There’s always a hush in the land when a bold voice speaks. A hush not of respect, but of secret admiration. “What guts!” whisper the listeners behind closed doors, phones tucked under bed sheets, curtains drawn tight. Then, just as quickly, silence. The applause is private, the cheer is hidden, and the world remains unchanged.
I see this every day. A bold MP stands up in Parliament, speaks truth to power, and the camera pans to a sea of poker faces. Later, when I write my article, either in the newspapers or on social media, there’s no public comment—just a discreet message in my inbox: “Well said, sir, but I cannot like or share; you understand…” Ah yes, I understand. You fear the neighbor, the boss, the ruling party, the police, even the peon in your office. So better to keep admiration under wraps.
But let’s be honest—no revolution was ever won with claps that echoed only inside a pocket. History has shown us this. Hitler didn’t seize power just because he was loud and monstrous. He succeeded because the people were silent. Because the church, with its Bible full of “Fear not, for I am with you always,” chose to fear instead. They prayed in whispers and sang hymns softly, but forgot that even hymns need to be heard to move hearts.
I salute the bold—the journalist who still prints the uncomfortable truth, the MP who refuses to sit down when told, the student who dares to question. I may not always agree with them, sometimes their views stand opposite mine, but courage deserves a salute. Because courage risks the knock on the door at midnight, courage risks the loss of job, courage risks being trolled and trampled.
And what about the cowardly? Those who clap in the dark but stay mute in the light? You have your excuses—family to feed, career to protect, friendships to maintain. But what legacy do you leave? A legacy of fear? Will your grandchildren read history books and find your name under the column: “Spectators to wrong. Applauded quietly, did nothing loudly.”
The bold may fall, but their fall is remembered. The cowardly survive, but history erases them with a shrug. Silence is safe, yes, but silence is also surrender.
So, dear friends who write to me privately, I ask you—pick up some courage. Speak your mind, even if your voice trembles. Post that comment publicly. Say “yes” or “no” without hiding behind locked doors. The world doesn’t change with secret admirers; it changes with noisy, messy, inconvenient voices that refuse to be quiet.
If you still choose silence, don’t be surprised when history does not remember you at all. Or worse, remembers you as cowards.
Because in the end, there are only two groups—the bold and the cowardly. And no prizes for guessing which side moves the world forward…!