Psychology Behind the award-winning Anime - A Silent Voice

By NAFISA AHMED

Sympathizing with the bully-now that's a hot take, isn't it? But What if he's carrying the same broken burden of insecurity, self-loathing, and depression?

The Psychology behind the Award winning Animation film- A Silent Voice By Nafisa Ahmed Sympathizing with the bully-now that's a hot take, isn't it? But What if he's carrying the same broken burden of insecurity, self-loathing, and depression? A Silent Voice might seem like a gentle, romantic slice-of-life animation film at first, but it peels off into a traumatic story like onion. Beneath its soothing serene animated scenes, it orchestrates a raw, unflinching dive into guilt, trauma, and the scars we all might relate to at some point in life.

A Film That Transcends Time

Directed by Naoko Yamada, this 2016 anime isn't just a movie—it's an emotional gut punch. The story revolves around Shoya Ishida and Shoko Nishimiya, two high schoolers whose lives are tangled together by a past filled with cruelty and regret. Nishimiya, a deaf girl, whose only desire is to just fit in. Alas, her disability bounds her into a closeted barrier from others in elementary school. Because of this, she easily becomes an easy target. Ishida, who's desperate for validation, impulsively joins in tormenting her, oblivious to the damage he's causing. He and her eventually end up in a great scandal that results in Nishimiya transferring schools. Her bullying stopped, but the physical and emotional damage was done. This, however, turned the tables as Ishida became the next target of isolation and bullying. His friends slowly begin to abandon him and he shuts himself up from the world as guilt, fear, and dejection shackles his soul and mind. Years later, he sets out to make amends, and reconcile with Nishimya but can the wounds of the past ever truly heal?

What makes A Silent Voice so immersive and realistic is its "grey character" and absence of a villain portrayal. Initially, Ishida's actions come off as cruel, but they don't come from malice—they come from a desperate need to belong. That perhaps many of us experienced this as well. Depression tangled with regret. Initially, the audience develops a general loathing for Ishida, especially during the infamous hearing aid incident (he accidentally pulled it out resulting in blood and fright in the class) that ultimately becomes the turning point for both Shoko's transfer and Ishida's journey of being ostracized. It is self-evident that Ishida's actions stem from passive-aggressive behavior influenced by peers, social norms, and a desperate need to fit in or be validated. In school environments, following the 'tides' is quite a common pattern where dominant groups single out an individual to reinforce social hierarchies that children perceive from adults.

A study by the National Center of Education Statistics proves that a lack of inclusivity and acknowledgment about being different or disabled- it results in such students being more likely to be bullied. Thus, the infamous incident shifted the tide from Nishimiya to Ishida as he became the 'scapegoat'. This is the most thought-provoking aspect of Silent Voice as we behold the breakthrough of scapegoating and mob mentality. Although everyone in the class played a role in the bullying scandal, Ishida was thrown off the ship as the only bad guy. Scapegoating is a well-versed concept done by Baumeister and Leary in 1995 where one person becomes the bearer of collective guilt. The mob mentality where individuals follow the dominant behavior even though it is wrong or unethical as the social tides shift, a concept introduced by Doris is still evident and common among everything including from children's classrooms to political teams. We too share a part in this concept as we make decisions based on the majority.

The movie also unfolds the bitter aftermath of depression. Depression and its effects are not only bound to the victim but also heavily affect the family. Nishimya's family dynamics add another layer to her struggle. Her younger sister, Yuzuru, shows dissociative behaviors, such as photographing dead animals, as a coping mechanism since she sees her sister losing the "essence of life" and being locked up in the room. This reflects the psychological concept of secondary trauma, where family members of individuals with disabilities or psychological disorders also experience an emotional strain.

The Twisted Cycle of Guilt and Redemption

A rare yet simple syndrome among depressed patients, that often gets buried in society is guilt. In Nishimya's case, instead of resenting her tormentors, she spirals into blaming herself. In one scene, she scrubs Ishida's vandalized desk; tears trickling down her face and her trembling body resembling the inner turmoil, as she continues erasing the evidence that she is the"cause". It's devastating to think of a child going through such complex emotions. Her train of thought process can be seen in her inner monologues- "What if I didn't enroll here? I am the reason everything fell apart. Everyone especially Ishida would be better off if I were dead." This is a psychological response called "self-directed blame", where individuals believe they are the cause of their own suffering and even the suffering of others. This self-blame is tragically common among bullying victims.

They internalize every bad outcome in life, creating a narration where they villainize themselves. Nishimiya's pain is a stark reminder of how deeply words and actions can cut, even if it wasn't directed at her. Guilt is an infernal poison-one drop it slowly spreads and eats away at you, long after the damage is done. In the film, Ishida embodies this perfectly. Since that incident, he withdrew himself from the world, cornering himself in the darkness by covering people's faces with X marks because he couldn't bear to look them in the eye. He has convinced himself that he doesn't deserve any interaction or connection- a result of having prolonged low self-esteem.

Psychologists call this type of response moral injury—a deep, unmanageable struggle to reconcile one's past actions with one's present self. Ishida's journey isn't just about earning Nishimiya's forgiveness, it's about forgiving himself as well. Let us think about how many times we, too, have taken responsibility for things beyond our control. When a friend drifts away, we usually assume it's because we weren't "good enough. Or, when a relationship or family bond fails, we always deep inside convince ourselves that we are the problem. It's an ingrained human response, one that rips your self-worth apart like an invisible monster. Nishimiya's guilt—just like ours—is misplaced. According to the American Psychological Association, this internalized self-blame and chronic depressive thoughts can lead to low self-esteem, chronic anxiety, and even suicidal ideation which we see both Ishida and Nishimiya go through as they try to hide that with forced pained smiles.

