By Bruhaspati Samal
There are moments in history when silence becomes louder than slogans, when folded hands become heavier than raised fists, and when the greatest tragedy is not oppression itself but the willingness of the oppressed to live comfortably beneath it. Every civilisation has been shaped not merely by those who fought, but equally by those who watched from the sidelines, waiting for others to bleed so that they themselves could later harvest the fruits of sacrifice.
History is a strange courtroom. It rarely remembers those who remained silent, yet those very people are often the first to claim the rewards won by others. The tears shed by a handful become the smiles of millions. The prison cells occupied by a few become the freedoms enjoyed by generations. Every right that appears ordinary today was once an extraordinary demand raised against overwhelming resistance.
This paradox is not confined to the freedom movements of the past. It continues to haunt modern democracies. Whether the issue is examination paper leaks, unemployment, crimes against women and children, pension reforms, labour rights, environmental protection, or public accountability, the pattern remains painfully similar. A small section protests, another section silently watches, and yet another openly criticises the protesters. Ironically, when the struggle succeeds, the benefits flow to everyone without discrimination.
Political scientists describe this phenomenon as the “free-rider problem”, first systematically explained by economist Mancur Olson in The Logic of Collective Action. Olson demonstrated that whenever the benefits of a movement are public and cannot be restricted solely to participants, many individuals prefer to remain passive and enjoy the rewards without contributing to the struggle. Social movement scholars have repeatedly confirmed that collective action often suffers because people assume someone else will bear the cost while everyone eventually receives the benefit.
This explains why thousands remain absent even when an issue directly affects them. Participation demands courage, time, resources and, sometimes, personal sacrifice. Silence, on the other hand, appears safe. But this apparent safety is deceptive. If everyone chooses silence, no movement survives and no reform is ever achieved.
Take the recurring issue of examination paper leaks in India. Every leaked paper destroys not merely one examination but also the faith of millions of honest students. The consequences are universal. Students belonging to every political ideology, every religion, every caste and every economic background suffer equally. Yet, whenever students organise demonstrations demanding accountability, one frequently observes another section questioning the protest itself instead of questioning the administrative failure that made the protest necessary. Such criticism does not strengthen democracy; it weakens society’s ability to correct its own mistakes.
The same contradiction is visible in the struggles of employees and pensioners. Across India, organised labour movements have, over several decades, secured fundamental rights that today appear almost natural: periodic Pay Commissions, Dearness Allowance linked to inflation, House Rent Allowance, Leave Travel Concession, medical facilities, pension benefits, gratuity, bonuses, maternity leave, compassionate appointments, regulated working hours and numerous service protections. None of these emerged spontaneously from governmental generosity. They were secured after decades of negotiations, demonstrations, strikes, court battles and sustained organisational pressure by trade unions and employees’ associations.
International labour history likewise recognises collective bargaining as the principal instrument through which workers improve wages and service conditions. Yet the curious reality is that many individuals who enjoy these very benefits criticise those who continue to struggle for unresolved issues such as pension security, the restoration of defined pension systems, better working conditions and stronger labour rights. They forget that had previous generations adopted the same attitude, the benefits they enjoy today would never have existed.
Psychology further explains why people remain silent. Many fear retaliation. Others believe that a single individual cannot make any difference. Some assume the movement will fail anyway. A section identifies more strongly with political loyalty than with personal interest. Others experience what psychologists call the “bystander effect”, believing someone else will intervene. Still others convince themselves that neutrality is wisdom. In reality, neutrality in the face of injustice often strengthens injustice itself.
History repeatedly proves otherwise. India’s independence was not achieved because everyone participated. It was achieved because a determined minority refused to surrender. Economic studies likewise demonstrate that collective action produces enormous returns extending far beyond active participants.
The moral question, therefore, becomes unavoidable.
Is it ethically acceptable to enjoy the fruits of sacrifice while condemning those who planted the tree? Can one celebrate improved salaries while ridiculing trade unionism? Can one demand transparent examinations while mocking students who seek accountability? Can one expect justice while discouraging those who speak against injustice?
The next time voices rise against injustice, therefore, the real question is not whether every slogan is perfect or every protest is flawless. The deeper question is whether silence will solve the problem better than participation. Those who remain silent today may indeed enjoy tomorrow’s victories, but history will always know who paid the price. The rights we enjoy today were purchased not by the comfort of spectators but by the courage of participants. Every protest that secures justice becomes a bridge over which even its critics eventually walk. The bridge never asks who built it. But history never forgets.
The author is a service union representative and columnist