George Prochnik

Lightning Storm Over Boston

The World Health Organization’s working group on environmental noise, headed by Dr. Rokho Kim, has now made available its new night noise guidelines for Europe (pdf). This is an extraordinarily comprehensive and ambitious document that merits attention from anyone interested in the impact of noise on a host of physiological systems, and the kinds of measures that must be adopted to begin reducing its negative effects. Because these are night guidelines, the focus here is on the relationship between noise and sleep.

I’ve commented before on the fact that one of the most disturbing findings in recent studies aggregated by the WHO is that we do not have to be actually woken in order to be damaged by the noise we hear in our sleep. In the words of the guideline’s authors, ”Noise disturbs sleep by a number of direct and indirect pathways. Even at very low levels physilogical reactions (increase in heart rate, body movements and arousals) can be reliably measured.” The auditory system remains fully functional all the time that we’re unconscious.

The WHO working group summarizes its findings in the following conclusions:

• Sleep is a biological necessity and disturbed sleep is associated with a number of adverse impacts on health.

• There is sufficient evidence for biological effects of noise during sleep: increase in heart rate, arousals, sleep stage changes and awakening.

• There is sufficient evidence that night noise exposure causes self-reported sleep disturbance, increase in medicine use, increase in body movements and (environmental) insomnia.

• While noise-induced sleep disturbance is viewed as a health problem in itself (environmental insomnia), it also leads to further consequences for health and wellbeing.

• There is limited evidence that disturbed sleep causes fatigue, accidents and reduced performance.

• There is limited evidence that noise at night causes hormone level changes and clinical conditions such as cardiovascular illness, depression and other mental illness. It should be stressed that a plausible biological model is available with sufficient evidence for the elements of the causal chain.

One of the admirable aspects of this report is that the conclusions are drawn in a rigorous, conservative manner. But even with its scruples (driven in part by over-estimations on noise-related issues by some past research), the WHO report makes clear that the potential noise-related burden of disease on disparate populations is immense. The lighter sleep patterns of children and the elderly make them especially susceptible to many of the deleterious effects outlined in the document. To be sure, there are still many outstanding questions about factors such as heart attack risk in relation to both road and air traffic, and an important study on this point is now in progress; but the negative and potentially catastrophic effects of our elevated noise volumes are clear.

So what can be done? Actually, a great deal. Noise-sensitive rooms can be positioned on the quiet side of a dwelling. More effective sound insulation for bedroom windows, and better zoning could help. But all these things promise only a degree of help and when it comes to air traffic, in particular, we may never get very far unless we’re willing to cut down on the number of flights we take. At a moment when airports are only becoming more and more busy, this prospect seems unlikely.

A dispiriting report appeared in the Gothamist last week about the rise in air traffic volume over one Brooklyn neighborhood (Park Slope). Through the Freedom of Information Act, anti-noise activists have discovered that low volume air traffic over the Slope has risen 52% in just the past four years. This translates into virtually constant air traffic, and as one resident of the neighborhood told the Brooklyn Paper, “I play loud music in the house or otherwise I’ll go insane.” I’m sure this Brooklyn neighborhood is one of many around the city and around the country that could report similar surges in frequency of low-altitude airplane passovers. But most dispiriting of all were the comments readers posted to this piece.  Virtually all of the comments are from people saying either that they live in the neighborhood and don’t notice the noise and (therefore) people should stop whining about it, or from people noting how much louder it is in many other places and (therefore) people in Park Slope should stop whining about it.

As the WHO guidelines indicate, neither one’s own failure to be woken by the noise, nor the fact that noise might be louder elsewhere invalidates the fact that this noise is sufficient to play havoc with our bodies and lives. What the commentators telling the activists to “get over it” don’t get is that their ability to tough it out mentally macho urban style does nothing to safeguard their blood pressure, the potential changes taking place in their hormone levels, the neurocognitive/performance effects that disrupted sleep may be causing, even when they’re not aware of being woken–the accidents that they might be prone to, the depression risks, etc., etc.

