Self censorship, progressive behaviours or the creep of a more insidious tide?

Today something landed harder than I expected. Not a headline, just a reply on YouTube.

A car reviewer I have followed since his early days posted a new BMW review. As he talked about the grille, I chuckled. Those famous kidney grilles have gone from oversized beaver teeth to something that resembles the moustache of a less than loved dictator from the 1930s. Hardly comedy gold, just my sense of humour at work. I commented: “ahh yes, BMW have gone the full Adolf with that grille.” Tongue in cheek, light hearted, like the video, move on.

Next morning, coffee in hand, I saw his reply. I clicked expecting a laugh. Instead: “Come on, I cannot believe in 2025 we are still seeing this kind of bullshit. Cop on.”

I frowned and reread my comment. Had I missed something? No, it was what I remembered. A visual comparison, nothing more. Had I overstepped a line? Is it now bad form to say a car looks like something? Am I out of touch?

Then the feeling beneath the shock showed itself. It was not the joke that offended him. It was the risk. In 2025 offence is judged less by intent or context and more by what might upset an algorithm, a sponsor, or a portion of an audience. Right and wrong are decided by who pays. His reply implied I was primitive while he was progressive, but what I heard was: protect the revenue stream.

That is what bothered me. Not a healthy push for balance, but a soft censorship that keeps the surface smooth so nothing threatens reach or monetisation. If that is the mechanism shaping taste and speech, then we are being moulded less by conviction and more by commercial calculation. Authentic expression gets traded for the safest possible version of ourselves. Appease the widest demographic. Keep the water still.

I considered replying with an honest apology and an explanation of intent. Then I pictured the thread: the usual extremes piling in, any measured point lost. I deleted the comment and unsubscribed. I am not sure I am happy with that choice, but my respect for him sank. The sour taste remained. Why did this bother me so much?

Because if society is shaped by its prevailing view, that can be fine when it reflects organic moral evolution. But today popular opinion is driven through portals and feeds that can amplify, throttle or erase at speed. That is no longer a natural tide. It is a managed one. Under the right conditions it becomes insidious, and whoever holds the reins can bend the shoreline.

We often see coercive behaviours disguised as modern and compassionate, while people keep their real beliefs private for fear of standing out. Humans fear isolation. The online world magnifies that. The line “In 2025 we are still seeing this bullshit” kept ringing because it captured a truth. We have become a society that is not willing to say what we think in public. It feels safer to keep that for trusted rooms. That is the part that chills me.

I lived in China for five years. I know how saying the wrong thing can follow a person and their family. There, most people hold two opinions on each subject: the public version and the private version. The skill is hard learned with consequences that last. You learn what can be said and where. You learn the line.

The west once prided itself on defending another person’s right to disagree. I no longer feel we are that place. We have lost the appetite for personal consequence and settled into a herd that values safety in numbers. Step away and people gasp at the stupidity of risking your standing. Better to blend in than wander out and stand out.

I thought of Orwell’s 1984. We imagine a dystopia arriving with boots and sirens. More often it arrives like a tide, each small wave pushing the boundary a little higher. In that world, the smart person keeps quiet, keeps safe, remains part of the machine and remains alive. But alive is not the same as living.

The herd is alive. It is fed, protected, safe. When its utility ends, it is replaced without ceremony. After a life of being directed, the end comes on someone else’s schedule. Common sense, they say. Survive, keep your head down.

What is the opposite of that? The lion. It decides, it risks, it eats when its choices work and goes hungry when they do not. Its senses are sharp because life demands it. It is not hiding from life. It walks a tightrope between survival and destruction and is, at all times, fully lived.

In our stories the lion is king. The herd does not get a title. It is not one thing, just a mass, a resource. The lion may lose, but at least it plays a real game.

So I will leave you with one question. On your last day, which animal will your life have most resembled?