The Silence of Good People: How Apathy Fuels Oppression

They say evil prevails when good people do nothing. But they rarely ask: Why do good people do nothing? Are they afraid? Are they too comfortable? Or worse — do they not care?

In a world rotting with injustice, the most dangerous virus is not hatred.. It is apathy. The passive indifference of the privileged. The careful neutrality of the educated. The dignified silence of the so-called “good citizens” who sip their coffee while the world burns..

Oppression doesn’t always wear a beard or hold a gun. Sometimes, it looks like a father who tells his daughter to “adjust.” Like a teacher who skips over chapters about dissent. Like a government official who signs quietly on a law that erases someone’s freedom. And every time a mouth remains shut, every time a hand does not rise — injustice grows bolder.

I have seen this silence firsthand. Not just in the faces of mullahs and politicians, but in the eyes of writers, artists, doctors — those who should have been the torchbearers of truth. They looked away when women were burned for dowry. They shrugged when bloggers were hacked to death for their thoughts. They turned the volume down when a girl screamed behind closed doors.

And still they call themselves “good people.”

Let me say it plainly: goodness without action is a corpse. A moral without a backbone is decoration. You are not good because you didn't rape or kill. You are good only when you stand against rape and against killing — loudly, inconveniently, relentlessly.

We live in times where standing up for truth can cost you friends, jobs, safety — even exile. I know. I have paid the price. But I would rather lose everything than lose my voice. Because silence, my dear readers, is not neutral. It always takes the side of the oppressor.

What frightens me today is not the noise of extremists. We have always had them. What frightens me is the growing trend of liberal cowardice. The fashionable detachment. The lazy relativism that says “every side has a point” when one side is holding a knife. They say we must be balanced. I say, balance is for scales — not for justice. If one hand is tied and the other is punching, do not tell me to be balanced. Tell me to stop the punch.

There are millions out there who believe in equality, secularism, and human rights. But belief is not enough. Belief without courage is like a lamp with no fire. The world does not need more silent believers. It needs bold defenders.

Speak. Even if your voice trembles. Write. Even if your words offend. Protest. Even if you are the only one on the street. Because your silence today will become someone’s prison tomorrow.

History does not remember the comfortable. It remembers the brave. And courage, like oppression, is contagious.

So break the silence. Before it becomes your complicity.