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It's not working out.

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Why does the "watch what you say" politeness sow seeds of tyranny in our society?

The sanctimonious nannies are at it again, wagging their fingers with that tired refrain: “Watch what you say. Keep your head down. Stay off X, stay off social..”

They peddle this drivel as wisdom as if tiptoeing through the minefield of cancel culture will save us from the mob.

They’re not saving anyone—they’re tossing us to the wolves. To swallow their advice isn’t caution; it’s capitulation, a selfish plea to let the tyrants win so long as your own hide’s spared. And nowhere is this clearer than in the pro-Hamas, we’re-all-victims (but really thugs) movement strangling universities, unions, students, faculty, and spineless management.

Let’s not mince words: the notion that silence shields you from the thought police is a lie as old as despotism. It’s the siren song of the spineless, promising safety while forging chains.

Say you stand with Israel in a world where keffiyeh-clad poseurs wail for Hamas, and you’re not just a heretic—you’re prey.

But if you think the answer to a world where employers, human rights hacks, and whisper-campaign whisperers scour your tweets for thoughtcrime is to shut up, you’re not just missing the point—you’re begging for the shackles.

Let’s get one thing straight: the "watch what you say" brigade isn’t protecting you—they’re gelding you and (or spaying you if you are female).

For the men, it is hacking off their balls. I'm unsure what they do to the fillies, but it’s not a flattering or aspirational metaphor.

The pro-Hamas brigades, cloaked in victimhood’s threadbare rags, have mastered the art of bullying while crying oppression.

They’ve hijacked campuses—Columbia, Toronto, UCLA—turning lecture halls into echo chambers of anti-Semitic bile. Students chant “intifada” like it’s a TikTok trend, unions nod along to keep their dues flowing, faculty radicalised by decades of tenure-soaked resentment amplify the noise, and management, ever allergic to backbone, rolls over like a whipped dog.

I’ve seen it firsthand. Suspended for seventeen months, defamed for a single post calling out Hamas as the Nazis they are, I’m a walking exhibit of their handiwork. Stress? My blood pressure’s is sometimes 185/106—but I’m still here.

Meanwhile, faculty and students whisper support in private, terrified to speak publicly. They’ve watched the mob—students, professors, unions, even the C-suite suits—crush dissent with the precision of a Stalinist purge. Jewish professors bite their tongues, Jewish and pro-Jewish students shrink into shadows, and the majority?

They’re witless buoys bobbing on a sea of propaganda, too cowed or clueless to form a coherent pro-Israel thought. Silence isn’t neutrality; it’s surrender.

This isn’t just a student tantrum. It’s a full-spectrum takeover. The pro-Hamas crowd, with their blue-haired useful idiots and faculty cheerleaders, don’t debate—they intimidate. They scream “genocide” while ignoring Hamas’s charter, screaming for Jewish blood. They clutch pearls over “microaggressions” but shrug at rocket barrages on Tel Aviv.

And the human rights racket—oh, what a noble façade—rushes in, scalpels gleaming, to carve up your career because someone “felt unsafe” reading your tweet. Evidence? They don’t need it. Vibes suffice.

Meanwhile, the Islamist who calls Zionists subhuman filth, who cheered October 7 - on that very day - like it was a holiday? Free pass. Censorship’s never even-handed; it’s a rigged game, and silence lets the house win.

I sat through a Jewish academics’ meeting in Toronto led by Shai Davidai, a brave Columbia professor fighting tooth and nail against this rot. It was a masterclass in futility. Most attendees were too busy polishing their progressive credentials—“I’m pro-LGBT+, anti-capitalist, no more plastic straws!!”—as if rainbow flags could shield them from a mob baying for Jewish scalps.

They clung to delusions of steering the bureaucracy—the unions, the diversity czars, the anti-Semitism juggernaut—through quiet memos and gentle nudges. Newsflash: you can’t redirect a runaway train by whispering politely to the conductor. Grassroots defiance, loud and unyielding, is the only currency that counts.