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It is a curious paradox that in many human societies, despite serious societal problems like corruption, injustice, environmental decay, and abuse of power staring us in the face, the majority often remain silent. This silence is not limited to authoritarian regimes or repressive workplaces; it is found even in democratic countries and in everyday communities. We have endless drawing-room laments about how things are going wrong, but rarely do we see people translating their discontent into visible, vocal action. The silence of the many has only entrenched problems.
The most immediate reason for silence seems to be fear of consequences. Speaking up often carries tangible risks like loss of employment, stalled careers, social exclusion, or even physical harm. In countries where dissent is criminalized, silence ensures survival. Even in freer societies, workplaces or communities can punish whistleblowers by isolating them or branding them as troublemakers. Silence, therefore, is not always a sign of apathy; it is sometimes the safest option. Many people remain quiet because they feel powerless. When corruption, inequality, or bureaucratic inefficiency appear entrenched, individuals internalise the belief that their voice cannot make a difference. Psychologists call this learned helplessness: the gradual erosion of one’s will to act when repeated attempts to change a situation fail. This mindset spreads across communities. Citizens complain privately about broken systems but shrug off any responsibility to confront them. Over time, helplessness hardens into passivity, and passivity becomes the norm.
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Silence also thrives because of conformity. Human beings are social creatures; we take cues from others. If a group collectively chooses to remain silent, the individual feels pressure not to stand out. The “bystander effect” illustrates this vividly. In emergencies, when many people are present, each assumes someone else will intervene, and as a result, no one does. Applied to broader society, this means problems fester while people wait for someone else—politicians, activists, or community leaders—to take responsibility.
Cultural traditions add yet another dimension. In many societies, respect for authority is deeply ingrained. Questioning elders, teachers, or leaders is considered disrespectful. Children are raised to “not make trouble” and to avoid open confrontation. Over time, silence becomes internalised as a moral virtue. Even educated citizens may hesitate to speak against authority, not because they agree with it, but because their cultural instincts tell them to avoid conflict. People are more willing to speak up when problems directly threaten their own livelihood or dignity. But if the impact is distant—affecting another community, another class, or another generation—silence often prevails. It is easier to look away than to invest energy in confronting problems that do not touch one’s daily life. This indifference allows systemic wrongs to persist. A passive people make problems deepen, and those who benefit from the status quo grow stronger. History repeatedly shows that silence favours the oppressor, the exploiter, the wrongdoer.
Many major movements of change, like the fight against colonial rule, the civil rights struggle, the campaigns for gender equality, did not come because the majority quietly waited. They came because a few broke the silence, spoke up, and slowly gathered others until the minority voice became a collective roar. Entrenched silence can be broken by creating safe spaces for expression. People are more likely to raise their voices if they know they will be protected. Strong whistleblower protections, transparent grievance mechanisms, independent media, and community forums can encourage individuals to speak without fear of retribution. Institutions that reward honesty rather than punish it are vital. Collective platforms—trade unions, civil society groups, neighbourhood associations—help individuals overcome fear by acting together. When one voice becomes many, the risk is distributed, and the cause gains legitimacy. History shows that collective action, not lone dissent, has been the true engine of reform.
Citizens must be taught that questioning authority is not disloyalty, but a civic duty. Schools and universities should create environments where debate is encouraged, dissent is respected, and critical thinking is valued. A society that nurtures curiosity and debate is less likely to accept silence as a default. Breaking the silence does not always require grand gestures. Small acts matter—refusing to participate in unethical practices, supporting colleagues who speak out, or challenging unfair treatment in everyday life. These incremental actions chip away at the culture of silence and create ripples that can grow into larger waves of change.
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Breaking the silence of the many is neither easy nor quick. The weight of history, habit, and fear is heavy. But it is not unbreakable. Every society has seen moments when the quiet majority found its voice—whether in mass protests, reform movements, or acts of solidarity that surprised even the participants themselves.
Society’s problems do not resolve themselves; they recede only when challenged. Silence only helps problems to grow. This basic truth must be kept in mind. Speaking up should not be seen as an act of defiance, but as a normal practice of responsible citizenship. By breaking the silence, we make society healthy and keep the citizens on the path of rectitude.
(DISCLAIMER: This is an opinion piece. The views expressed are the author’s own and have nothing to do with OTV’s charter or views. OTV does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.)
