Silence is a resistance

Buse İlkin NATIVE

Silence is sometimes the threshold of peace, sometimes the echo of a profound loneliness. Prof. Dr. Bilge Uzun's book, "The Three Faces of Silence," traces this very echo; it unravels, layer by layer, the story of those whose voices remain unheard, those who refuse to be heard, and those silenced. In his book, Uzun examines silence on three levels: external silence, internal silence, and forced silence. Each corresponds to a different pain, a different form of resistance. Sometimes silence emerges as an escape from the noise of the city, sometimes as a confrontation with one's own mind, and sometimes in the heavy shadow of social pressures.

We talked with Uzun about The Three Faces of Silence.

How did the idea for "Three Faces of Silence" come about? What motivated you to write this book?

When words lose their power, you choose silence. What wasn't spoken begins to flow into you. Then you find yourself in a vast darkness. There, you realize how alone you are. It's an absence amidst multitude. That's when you begin to understand your true self.

I first experienced silence at an international Mindfulness training certification camp. Initially, it was a controlled, temporary silence. Dozens of people were around me, but I was alone. This silence opened so many doors within me that the more I remained silent, the more I began to hear. At that moment, I realized that silence wasn't simply silencing the outside world; it was making space for the inner voice. Over time, I began to observe this experience not only in myself but also in my clients. Some used silence as a protective shell, while others were silenced. I realized that silence wasn't just a void; sometimes it was the form of a cry, sometimes it was resistance itself. Thus, "The Three Faces of Silence" was born.

THIS BOOK IS MORE OF A CONFRONTATION THAN A NARRATIVE

For me, this book wasn't so much a narrative as a confrontation. It was a confrontation with myself, with society, and with the deepest human vulnerability: silence. It's both a mirror of my personal experience and a record of the silences I've witnessed as a therapist. For me, silence is a form of resistance , sometimes a collapse, sometimes a rebirth. What compelled me to write "The Three Faces of Silence" was the desire to make visible the echoes of those who have lost their voices or never found them.

In your book, you discuss silence in three layers: external, internal, and forced silence. What observations did you base this distinction on? How much of this book is based on your own experiences?

Silence develops for various reasons. Some people remain silent because they choose not to speak, some because they are afraid, and some because they are not understood. Over time, this distinction has evolved into three layers in my mind: external, internal, and forced silence. Each carries a different story.

External silence is the silence heard by the ear; it sometimes carries peace, sometimes tension. Inner silence is where the mind is silenced and emotions are buried. In that silence, a person sometimes even feels alienated from themselves. Forced silence, however, is the most painful: the silence of the silenced. Women, children, those socially ignored…

In making this distinction, I was guided not only by my academic and clinical observations, but also by my own life. "The Three Faces of Silence" was written to help me hear my own inner voice, understand my silences, and make visible the silences of others. It explored various societal problems. This book features narratives of those who have lost hope and are tempted to give up on their lives. This book is both an introspection and an outward call: "Let's read our silences together."

Have you ever confronted your own mind while writing about inner silence? If so, how was that process for you?

It happened, and very much so. Writing this book was, in fact, a kind of ritual of introspection. What we call inner silence is often not the silence of the outside world, but rather the amplification of our inner voice. And that voice doesn't always speak gently. As I wrote, memories I thought I'd forgotten surfaced. I encountered questions I was afraid to ask myself. As I wrote some chapters, I realized I was the bearer of silence, not the writing.

In the chapter on enforced silence, you specifically address the oppression experienced by women and children. How does enforced silence manifest itself among women and children in the country?

Forced silence isn't the exception in this region; it's practically a tradition. It all begins with phrases like, "Shut up, it would be rude," "Even if you vomit blood, I drank cranberry sherbet," "You're married, there's no going back, you'll suffer." From a young age, we're all taught to suppress our emotions, hide our pain, and lower our voices. This, in turn, creates individuals who embrace silence as a personality trait.

SOME SILENCES ARE LOUDER THAN SCREAMS

Forced silence isn't just about not being able to speak; it's about not having the courage to speak up, knowing that even if you do, it won't be heard. Women are left alone not when they experience violence, but when they speak up. Children, on the other hand, are left to their silence, told they're "children, they'll forget."

