Notes on:
Zembylas, M and Michaelides, P. (2004) 'The sound
of silence in pedagogy'. Educational
Theory, 54 (2): 193 -210.
Dave Harris
How should we interpret silence in the
classroom? Is it a political stand, or
shyness? Should we not respect silence as a
respect for self and other? The ability to
silence people is still seen as a necessary
disciplinary act, but silence also allows time for
reflection.
Lots of writers and philosophers have seen silence
as a positive phenomenon, not just the absence of
speech. It could be something that
complements speech or even constitutes
discourse. There can be a force akin to
'spirit and word' (194). It carries its own
meaning and can say something. However, it
is complex and not easily defined. Is it
just the suspension of language, or something that
resists naming, for example? Perhaps the
best way is to examine how it actually works in
specific contexts, opening the issue of a possible
pedagogic function. [Some examples of
philosophical or mystical discussion ensue,
including Wittgenstein on the imperative of
remaining silent if speech fails, and on silences
expressing things that cannot be put into words].
It is rare to permit silence among students or
ourselves, and silence is normally seen as a
denial, the result of dependency or
immaturity. This obviously helps to
marginalize some students who are in effect
silenced. However the project of developing
'self criticality' is a valuable one, and it
is often 'manifest within silence as much as
within language' (195), especially if we want to
embrace the unspeakable and the
inexpressible. This is not to argue for
mysticism, although it has possibly been excluded
too readily in the West, with its 'fully
confessional culture' [not Foucault but
Mckendrick], and there are cultural differences in
terms of its value—apparently, silence is welcomed
'in some Eastern cultures'(196), as providing
opportunity to reflect. This sets up the
need to analyze silence [philosophically it
seems].
There are both Western and Buddhist traditions
that value silence, arguing that it can be
'empowering and expressive', is not diametrically
opposed to talk, and can be the source for more
enriched teaching and learning. Levinas
talks about how silence can lead to a philosophy
of otherness, and it can also bring 'openness to
the educational experience', towards both self and
other.
In the west, there is a tradition of 'the via
negativa', pointing to what happens when
language breaks down [we achieve the apophatic—a
knowledge of what is not, an awareness of
silence that lies around the perimeter of
language]. Blanchot has pointed out that
what we think of as inexpressible is always
defined in relation to a particular system of
expression, but the via negativa offers a
road towards the understanding of God in any
experience. One approach involved trying to
find out what God is not—not essence, not science,
not truth and so on. God becomes unknowable,
and the only appropriate stance is 'mystical
ignorance'(197). God is itself silence, and
to speak is reductive—'we are merely speaking of
silence'. Mystical silence is a 'therapeutic
strategy for approaching God'. Worshippers
should experience God's presence and be silent,
and this experience is beyond words [although this
did not stop some theologians from becoming
preachers as a sort of inevitable alternative].
The Buddhist tradition also emphasizes the limits
of language, 'by completely penetrating the
nonduality between speech and silence'. This
leads to something unutterable. The Buddha
himself remained silent in metaphysical debates in
order to oppose dualistic thinking. It
follows from this that for Buddhists 'silence then
has a therapeutic function—it dissolves all
contingencies (that is, anxieties, questions,
answers, and so on).' (199). This points to
something beyond suffering action or speech.
In order to achieve enlightenment, we have to
pursue 'the praxis of silence', to grasp the
mysteries of the world beyond contingency and
[normal understanding]. While western
mysticism urges us to 'grapple with the paradox of
expressing the inexpressible', Buddhism 'is more
expressive of a way of being; it is an ontological
silence—the silence of being or life itself'.
However both suggest that silence is clearly
related to speech and is as elusive when it comes
to capturing it with words. We should be
silent 'in order to listen' and recognize this
elusiveness (200). [But wouldn't our silence
also be elusive as communicating our intentions?]
This makes us address what we do not articulate or
want to speak about, and how normal language is an
attempt 'to cement reality through forming our
consciousness and to verbalize logically' [for
which, praise be!] . Pedagogues should be
more aware of silence and non verbal
communication, especially if they're interested in
emotional communications. Non verbal cues
often accompany silence. Silences can be
used to provide time for reflection as well as to
discipline a noisy class. Apparently,
research has shown the benefits of developing
'"wait - time"' (201). Silent observation
might also be useful. Pedagogue should be
aware of the political uses of silence as in
Freire. [Why not stay silent instead of writing
this?]
Dichotomous thinking often allows students only to
speak or be silent, and to ignore the continuum
between the two. This 'monolithic view'
dominates contemporary educational settings and
this further helps marginalize 'such issues as
emotions, selfhood, and otherness'[so
autoethnography is a disciplinary device?], and
contribute to not listening to the other.
Regulating silence and speech clearly shows the
effects of 'social norms'. Silence can
therefore 'easily regress into a regime of
subjectification' (202), an unrecognized
disciplinary mechanism. A suitable response
would be to 'highlight the limits of speech', and
we should not try to 'verbalize the
unspeakable'. Instead we should try to
become more mindful [sic! Very fashionable!] and
self critical.
Self-criticality involves being able to 'question
and doubt our own presuppositions about silence
and speech', as a part of the praxis of
silence. We move outside conventional
thinking and try to establish what makes it
meaningful. Buddhist and western mystic
arguments could be seen as helpful. Learning
to listen to silence helps to open spaces with the
meaning of emotions can be rethought. It can
develop as 'a way of being in relation to others'
(203). Normal views of subjectivity can be
resisted as a kind of politics. First we
have to notice different kinds of silence in
classrooms, and then try to nurture or enrich
them. Some silence can lead to explorations
of the self and personal growth. It can help
us make sense of thoughts and actions. It
can indicate 'unspoken understanding'. Or it
can represent the fear of self exposure.