Just because you’re a bonafide wimpless Alpha Type doesn’t mean noise is not degrading your health just as much as it is the health of the person  complaining against the growing environmental hazards of our soundscape.

The WHO study aptly cites a verse by the first-century Roman poet Juvenal:

The sick die here because they can’t sleep. For when does sleep come with rented rooms? It costs a lot of money to sleep in this city! That’s why everyone’s sick. Carts clattering through the winding streets, curses hurled at some herd standing still in the middle of the road could rob Caesar or a seal of their sleep!

Noise is a perennial problem in the history of human civilization. But that truth should not blind us to the fact that  traffic noise levels are now far higher and more constant than they were in Juvenal’s Rome. If Caesar and the seals weren’t sleeping in the first century, one shudders to think how dysfunctional the empire might have become on account of the noise-related sleep deprivation we face today. Well, perhaps the U.S. Congress gives us some indication of what that scenario might look like. And we can only pity the seals in our grossly noise-polluted seas…

A very nice essay from Judith Shulevitz in The New Republic gives the back-story of the current salt glut in our diet. Fundamentally, we find that we’re more prone to consumer saltier foods, even when we’re not hungry. But salt, as Shulevitz writes is only one-third of the ”unholy troika of ‘hedonic’ ingredients” along with fat and sugar. She recaps research from former FDA commissioner David Kessler’s book The End of Overeating that reveals horror movie-style industrial food laboratories bent on creating  “hyperpalatable foods.” The “supernormal stimuli” contained in something like a Swanson Hungry-Man XXL carved turkey meal has the power, to “alter the landscape of the brain,” partly by releasing a flood of dopamine.

In addition to its intrinsic merits, the story caught my eye because, as I’ve been arguing on this blog and in my book, we face an analogous situation in the world of sound today. The noise we hear moving from loud restaurants to cacophonous stores to jangling streets–and inward to the safety of our own private MP3-player noise bubbles is fatty, sugary, salty sound–hyperpalatable sound that makes us crave more of the same, even when our bodies and brains are already glutted with noise. We need to think about analyzing our daily sound intake and doing whatever we can to develop a more sane acoustical diet. There are many commercial and infrastructural forces aligned against this aspiration, however.

To the best of my knowledge, (and please correct me if I’m wrong on this point) there has at this point been very little research done on the relationship between dopamine release and acoustical noise. However, there are two intriguing exceptions: studies looking at the effect of white noise on the memory performance of children with ADHD issues, and studies looking at the impact of noise on MDMA (ecstasy) toxicity. In the former case, the key finding relates to the fact that ADD/ADHD syndromes are associated with low dopamine levels and the addition of acoustical noise can (up to a point and depending on the type of noise) raise these levels to where attentional capacity is enhanced. This effect may be tied in with stochastic resonance whereby a band of moderate noise entering an already disordered cognitive system resonates with the signal of purposeful brain activity, amplifying that relative to the competing din. In the case of ecstasy, findings indicate that the neurochemical and behavioral responses to MDMA are heightened by the addition of noise — and dopamine release is one of the most prominent of these effects.

My suspicion is that we’re going to find that even without bringing ADD/ADHD or ecstasy into the equation, noise has the capacity to release dopamine in everyone’s brain. And the implications of such a finding would be enormous. For one thing, it might help to explain our clandestine addiction to noise.

It would also illuminate the particular ecology of noise we’re caught in. All the ways that we’re distracted, over-stimulated, under-reflective and desperately “reactive” to every novel stimuli that comes our way because of the environmental noise surfeit has the most acute impact on young people. How could our children today not 
“inherit” attention deficit disorder from the noise-dominated social contract of our agte? How could we possibly expect them to learn the values of activities like reading, daydreaming and quiet contemplation when every direction they turn they see a world that adults drowned in hyperpalatable sound? Rope-a-dopamine a-go-go. Collective ecstasy; individual oblivion. The beat goes on.

