I’m not quite sure how to wisely deal with all the expectations around silence — who should speak, when they should speak, and how loudly they should do it. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. famously said, “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” Albert Einstein echoed a similar concern when he said, “The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.”
Those quotes matter. They should challenge us. But I also wonder if we sometimes apply them too quickly and too narrowly.
We observe other people and assume they are being silent. But maybe they aren’t silent at all — maybe they’re just responding differently or not as loudly as we are. Maybe we assume silence equals doing nothing, when in reality it often means doing something quieter, slower, or less visible. Not all responses come with a virtual megaphone.
I’m reminded of the words of American writer Elbert Hubbard: “He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.” There’s truth there. If someone can’t make room for how another person processes or responds, they probably won’t hear them even when they do speak.
I was also struck by the recent words of contemporary writer Matthew Royse, who named what he called “the uncomfortable truth no one wants to hear”:
“We live in a world that rewards noise.
Social media has led us to believe that every thought deserves an audience, every opinion requires a platform, and silence equals irrelevance.
But the smartest people… fostering genuine relationships…
They have mastered something the rest of us haven’t. They know when to shut up.”
In other words, the most successful people don’t win by talking more. They win by knowing when not to.
There is, in fact, a time to speak and a time not to. I remember sharing my concerns about the primary presidential candidates in 2016, 2020 and again in 2024. Multiple people told me it was important that I only express concern about one of the candidates, because the other was “the lesser of two evils.” I’ll admit, that logic confused me; the lesser of two evils is still, so-to-speak, evil.
My assessment wasn’t that Biden, Clinton, Harris and/or Trump were evil people. It was that each had serious-but-different competency flaws. Given that reality, it makes sense to me that people would disagree — not only on what was right or wrong, but on how to respond, and even whether to speak at all.
Which brings me back to this: there are moments when speaking is necessary and moments when silence is the wiser response. Neither is a failure of conviction. Too often, we judge others by the volume or timing of their words, assuming that those who don’t speak like we do must not care as deeply or think as clearly. In reality, restraint can come from reflection, humility, prayer or a genuine desire to listen before reacting.
In polarized times, it makes complete sense that wise people would respond differently. Some feel called to speak plainly and immediately. Others choose patience, quiet action or careful timing. Wisdom does not always look the same, and integrity is not measured by how loudly or publicly it is expressed. Making room for different responses isn’t weakness — it’s an acknowledgment that discernment takes many forms, especially in complicated and emotionally charged moments.
Respectfully,
AR