A couple of days ago marked the launch of Anthology for Listening vol. II, published by Bureau for Listening. In my essay for the anthology, I experimented with a form of writing that eventually took on the title Λιμενικό Σώμα. Unwanted Listening: A Proof of Concept. It also had an interactive, hypertextual version published on itch.io including some sounds (which is a major experiment in digital writing for me). Yet, the experiment unfolded on multiple levels. First, I tackled a highly contagious, uncomfortable, and uneasy topic: transgenerational trauma. This trauma reveals itself (among other ways) through my listening practices and modes of listening. For this occasion (inspired by a discussion with Brandon LaBelle at an event in January 2024 – a year ago! – as well as many essential conversations with Morten Søndergaard), I formulated the concept of “unwanted listening.”

Listening itself is often discussed in a highly positive light, associated with the ability to stay focused, attentive, and present—qualities epitomized by Pauline Oliveros’ now nearly proverbial concept of Deep Listening. But (and here the pun is intentional, as will soon become clear) while listening to Brandon LaBelle’s talk on Third Listening in January 2024 at the Art Hub in Copenhagen, I couldn’t help but reflect on all those situations where we are, in a way, forced to listen. This compulsion can arise simply and tragically for survival, or because there is no escape under certain circumstances—such as the moments when we are spoken at, especially as children, and bombarded with the grim stories of previous generations.

It seems that such experiences shaped my attitude toward listening from a very young age. I realized this has resulted, among other things, in a profound inability to focus whenever I am subjected to long, steady verbal threads, including lectures and talks. My mind usually drifts away—not from boredom, but from a deeply ingrained inability to engage with long forms of spoken language delivered in a quasi-conversational mode, but without space for pauses, questions, or even breath.

There are many layers to transgenerational trauma, which, in this part of Europe, is often compounded by violence against women’s bodies and minds—whether sexual violence or institutional violence through medical practices surrounding reproductive rights or childbirth. This is further compounded by the tragic history of the Holocaust and antisemitism, which has given rise to various forms of “unwanted listening.” In such cases, entire sections of familial stories are buried beneath layers of silence, rejection, or outright lies.

Writing this essay (and working on the concept of “unwanted listening”) has been immensely difficult. I don’t see it as complete. It is merely the beginning of a process to reclaim certain stories, as well as to carve out space between the academic approach to writing and research and transdisciplinary practices. These include recording sounds, coding in Twine (helped, but not fully reliably, by ChatGPT), and weaving sounds and video clips into a story that moves toward the unknown.

I am also reclaiming an area I abandoned around 2012 and have deeply missed ever since: listening. Field recording. Writing about it. Why did I abandon it then? Well, that is yet another facet of unwanted listening. And yet another story to tell.

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