The Turning Point—A Life Saved, A New Beginning

One of the major emotionally intense moments in A Silent Voice is the bridge confrontation, where Ishida is forced to face his past alongside the very friends who turned on him. The scene screams volumes by its rawness, of the raging emotions, in each character making it the first breakthrough contradiction with the film's initial commence on serene, introspective imagery. This moment captures the psychological turmoil of unresolved conflicts as he specifies how each of his friends is not as nice or good as they think they are. His words like "You don't even know me and You only thought about your self-loving image" unleash their repressed emotions, we see how guilt, resentment, and misunderstanding have shaped their lives. Ishida's former friends—who once abandoned him—express their own frustrations, revealing that trauma inflicts everyone involved in different ways. The anger, tears, and desperate arguments are strikingly realistic.

It's rare to see an anime film tackle emotional breakdowns with such unfiltered authenticity. People aren't always ready to forgive. Trauma-infused pain is long-term pain no matter how tiny or simple or short it is. So is the fact that apologies don't always fix what's broken but only provide closure to recover and move on. This confrontation marks the start of the plot-thickening, showing us that healing thrives on honesty, no matter how tough the truth might be and this was something that was encouraged for us to do as well, instead of living in a masked world - hiding your utmost feeling even from your loved ones. Then comes the most popular and insanely well-projected scene of Nishimiya's attempt to end her life which truly reinforces and emphasizes the drastic effect and eye-opening perception for both characters. Despite her warmth and the care she's shown to others, she's overwhelmed by a deep sense of self-hatred. As she steps onto the balcony, the world around her falls into an eerie silence as if time itself has paused.

The scene plays with dark colors and silent background noise that alludes to the situation. Instantly, Ishida reaches out and grabs her.

The animation in this moment does a splendid job of capturing the depth of her anguish and surprise as Ishida, who has been haunted by her because he lost his friends twice (and supposedly should be happy if she dies-according to her), chooses to save her. But in a heartbreaking turn, he's the one who falls. His near-death experience becomes a pedestal shift of transformation—not just for him, but for everyone in his life. This scene is a powerful and unflinching reminder: suicide doesn't stop the pain; it only passes it on to others. The raw and moving portrayal of how interconnected our struggles and healing can be is mindblowing to see in the movie industry in general.

Lastly, in the unforgettable final scenes, when Ishida wakes from his coma, we see Shoko drowning in guilt. It's the first time both characters reveal their most vulnerable selves. Ishida signing "friend" as he acknowledges his past actions sends ripples of emotion through the air. Meanwhile, Shoko lets go of her bottled-up feelings through sign language, illuminating the beauty of their authentic connection. Their heartfelt exchange becomes the ultimate healing balm, allowing them to release their burdens and guilt. This was the first time he "listened" to her and not just heard. Nishimya struggled mostly because she never found someone who was willing to "listen" to her. That subtle yet one of the most fundamental differences is the biggest reason she led herself to the edge of despair and wanted to end it all.

You might be hearing. But are you listening? This is what was portrayed when Ishida learned sign language to no longer have the barrier of communication. It was the best reconciliation step but what good was it if he never "listened" to her? Him, brushing off her numerous attempts to speak out her emotions heavily inflicted further pain and trauma. This was a masterpiece projection of how depressed or lonely people feel when they speak and everyone around them only hears but doesn't listen and they go down that rabbit hole of misery. This is solely why this specific scene speaks volumes of emotional disparities, for they are finally face to face- peeling out into their most true forms and actually communicating. The Art of contrast between the plot and animation Beyond its profound psychological messages, A Silent Voice stands out as an awe-spiring visual and auditory wonder. Every sound effect, hues of color theory, and camera work depicts and adds to the sensory aspect of the film. For example-scenes shown through Nishimiya's eyes frequently feel nearly muted, suggesting how she perceives the world around her. This approach helps audiences to correlate her reality, evoking sympathy not through the spoken word but through silence.

Even in the last scene, we see a sudden firework lit up after they officially reconciles-adding up to that euphoric moment. Such an approach invites audiences to experience her reality, fostering empathy not through dialogue, but through the absence of sound. Water emerges as a recurring theme, embodying the emotions that the characters struggle to communicate. Subtle hints like koi fish swimming gracefully and humming reflections rippling on river surfaces, play both the calm and chaos of the protagonists' minds. Ishida's view of people with "X" marks over their faces is the most iconic tactic that illustrated his self-imposed social exile so well without any extra scenes or inner monologue. Finally, that moment when those "X" marks fall away carries an ineffable amount of strength and his way of accepting himself. This artistic mix enhances A Silent Voice beyond a simple story into a visual masterpiece with an unspoken psychological aspect of life where even silence establishes such powerful plotlines.

Healing, Inclusivity, and Acknowledgment

The ending of A Silent Voice proves that forgiveness doesn't erase the past, but it helps healing and hope to sprout. As Ishida walks into a school festival, finally lifting his head and for the first time the X marks that used to symbolize his isolation and loss of faith in humankind begin to fade. The silence and for the first time the noises of people and children laughing, and customers bickering at the market all flood in. We can genuinely feel the surge of relief and happiness for him as he sobs at the fact he was able to free himself from his shackles which he used to believe was impossible for him. This embodies the essence of inclusivity and how naturally magnificent human connection is. Nishimiya's struggles reflect the real-life challenges faced by people with disabilities, and the film urges us to do better—to see them, to include them, and to listen. If this story resonates with you, take a moment to reflect: Who in your life might need to hear that they matter? Perhaps is it you, yourself? Have you ever felt that prolonged awkwardness of being uncomfortable in your own skin? If you haven't seen the movie, watch it and tell us your response!