By Nahrizul Adib Kadri
When we are young, we are taught that the loudest person in the room is the one with power. I remember my mother calling me home to bathe because it was almost Maghrib time, her voice rising above the chatter of us children playing marbles. Or that kindergarten teacher who told us to line up in a straight line, her clap sharper than the noise we were making. In those moments, authority was loud.
As adults, many of us carry that lesson forward. We assume that volume equals strength. That certainty equals wisdom. Yet over the years, I have come to see the opposite. Shouting rarely convinces anyone. More often, it is a sign that the argument itself is running thin.
The art, then, is not in raising your voice first, but in holding it back. In waiting. In choosing silence or steady calm when the heat rises. To be the last to raise your voice, or better yet, never to raise it at all, is not weakness. It is discipline. It is presence.
Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic emperor, once wrote: “How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it.” Anger makes us reckless. It closes our ears, clouds our judgment, and makes repair harder than the issue ever was. I think of the times I myself have let irritation speak before reason. Rarely did it solve anything. More often, it left a crack in trust, a regret in memory.
Rumi offered another reminder: “Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.” The imagery is perfect. Thunder startles, but it is the rain that nourishes. Likewise, calm words can build understanding where shouting never could.
This is not easy work, of course. Calmness is not the absence of emotion. It is the steady practice of directing it wisely. To stay composed in the middle of noise requires both preparation and self-awareness.
Breathing and counting to ten are often suggested. They work, but they are only starting points. I have found a few other practices that help anchor composure.
One technique is to delay your response through paraphrasing. When someone says something provocative, repeat back what you heard in your own words before offering your view. This does two things: it ensures you actually understood them, and it gives your emotions a chance to cool. It transforms reaction into reflection.
Another technique is to change posture. Our bodies often signal to our minds. Crossing arms, leaning forward, or clenching fists primes us for conflict. Simply leaning back, placing both feet on the ground, or even softening your gaze can shift your inner state. Calm outside nudges calm inside.
I also like to carry what I call a “mental touchstone” — a phrase or image that reminds me of what truly matters. For me, it is John C. Maxwell’s message from his 2013 bestseller “Sometimes You Win, Sometimes You Learn”. In life, you never really lose. You either earn, or you learn. Holding onto that truth keeps me grounded when conversations turn tense. It reminds me that even disagreements are not defeats, but lessons.
Calmness should not be an occasional tactic, pulled out only when convenient. It works best when it is consistent, when people know that your steadiness is not an act but a character. Over time, calmness builds trust. Colleagues, friends, and even critics learn that your voice will not be pushed by the wind of anger. They learn they can rely on you to stay clear-headed.
This is why I often argue that shouting, or heated arguing of any kind, solves very little. It may give temporary satisfaction, but it rarely brings resolution. Proper dialogue and discussion are what heal divides. They require listening, patience, and space for mutual respect. If the environment is so charged that only shouting is possible, then that is not the place for solutions. In those moments, the wiser path is to step back. Not out of fear, but out of respect for the problem itself.
This approach is not only for public debates or leadership. It matters even in the smallest of daily exchanges. A disagreement with your parents. A tough conversation with an older colleague in the office. A sudden frustration with a stranger cutting into your lane while driving. These are the areas where the practice of calmness is tested.
We live in a world that is quick to outrage and slow to listen. Social media thrives on the loudest take, the sharpest jab, the most immediate reaction. But that is not where solutions are found. True solutions are shaped in slower, quieter spaces.
So the next time you feel the urge to shout, pause. Repeat back what you heard. Change your posture. Reach for your touchstone. Remember that calmness, consistently practiced, builds more than an argument ever could.
In a noisy world, the quiet voice often carries the farthest.
Ir Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the Principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya. He may be reached at nahrizuladib@um.edu.my