The charged nothing
Silence as power in destructive relationships

 

 

 

 

 

 

Introduction

Silence at its core, like hope, is an ambiguous phenomenon. In healthy relationships, silence can create space, breath — a ground for closeness that doesn't need to be captured in words. Silence can rest on trust: the knowing that nothing is required in order to remain connected.

 

In destructive relationships, however, silence carries a different weight. There, silence is not a neutral absence, but a charged nothing. It becomes an instrument of power, an invisible chain that feeds longing, insecurity and dependence.

 

In this essay, I want to explore how silence functions as a dynamic in destructive relationships. I will combine psychological insights on trauma bonding and attachment patterns with a philosophical perspective on silence and truth. What happens when silence is no longer a form of connection, but a strategy of denial and control? And how might recognizing this charged silence be the first step toward liberation and healing?

 

 

 

The psychological charge of silence

The human brain is not well equipped to handle emptiness in communication. Where words are absent, the mind fills in the gaps. Silence raises questions: Did I do something wrong? Why is there no response? Do I still matter? These questions are not merely cognitive; they are felt in the body — tension in the chest, a lump in the throat or restlessness that drives one to compulsively check a phone or inbox.

 

In relationships marked by insecurity, silence takes on a stimulating effect. It becomes a signal that is never neutral. Sometimes there is a sudden heart emoji, a gesture of love; other times, nothing. It is precisely this unpredictability that strengthens the bond. Psychologically, we call this intermittent reinforcement: the principle that behavior is most strongly conditioned when rewards are irregular and unpredictable.

 

Silence thus becomes an addictive stimulus. Much like with slot machines or social media: you never know if something will appear today, but the small chance of a sign keeps you hooked. Compulsively checking your phone, even during long periods without contact, is one symptom of this. Your system has been conditioned by the alternation of something and nothing, and silence itself becomes a carrier of tension.

 

 

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Silence as gaslighting in reverse

We usually know gaslighting as the distortion of reality through words: “That never happened,” “I did not say that,” “You’re exaggerating.” But gaslighting can also take place precisely by withholding words. Silence can function as a subtle form of gaslighting — through the absence of recognition or response, your reality and even your existence are denied.

 

When you hear nothing for days while your heart is on fire, something begins to gnaw at you. You start asking yourself: Am I overreacting? Is my pain real? Does it truly mean something that the other remains silent? The silence fuels doubt, not because it says something, but because it says nothing. And it is exactly this nothing that strips your feelings of legitimacy.

 

Silence can therefore be just as destructive as words. It erases, it denies, it sweeps under the rug. Words still allow the possibility of dialogue, of reply; silence leaves you behind in a vacuum. That vacuum is filled with your own questions, fears and self-blame. In that emptiness, you are slowly hollowed out from within.

 

 

 

The existential dimension of silence

Philosophers have often reflected on silence. For Martin Buber, silence can be the ground of the encounter between I and Thou — a presence that needs no language. In mystical traditions, silence is the gateway to the divine, to that which transcends words. We also know this in intimate relationships: being able to share silence together, without anything needing to be said, can be the deepest form of closeness.

 

But the very same silence can, in a destructive context, tip over into its opposite. Instead of creating space, it closes space off. Silence becomes a wall, an abyss and a weapon. The wordless non-response shifts from a sign of closeness into proof of rejection.

 

Here it becomes clear that silence is never empty. It always carries a charge, depending on the ground in which it is heard. In a ground of trust, silence is sustaining. In a ground of insecurity, silence is devastating. Philosophically, this shows the ambiguity of silence: it can embody both the most intimate closeness and the coldest rejection.

 

 

 

The charged nothing as a chain

When silence is used systematically, it turns into an invisible chain. No shout needs to be uttered, no reproach spoken — and yet power is maintained. The nothing speaks louder than words: you wait for me, I don’t have to do anything.

 

This chain does not work through content, but through expectation. You keep waiting, hoping and filling in the blanks. It is precisely this expectation that binds. Silence itself becomes an addictive stimulus, intensifying the sense of absence and holding you captive in a cycle of uncertainty.

 

Psychologically, this is a core mechanism of trauma bonding. Where violence and love alternate, the bond grows stronger rather than weaker. Silence functions as the absence that fuels longing. You keep searching for a sign and every tiny signal that does appear — a short text, a heart emoji — therefore feels immense. In this way, you remain imprisoned not by what is there, but by what is repeatedly not there.

 

 

 

The repetition of old wounds

For those who have been confronted with destructive silence from an early age, silence is never mere absence. The body remembers the moments when the other fell silent, looked away and wanted nothing more to do with you. As a child, silence becomes not rest, but punishment. Not a ground, but an abyss.

 

Trauma psychology teaches us that such early experiences embed themselves in the nervous system. The silence of today is never only the here-and-now, but also a repetition of the past. The nerves react as if the past were happening all over again: heartbeat racing, stomach clenched, the mind flooded with fear and uncertainty. This is what we call trauma re-experiencing: the present is colored by old wounds that could not yet be closed.

 

When later, in an adult relationship, silence is once again used as an instrument of power, it does not only open the wound of the relationship itself but also the childhood wound. The pain is doubled: today’s silence is an echo of yesterday’s silence. It is as if the same chain, once placed by a parent, is being tightened again by a partner.

 

Philosophically, this touches on what Kierkegaard called repetition: the return of an experience that cannot be easily closed off. We also hear resonances with Levinas: the face of the Other that turns away or remains silent can be experienced as an existential rejection of my being. Silence is then not empty, but a refusal that strikes at my existence.

 

In this sense, destructive silence is a knife: it cuts not only into the present but also reopens old scars. What once seemed forgotten becomes painfully alive again. And precisely because silence gives no words, it withholds the possibility of dialogue or repair. It leaves the knife in the wound without bandage and without healing.

 

 

 

Breaking the power of silence

How can this dynamic be broken? The first step is to recognize that silence has an active function. It is not a neutral nothing, but a charged nothing. Once you see that silence is being used as an instrument, it loses part of its power.

 

Recovery requires reclaiming meaning from silence. Where silence denies your reality, you must affirm it. This can be done by repeating facts, by rereading your own diaries, letters, emails, or WhatsApp history — by giving words to what was and is being denied. Where the other remained silent, you must speak — even if only to yourself.

 

Philosophically, this means that truth is not a fixed possession but a process. Truth must continually be reclaimed, especially against the silence that seeks to erase everything. Each time you say: This happened, this hurt, this is the factual truth, you break another link in the chain.

 

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Conclusion

Silence in destructive relationships is not an empty space but a powerful dynamic. It speaks without words, yet says everything. It fuels longing, doubt and dependency. It is gaslighting in reverse: not a lie that is spoken, but a lie that is withheld.

 

Not all silence is the same. There is the silence that is used as a weapon — the silence of punishment, of exercising power, of denial. That silence is destructive because it severs connection and reopens old wounds. It's the silence that becomes a chain, holding the other captive in loss, insecurity and dependency.

 

But there is also another silence. The silence that arises when you decide no longer to play along in the destructive game. The silence that does not stem from fear but from choice. Withholding a response can then be an act of self-protection, a boundary that doesn't need words to be explained.

 

This liberating silence is not empty but filled with strength. It's not the chain, but the key that unlocks it. In this silence, the power of the other is broken, because the dialogue of manipulation and denial is no longer being fed.

 

Learning to distinguish between these two silences is essential. One is the knife that opens wounds; the other is the bandage that can finally help them heal. Where destructive silence erases truth, liberating silence creates the space to reconnect truth, love and freedom.