SILENCE once arrived without effort. It was there on long bus rides with nothing but the scenery to notice, in evenings broken only by the
eight o’clock news and around family tables where conversation unfolded without interruption.
Today, silence is almost extinct. Phones buzz before sunrise, messages arrive past midnight and we carry an endless stream of updates, reminders and opinions in our pockets. The question is no longer whether we have enough time but whether we have any space left in our minds.
One of the main psychological patterns contributing to this overload is known as “continuous partial attention”.
Unlike multitasking, which is switching between tasks, continuous partial attention is the habit of constantly scanning for the next alert or message. It keeps the brain in a state of low-level vigilance – always “on” but never fully focused. Over time, these fragmented thoughts erode memory and concentration. What feels like responsiveness is, in reality, a state of constant distraction.
Another condition is “information fatigue syndrome” – the stress and confusion caused by processing too much data.
Anyone who belongs to dozens of WhatsApp groups – family, office, school and neighbourhood – knows this sensation. Instead of clarity, the result is paralysis, exhaustion and sometimes withdrawal.
Far from keeping us informed, this flood of input overwhelms our ability to think clearly.
Third is “nomophobia”, the fear of being without a phone or internet connection. It is not yet formally recognised as a disorder but it is increasingly common. Checking the phone obsessively, anxiety when the battery runs low or discomfort in silence are all symptoms.
The unease many feel when separated from their devices is not just boredom but a form of anxiety. These conditions feed one another.
Continuous partial attention keeps the mind restless while information fatigue drains mental energy and nomophobia prevents us from breaking the cycle.
The consequences extend beyond stress. Sleep is disrupted, cognitive performance declines and emotions become harder to regulate. Neuroscience shows that when the brain is constantly stimulated, it struggles to enter the restorative states needed for memory consolidation and creativity. The very tools meant to connect us are eroding the clarity we need to live well.
The good news is that silence, though endangered, can be reclaimed. Silence is not emptiness; it is nourishment. Just as soil regains fertility when left to rest, the mind recovers clarity when given a pause. During quiet moments, the brain’s default mode activates, allowing for deeper processing, emotional balance and creative insight. Far from being wasted time, silence is when the mind does its most important work.
Reclaiming silence does not require drastic retreats; it begins with simple, deliberate choices. A meal without phones can restore attention to the people in front of us. At first the absence of buzzing feels strange but quickly conversations deepen and humour surfaces more naturally.
Another practice is to set “windows” for checking group chats instead of reacting instantly to every alert. This reduces false urgency and retrains the nervous system to rest.
Even commutes can become pauses. One ride without earphones or scrolling becomes a chance to notice the city and let thoughts settle. And before bed, five minutes of stillness with no input can reset the day and prepare the mind for genuine rest.
Silence matters beyond personal well-being. A society addicted to noise becomes reactive and shallow in its decisions. In times of rapid change and rising mental health pressures, the ability to pause and think clearly is not a luxury but a necessity. Yet, many of us are conditioned to equate fast replies with care or competence.
Technology magnifies this until constant availability becomes a form of servitude. Allowing ourselves and others to pause, to reply later and to not always be reachable is a cultural shift. It reframes rest as a precondition for clarity and compassion.
In this sense, choosing silence is an act of defiance. In a world that profits from distraction, switching off is a way of reclaiming ownership of attention. It is a reminder that our worth is not measured by the speed of our replies or the number of notifications we can absorb; each pause – at the table, in the commute, before sleep – trains the mind to return to itself.
Being less reactive, more present and fully human – when practiced collectively – can create ripples that extend through families, workplaces and communities.
Dr Praveena Rajendra is a certified mental health and awareness practitioner specialising in narcissistic abuse recovery.
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