Eénwielige motorfiets | Nationaal Archief

One of the arguments my book puts forward is that while the world may not be noisier today than it was 100 years ago, we are, paradoxically, living in a world with less silence. By this I mean that while in, say, late Victorian London one might well have been living nearer to a loud factory than any one in the developed west is likely to be living today, there were also more places one could walk to without great exertion where it was possible to find some escape from the din – places off the grid of commerce and infrastructure: a riverbank not closely bordered by a highway; a patch of land left to nature; etc. Professionals who work with urban sound issues speak of cities in the past having greater “acoustical contrast” than do  typical metropolitan areas today.

I came across a reference to an article written by Michel F. Phillippot several decades ago for a journal called New Paterns of Musical Behavior that points to further evidence for the diminished availability of quiet spaces — and the rise of incessant low frequency ambient noise.

Philippot analyzes reports of the noisiness of 17th century Paris, describing the taxonomy of different sounds that residents described: “shouting, carts and carriages, horses, bells, artisans at work.” Thinking about the nature of these sounds, Philippot writes that “the average sound level must have shown marked fluctuations, that its envelope must have had peaks and lows so that it was actually ‘cut up.’ He also points out that this noise “must have been very poor in low frequencies” since the different sources Parisians described were all in the medium to medium-high frequency range.  However in recent times “with the invention of the automobile, the noise became more continuous and the lower frequencies were strongly increasing,” Philippot writes, “(the deep rumbling of urban traffic, the continuous noise of cars that are driving, the broad spectrum and long envelope of approaching and departing planes.) The ‘modern’ ambient noise might be briefly characterised as heavy and continuous, with slow fluctuations that are difficult to identify and locate, as this kind of noise tends to encompass us.” Philippot extrapolates eloquently from a remark the mathematician and philosopher d’Alembert made near the end of his life, “I stop talking, when a car drives by…” We know from this that d’Alembert “could still enjoy moments of silence between two cars, a blessing of which the victims of the low and continuous noise in big towns have meanwhile been deprived.”

This is why, rather than just telling obnoxious noisemakers to pipe down, I think we have to make a larger societal commitment to upping the quotient of spaces in which moments of silence can still happen. As the work of the urban planners I write about in London, Scandanavia and elsewhere proves, it’s not a utopian fantasy to think that by taking advantage of our expanding understanding of psychoacoustics, along with technological advances in noise abatement, these spaces could be created even under today’s economic conditions. Here’s the thing: we could get rid of all the boom cars, leaf blowers, jet skis and Harleys and still find we didn’t have a moment’s respite from the “heavy and continuous,” physiologically degrading effects of “modern” ambient noise.

Bare foot boy wearing a hat, Powerhouse Museum Collection

Okay — this research isn’t exactly talking about the effects of silence on mental health; but I would argue that it’s pointing to the equation of perceptual experiences that most of us think about when we imagine quiet time. Here, they come under the slightly off-putting (a little righteous and assertive) rubric of “green exercise.”

As Science Daily reports, this research, published in Environmental Science & Technology set out to discover how much daily ”green exercise” was necessary to enhance people’s mood and general sense of well-being. “Green exercise” was defined as time spent performing activities such as working in a garden, walking a nature trail, farming, fishing and taking a break in a park — all activities that often correlate with quiet time. Interestingly, the study authors found that just five minutes a day was sufficient to produce powerful benefits for mental health. Indeed, from the point of view of health policymakers, the greatest positive impact on self-esteem derived from these five-minute doses of green exercise.

Though I cringe at the jargon, the findings are still very encouraging. As researcher Jules Pretty remarked: “We know from the literature that short-term mental health improvements are protective of long-term health benefits.” His colleague, Joe Barton added, ”So we believe that would be a large potential benefit to individuals, society, and to the costs of the health service if all groups of people  were to self-medicate more with green exercise.”

One of my central arguments is that while noise pollution certainly exists (perhaps the most egregious form is that produced by shipping industry and naval sonar, which is catastrophically disrupting migratory, feeding and mating patterns among marine animals) the majority of aggravating noises in our lives do not meet this definition of the extraordinarily loud.