In writing this book, I wanted to make stories of silence visible. Everyone forced into silence has a voice inside them, waiting to be heard. Even if we can't reach them with a microphone, we can at least try to understand their silence. Because some silences are louder than a scream.

What are the things that silence us as a society? And how willing do you think we are to do so?

It's not just external pressures that silence us. Of course, there are silence imposed by structures like the state, society, and family, but the most persistent are the voices we internalize. "Now is not the time," "If you say this, you'll be misunderstood," "Stay silent so the peace won't be disturbed." These are the censorship mechanisms we carry within ourselves.

GETTING USED TO SILENCE IS EASY, BUT TALKING IS RISKY

Our need for social approval, our fear of exclusion, and our anxiety about being labeled are driving us to become increasingly silent. And yes, over time, we become willing to do so. It's easy to get used to silence because it's comfortable. Speaking up carries risks: being alone, being targeted, and engaging in conflict. This is why there's often a gap between what we feel inside and what we say.

But silence isn't just suppression; sometimes it's a form of denial. We remain silent to avoid facing the truth. We remain silent to the injustice we see, the unfairness we hear, the pain we feel. Because speaking up sometimes requires responsibility. Perhaps that's why silence isn't just being silenced; it's choosing to remain silent.

Do you think staying silent in today's digital world is a form of invisibility or a form of resistance?

It depends on what you're keeping quiet about and why. In the digital world, silence sometimes truly means invisibility; algorithms ignore you, interaction drops, and you don't even count as "existing." But sometimes silence is the most powerful stance. In a world where everyone is shouting, rehashing everything they already know, silence can become a careful and conscious choice.

I see silence as a space of mindfulness here. Stepping away from the screen, silencing notifications, and not reacting can sometimes make your presence felt more. Because in the digital noise, we often get lost in the voices of others, not our own.

The book intertwines essays, memoirs, and psychology. What kind of connection did you aim to establish with the reader when choosing this narrative style?

I wanted to speak to the reader not as an "author," but as a "companion." Because this book isn't an academic exposition, but rather a journey that invites us to think and feel together. I wanted to touch the reader's mind through essay language, reach their heart through memories, and open up a space for inner awareness through psychology.

Silence is such a subject that it leaves a mark on everyone's life, yet often goes unnamed. In this book, I wanted to create a space where readers could hear their own silence. That's why I took the narrative beyond academic boundaries. Because sometimes silence is simply felt. And some emotions only become visible through literature.

What was the feedback you received after the book reached readers that impressed you the most?

A reader wrote, “I’ve been carrying my silence for years, but this is the first time someone has given it meaning.” When I first read this sentence, I stared at the screen for a long time, because that’s exactly what this book was written for: to show that silence isn’t an emptiness, but a meaning, a trace, sometimes a scream.

SOMETIMES A BOOK IS NOT READ, IT IS HEARD

The comments that touched me most came from readers who had carried their silences within themselves for years. One said, "This book reconciled me with my silence." Another wrote, "For the first time, I was able to speak from a place of silence." This feedback showed me that sometimes a book isn't just read; it's heard. I believe the greatest gift for a writer is being able to echo another's inner voice. If "The Three Faces of Silence" has done exactly that, I'm thrilled.

Do you plan to continue with similar themes in your future writing journey? Is there a new book on the horizon?

"The Three Faces of Silence" felt like a threshold, not an ending. As I wrote about silence, I realized that there's as much silence as there is repression, postponement, and so much we carry within us but can't put into words. What I want to write about now is the inner movement that comes after silence: confrontation , healing, and transformation.

My new book will once again delve into the inner world of humanity, but this time it will focus on a self that dares to emerge from silence. Vulnerability, shame, self-compassion, and change… Perhaps this time, I'll write about what we finally decide to talk about, as much as what we do talk about.

The new book has already begun. This time, the story begins in the Philippines and continues in Cappadocia. And just like that book, this one will be a journey of "finding yourself while running away from yourself, and coming to terms with yourself."