Matthew B. Crawford
writes in the New York Times that our experience of silence in the commons (or common public spaces) is under siege. He observes that nearly every moment and surface is filled with advertisements, capturing the attention of the captive audience, drowning out silence, cluttering minds, creating visual chaos and confusion. All these ads require our attention, even if only for a moment, and require a certain amount of brain space even if only to process and disregard. The cost of all that visual and auditory chaos is palpable, and now we find ourselves in the unique position of having to pay for silence.

"Settled in at my departure gate with an hour to kill, I shift in my seat and try to avert my gaze from the chattering of CNN, but find that the fields of view that haven’t been claimed for commerce are getting fewer and narrower. Of course, you can seal yourself off by putting on noise-canceling headphones, staring at a smartphone or opening a novel. But what is lost is the public space that is required for sociability, the kind that depends on people not being self-enclosed.
An airport lounge once felt rich with possibilities for spontaneous encounters. Even if we did not converse, our attention was free to alight upon one another and linger, or not. We encountered another person, even if in silence. Such encounters are always ambiguous, and their need for interpretation gives rise to a train of imaginings, often erotic. This is what makes cities exciting.
***
"Silence is now offered as a luxury good. In the business-class lounge at Charles de Gaulle Airport, I heard only the occasional tinkling of a spoon against china. I saw no advertisements on the walls. This silence, more than any other feature, is what makes it feel genuinely luxurious. When you step inside and the automatic doors whoosh shut behind you, the difference is nearly tactile, like slipping out of haircloth into satin. Your brow unfurrows, your neck muscles relax; after 20 minutes you no longer feel exhausted.
Outside, in the peon section, is the usual airport cacophony. Because we have allowed our attention to be monetized, if you want yours back you’re going to have to pay for it.
As the attentional commons is appropriated, one solution, for those who have the means, is to leave it behind for private clubs like the business-class lounge. Considering that it is those in the business lounge who make the decisions that determine the character of the peon section, we may start to see these things in a political light."
Lately, I find myself pushing back against the noise of the modern world. Almost every store and coffee shop has pop music piped in (some at more annoying volumes than others), every cab and airport has a constant chatter of television screens. Even road signs are now more like televisions than billboards, with blinking lights, digital ads that change every few seconds, and are larger and brighter than anything on the road in front of you. I begin to think that we live in 1984. Orwell and Bradbury seem scarily prescient.
When I lived in Moscow, I used to wear headphones on the buses and trolleys a lot, but these past few years, I almost never wear headphones. I'm trying to be intentional about when I put the stereo on at home, so that it doesn't become just one more mindless soundtrack to our lives, but is rather an enhancement to the environment. The children make a lot of noise, just being children, that I find my tolerance for optional noise to be much lower than it was previously.

I'm also reevaluating how much news I consume. I used to be an eager consumer of news, and prided myself on keeping current with events both domestic and international. I still read
The Week, but I'm less interested than I once was and, where I used to read every single story, cover to cover, now I skip around a lot. Being so immersed in the news, particularly in our Internet Outrage era, brings a lot of mental noise, I find. I still think it is important to be at least a bit informed about what is going on in the world, but so much of what passes for news these days is half-baked, half-informed reporting, scare-mongering, and political posturing. I find it all so wearing.

I'm not sure exactly how to strike a balance. I don't read a daily newspaper, but I do read The Week most weeks, and skim The Economist occasionally, plus a few articles in a few philosophical magazines. I try not to read listsicles any more. My feedly is mostly full of sewing and vintage bloggers, which helps, but I find I have to be choosy about what I read from the few non-sewing/vintage bloggers. I've mostly been off Facebook for the Fast, which has been lovely for the noise in my head and has made me reconsider how I use Facebook going forward. I've been checking in with Presv. Katie Baker this past week, obviously, and with a few private groups every couple of days, but that has been it. I may stop using the newsfeed all together as I think the schizophrenic nature of it is hard for my mind to handle in a peaceful way.

Unless we are leaving the world entirely for the monastic life, I think we must remain at least somewhat engaged with the world and with the larger culture, but I also think we must be careful and intentional about our level of engagement. The world is run by the ad-makers, and if we are to have peace, spiritual dialogue, and growth, we must reclaim silence in the commons and in our minds.
(all images via Google Images)