As I write in the book, “rather than conceiving of the noise surrounding most of us as a pollution issue, we might think of it as a dietary problem. Our aural diet is miserable. It’s full of over-rich, non-nutritious sounds served in inflated portions—and we don’t consume nearly enough silence. A poor diet kills; but it kills as much because of what it does not contain as for what it includes. For this reason, we approach the challenge of correcting unhealthy eating habits differently than we do that of plugging the chimney on a factory. When we educate children about diet, we talk not only about the hazards of fast food, but also about the benefits of healthy nutriments. Why can’t we do the same with quiet?”

Hopefully, this kind of research can help us think about how to improve our sound diet by adding to our intake of natural sounds.  Recognizing how unlikely it is that we will find a way to make the whole world quieter, we can yet receive enormous positive health benefits from introducing a little more of the sounds most of us associate with peace and quiet into our daily noise binge. Even five minutes interruption to the cacophony can help us begin to rebuild our relationship to the larger world. We no longer feel we have to block it all out as an invading barrage. We begin to unfold in the place we actually are.

Okay — this research isn’t exactly talking about the effects of silence on mental health; but I would argue that it’s pointing to the equation of perceptual experiences that most of us think about when we imagine quiet time. Here, they come under the slightly off-putting (a little righteous and assertive) rubric of “green exercise.”

As Science Daily reports, this research, published in Environmental Science & Technology set out to discover how much daily ”green exercise” was necessary to enhance people’s mood and general sense of well-being. “Green exercise” was defined as time spent performing activities such as working in a garden, walking a nature trail, farming, fishing and taking a break in a park — all activities that often correlate with quiet time. Interestingly, the study authors found that just five minutes a day was sufficient to produce powerful benefits for mental health. Indeed, from the point of view of health policymakers, the greatest positive impact on self-esteem derived from these five-minute doses of green exercise.

Though I cringe at the jargon, the findings are still very encouraging. As researcher Jules Pretty remarked: “We know from the literature that short-term mental health improvements are protective of long-term health benefits.” His colleague, Joe Barton added, ”So we believe that would be a large potential benefit to individuals, society, and to the costs of the health service if all groups of people  were to self-medicate more with green exercise.”

One of my central arguments is that while noise pollution certainly exists (perhaps the most egregious form is that produced by shipping industry and naval sonar, which is catastrophically disrupting migratory, feeding and mating patterns among marine animals) the majority of aggravating noises in our lives do not meet this definition of the extraordinarily loud.

As I write in the book, “rather than conceiving of the noise surrounding most of us as a pollution issue, we might think of it as a dietary problem. Our aural diet is miserable. It’s full of over-rich, non-nutritious sounds served in inflated portions—and we don’t consume nearly enough silence. A poor diet kills; but it kills as much because of what it does not contain as for what it includes. For this reason, we approach the challenge of correcting unhealthy eating habits differently than we do that of plugging the chimney on a factory. When we educate children about diet, we talk not only about the hazards of fast food, but also about the benefits of healthy nutriments. Why can’t we do the same with quiet?”

Hopefully, this kind of research can help us think about how to improve our sound diet by adding to our intake of natural sounds.  Recognizing how unlikely it is that we will find a way to make the whole world quieter, we can yet receive enormous positive health benefits from introducing a little more of the sounds most of us associate with peace and quiet into our daily noise binge. Even five minutes interruption to the cacophony can help us begin to rebuild our relationship to the larger world. We no longer feel we have to block it all out as an invading barrage. We begin to unfold in the place we actually are.

I recently spent a little time trying to track down when it was that intentionally loud restaurants began to be perceived as an issue on the urban dining scene. The earliest reference to the subject I was able to find in a major newspaper was “De Gustibus; Restaurant Noise: Does it Spoil a Good Meal?“ an article by Marion Burros published by The New York Times in October, 1983.  Although Burros begins by noting that “Either by ignorance or by design a majority of the trend-setting restaurants opening these days do not consider the noise factor,” she quickly goes on to itemize different ways in which restaurant noise levels were being very consciously manipulated. Writing about the popular new restaurant Ernie’s on the Upper West Side, Burros states, “It was designed to give patrons an opportunity to size up the new arrivals. Conversation is virtually impossible but the restaurant is jammed.” Of the just-opened Cafe Luxemburg, Burros says, it ”could have been designed to be quieter if that was what the owners were seeking; they were not. They deliberately set out to create a space with a high energy level that would look and sound crowded and, therefore, successful, that would attract the young, affluent crowd. It’s difficult to book a table because those who want to be part of the scene love the energy level. The tiled walls, terrazzo floor and zinc bar make the sound reverberate as the place pulsates. Any slack in conversation is taken up by greatly amplified Muzak.”

