I once kept quiet in a meeting.
Not because I was afraid. Worse. Because I had already decided, in my very "wise" mind, that nothing will change anyway.
So I swallowed the thought. The meeting went on. The decision was made. Everyone nodded. Corporate theatre, full dress rehearsal.
A few weeks later, the problem I'd seen became real. Not catastrophic. Nobody was arrested. No dramatic Netflix documentary. Just the ordinary kind of damage that organisations specialise in:
- wasted time;
- confused people;
- unnecessary rework;
- a client slightly less happy than before;
- a team slightly more cynical than before.
And me, sitting there thinking: "Aiyo. I should have said something la."
That was my Silence Tax. And the painful part was this: I didn't only cost the organisation. I cost myself — influence, credibility, and the chance to practise courage while the stakes were still small.
Silence compounds
Sometimes the bill is enormous.
- At Wells Fargo, intense sales pressure led to millions of accounts being opened without customers' authorisation. The bank agreed to pay US$3 billion in 2020 to resolve criminal and civil investigations.
- At Volkswagen, the diesel emissions scandal eventually cost the company more than €31 billion in fines and settlements, according to Reuters.
- At Boeing, the 737 MAX crisis became a painful reminder of what happens when technical concerns, pressure, incentives, communication gaps and leadership choices collide. The company agreed to pay more than US$2.5 billion to resolve a US criminal charge.
- And long before that, the Challenger disaster. The Rogers Commission found the launch decision was flawed, and that decision-makers were unaware of the contractor's original written recommendation against launching below 53°F, and of engineers' continuing opposition after management reversed its position. Seven lives were lost.
In so many failures, someone knew. Someone saw the crack. Someone sensed the danger. Someone had the data. Someone had the discomfort.
But somewhere between the person who knew and the person who could act, the truth got stuck. That gap is culture. And that gap has a bill.
What the Silence Tax pays for
It is the cost of:
- ideas never raised;
- risks never named;
- customer frustrations never escalated;
- process problems quietly endured;
- ethical concerns politely avoided;
- bad decisions nodded through.
It begins with futility
People rarely say "I am terrified." They say:
- "What's the point?"
- "We raised this before."
- "Management already decided."
- "Better don't stir."
- "Just survive until bonus lah."
Culture cannot be built by slogans. If people speak and nothing happens, your culture has already replied. That's why we obsess over rituals and reinforcement loops at Budaya: speaking up has to be invited, heard and answered — again and again — before people believe it's worth the risk.
Lower the tax, one ritual at a time
- Ask for the unsaid. Before closing any decision, ask: "What's the concern nobody has raised yet?" — and wait. (The Unsaid Question)
- Make early warnings normal. Give people a predictable moment to name a risk, and respond with help, not blame. (Early Signal)
- Give the junior person a role. A rotating observer who can challenge how a meeting is run. (MOJO)
- Close the loop, visibly. Every concern gets a reply: what changed, what didn't, and why.
Have you stayed silent when you shouldn't have? What did it cost you — or your organisation?
Watch the video: If only I said something