'Bodily configurations and gestures' can accompany
these different kinds of silence.
How can anyone tell which kind of silence a
particular case represents? Teachers already
know that some silences indicate a problem,
although it is not always easy to know what the
problem is. We should focus on how silence
works, by observing what happens in student
performances [not too difficult after all then?
Trust teachers?]. In any event, we need to
overcome 'the one sidedness and ideological
biases' (204) of current views about science in
classrooms. Complexity should be stressed,
and there are no easy solutions. We might
develop our own self-criticality, and draw on
those traditions that sees silence as 'a site of
possibility rather than as a problem'. Of
course there are some silences that are harmful,
but openness to silence 'may lead to a deeper
respect for the Other'. [So if we ignore all
the nasty possibilities and just really really
hope for the best…] 'In other words, an
educational philosophy of silence is a philosophy
of otherness'. [Or a philosophy of ignoring
kids with problems, and so on]. Valuing the
inexpressible is the same as valuing otherness.
Buddhist ontological silence can be 'extremely
useful pedagogically', since it challenges
conventional questions and points to the reductive
character. The Buddha's silence was a way of
showing this 'vacuity of any response to ultimate
questions' (205). This is an intellectual
and pedagogically valuable response, to be
contrasted with the current obsession with noise
and talk. Educators should create safe
places for students to do silence in. We
should encourage them to orient to the
inexpressible/otherness as a starting point for
learning, as 'a "philosophy of unknowing"'.
Levinas says that the face to face situation is an
important starting point for the analysis of
otherness, with the other's face and voice
resisting easy categorization [sounds like Guattari on
faciality]. We can [sometimes] encounter
naked expression as such, pure otherness, which is
prior to conventional expression—and faces are
involving and engaging. We should resist the
conventional concerns of western philosophy which
is to understand the other in conventional
knowledge, allowing sameness to dominate if.
Instead, we should preserve the Other as 'an
unknowable mystery'(206). [Which has always
struck me as being a prelude to demonizing
them]. If we maintain silence, we better
perceive 'the Others' transcendence'. There
are no dominating forms of communication. We
must take responsibility for the conduct of our
own communication, including cultivating humility,
which 'requires a radical generosity and
compassion' [we need to be secure and
disinterested bourgeois philosophers then peddling
the high aesthetic?] This must be a
continuous process of self-criticality, constantly
questioning 'the very ground of such an encounter'
(207).
Lyotard similarly shows that 'language imposes
limits on reality'[in The Differend: a
differend 'arises when opposing parties express
themselves in the terms appropriate to different
regimes']. Philosophers and educators should
invent new languages to cover these ruptures [dead
easy] , and silence 'might be an appropriate
response to this (as in the case of the Holocaust,
for example, which figures a seemingly "absolute"
silence)'. In classrooms, talk can colonize
silence, but meaning can still escape. There
are systems of silences where a silence becomes
'as effective a tool of signification as
utterance'. As a result, it 'always carries
with it the potential for resistance and
critique'. SIlence can subvert the dominant
discourse. Dominant discourses can reduce
meanings to narratives, as with 'the suffering at
Auschwitz'. A philosophy of silence involves
'innovation and the call to respect that certain
experiences (of the Other) can be sensed, but
cannot be expressed' [which leaves room for the
sort of sentimentality and passive empathy that is
criticized elsewhere]. Certainly the
motivated silence of Auschwitz survivors remind us
that the events were unspeakable, outside of 'the
communicational ideology of political
modernity'. However, thinking of 'heard
silences' reminds us of traces of otherness and
the need to respect them.
There is a parallel here with the argument for
'"teaching with ignorance"'[not Rancière, but
Sharon Todd in a conference paper, 2002].
This also involves not seeing acquiring knowledge
is the ultimate goal. Valuing silence means
admitting our ignorance about the Other, while
fulfilling our ethical responsibilities to
them. It leads to compassion [or
sentimentality etc.]. This is clearly
contrary to conventional aims for education, but
it is a matter of 'responsibility to be open to
the Other' (208). We need an education that
'values and cherishes wonder' [sounds like OFSTED
on the aims of religious education].
We must overcome our current fear of
silence. We must not understand the
instrumentally, in terms of either discipline or
reflection. We should consider new
transformative possibilities—encouraging self
criticality; recovering 'a sense of the Other';
restoring 'a lost sense of humility and wonder'
[getting really repetitive here]. We have to
be ready to listen, as the mystics summarized
above have argued. We have to judge the
appropriate moments to use either silence or
words, and sometimes it is wiser not to say
anything, 'when students are not ready to
listen'[all of them? Most?
None?]. We should not automatically correct
silences, since this assumes pathology.
Sometimes silence is valued differently in
different cultures. It can be a form of
participation if it is 'silent active listening'
(209). Nor does pushing students into speech
always liberate them.
All this presents 'a tremendous challenge for
educators and students', in understanding the
complexity and in constructing suitable
spaces. First we should encourage teachers
and students to appreciate the complexity, and
recognize especially the claims of the mystics
about the need to grasp the inexpressible.
This will challenge the conventions [again!] and
help develop a critique. 'The most
passionate and exhilarating moments of learning
have a built in sense of mystery, of something
that is inexpressible' (210) [so they assert,
tautologically], so silence can mean students are
becoming 'creators of meaning'. However,
'this approach may ultimately be as elusive as any
other'. Nevertheless we need to keep open
possibilities to both question silences and
respond in silence. This is risky, but
worthwhile.
The sort of
philosophy we have been reviewing is therefore
particularly relevant, and might help us rethink
'the whole nature of education', including
pedagogy.
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