The desire to create a place where people are seen rather than heard — a high energy space, which is architecturally reflective and intellectually numbing — remains of course de rigueur among trendy restaurant designers to this day.

A few years after the Times story, Judith Sims at the Los Angeles Times filed that paper’s first major report on the subject — “Taking the Din with your Dinner.”  Sims’ article fills out a little more of the story behind the appeal of restaurant noise. In an interview with Sims, Barbara Lazaroff, who had designed such ahead-of-the-curve loud restaurants as Spago and Chinois on Main, notes “I think people want a fun, exciting atmosphere. When you walk into a space and there’s no noise at all, you feel like, ‘it’s dead in here.’” If quiet is equated with morbidity and stasis, then, the logic is, loudness lets you know you are alive and enjoying yourself. Sims also spoke with architects. Josh Schweitzer who had designed “one of the loudest restaurants in town,” the Border Grill, told Sims, ”It’s not so much what we do, as what we don’t do. The old style ‘rug joints,’ with red drapes, red-flocked wallpaper, red carpets, people aren’t so much interested in that anymore.” Instead, Schweitzer opined, what works is a place that’s visually more complex but clean and open. As a result, when you pack people in, you get more of a party environment.” There are a  number of questions raised by Schweitzer’s riff. Why should a place designed to be clean and open but packed with people create a party environment? Whatever the explanation, Schweitzer is clearly picking up on a key trend  that remains operative when he mentions that concept of a party environment: the restaurants, he says, “are trying to be the clubs.”

I remember about a year ago interviewing an architect from the young “design and concept” firm AvroKO, which is responsible for some of New York’s most egregiously noisy restaurants. I was trying to get at the thinking behind their predilection for mounting an all-out sonic assault on diners in their spaces. Although the executive I spoke with presented himself as being on the cutting edge of a new trend, what he told me in fact overlapped closely with Schweitzer’s remarks 24 years ago. (It’s easy to forget history when it’s too noisy):

“We’re always battling aesthetically because we like hard surfaces. It’s intuitive.  Other people have carpet. We hate carpet. We hate soft ceilings. People like lively spaces.  We go for hard brick surfaces. As we get older it’s harder to distinguish sounds anyway. That’s geographical. And age related. I do think that people are more accepting now of not having table cloths. To get three stars you used to have to have a tablecloth. Now you don’t have tablecloths. You’ve taken out a huge amount of soft surfaces that absorb a lot of sound. We don’t do tablecloths. What’s more interesting to me than why a place is loud, is the effect that changing other design elements happens to have on sound. It’s not that people look at sound and create the rest of experience based on that—the rest of the experience has created a greater acceptance of sound. Just as it’s okay not to have table cloths, there’s a reaction or a symptom of that which makes for a louder space. We don’t focus on sound. Other things trump it. I’ve noticed in our spaces that they’re very loud. I sometimes have a hard time sitting in Public or Stanton Social. But I’ll go over to the side and it will be better. Sound is just not our first priority. I don’t mean to sound cavalier.”

The only thing better than not “sounding” cavalier would be to not be cavalier. But what is the sound of not being cavalier? Maybe that sound is inaudible in all the noise.

The close of Burros’ piece describes being at the Odeon in the early evening, before other diners start arriving in volume: “Conversation, laughter, the clink of glasses and the clatter of plates are at a warm and friendly level. You can hear yourself think and can converse normally with your companions. There was a time when that was called civilized dining.”

One of the main reasons our world is so loud is because of a larger societal tilt away from intimacy as a value toward the notion that we’re summoned by the god of the body to sustain a perpetual collective ecstasy.