation. While the nature of song lyrics does not ordinarily lend itself to grammatical scrutiny, I feel that the grammar in this lyric is significant. Silence is the subject of the line, the actor that causes everyone to suffer a burden. Silence and isolation are the harms that we inflict on others by ignoring them, rendering them insignificant, denying their right to even the slightest acknowledgement. As Thane said, women are much better at this form of violence, a form that the legal system will not recognize or punish. While I understand Thane’s suggestion that this form of violence can be used actively and maliciously to hurt others, my personal experience with silence has been different.
I have used silence and withdrawal as defensive measures, protection from spiritual and physical violence inflicted by others. While I recognized the harm I was inflicting by being silent, by looking through someone as though they were a ghost, I felt that this was my only form of defense, the only way I could survive what had happened. I did not care that I was harming the other person, because in my passive aggressive way, I felt that I was justified in doing so. What I failed to realize was the harm this silence was inflicting on own spirit; how my silence and denial were catalysts driving me toward self-destruction. Only once I was able to acknowledge the horrific truth, to speak about it with people I trust, was I able to start the long journey toward recovery, or at least acceptance.
If silence can be held as a form of spiritual harm, it is one that acts as a double edged sword, with consequences that may often be much more harmful to the person thrusting it than to the person receiving the blow. While I fully identify with the instinct to remain silent in the face of great tragedy, I believe that inflicting the burden of silence on oneself can cause even greater harm. Perhaps, that is why Murdoch writes, in another line of the song, “Color my life with the chaos of trouble, ’cause anything’s better than posh isolation.”
