My social media feed has recently been flooded with a question that simply asks, “to speak or to die?” The complexity of this question is explored in the 2017 film “Call Me By Your Name” directed by Luca Guadagnino, based on the book by André Aciman.
This question seems to be straightforward to answer, a straightforward yes or no question. However, influencer @notamine demonstrates the complexity of the question. He approaches strangers going about their day on the streets of Paris, asking this question with no explanation. People find it difficult to summon a response, and when they finally do, the answer is never the same.
First raised during a conversation between Elio, a central character in the film, portrayed by Timothée Chalamet, and his mother, portrayed by Amira Casar, the inquiry is first examined to confront the character’s struggle between fearing rejection and confessing vulnerable feelings. The question holds a running theme throughout the movie, weighing the dangers of silence and the risks of speaking. The narrative of “what ifs” in the movie forces the characters to mourn what could have been if one had chosen the other option, leading to lingering regret and lasting pain while grieving the possibilities. The central question, turns out, is applicable in our lives.
The deep and personal dilemma raises differing philosophical perspectives. Many find the most relieving approach is to speak. Ever hear of getting a weight off your chest? That is exactly what this is. The sort of confession exchanges long-term regret with short-term pain (although it might seem excruciating). Picture, for example, a boss with little respect for her employees; you could even say “The Devil Wears Prada” level of ruthlessness. Voicing your concerns may allow you to acknowledge your agency and maintain your self-respect. One who chooses this path prioritizes expressing their authentic self rather than reducing themselves to avoid uncomfortable confrontation. The idea of rejection to these individuals is more justifiable than the almost certain regret of their silence. Is rejection better than never knowing what could happen?
While some believe that speaking brings about relief, some find comfort in silence. To remain silent, some could argue, is to protect oneself (or others) from avoidable pain. Silence is a safe space away from harsh rejection and consequences, so keeping to oneself is a way of avoiding immediate pain (though not avoiding the long-term consequences). Both options come with the risk of regret or failure. For example, if you find yourself in a “picture-perfect” relationship, it becomes a difficult decision between shattering that image through addressing what is tainting it or choosing to live through the hollow truth to maintain the comfort.
Comfortable silence comes with its own misery. Everyone has secrets; in this sense, the secrets can be suffocating. By stifling the desires that fill our minds, we are effectively causing our own, slow, torturous “deaths.” This wasting away comes in the form of the inevitable consumption of our thoughts and the creation of situations that will never have the opportunity to play out. Those “what ifs” will haunt us, reminding us of opportunities or different paths that we could have taken if we could only form the right words. What if I had just said something? Would anything have changed? Would it have been worth it? There are an infinite number of what-if questions for an infinite number of possibilities, and choosing silence gives you the answer to none of them.
To speak, however, is not to choose life; to speak is to lose control. When you speak, the ball is no longer in your court; your words are received, and it is the recipient’s turn to make the same decision. Even words like “I am sorry” give another person a chance to decide whether you truly are. It is now their chance to forgive or maintain a grudge based on how they interpret and perceive your words. In desiring to be understood, you are left immensely vulnerable.
The reason this question is so difficult to answer is that pain exists in both words and lack thereof. There is a possibility that both speaking and silence are necessary forms of dying. There is no right answer, just different ways to experience suffering. We are familiar with each form of suffering, after all, so we choose to experience our defeats in whichever way we know better. Either way, the finality of life is inevitable; your medium is simply the way you choose to get from point A to point B. Both speaking and silence have a place in our lives — the outcome is entirely dependent on how and when we choose to use them.