Imagine standing on the pavement, observing an injustice unfold. Perhaps a villain is performing egregiously bad deeds, or a bureaucrat is quietly rearranging paperwork in a way that ruins lives. You shrug. You mutter, “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” and continue scrolling through social media. This is the practical magic of neutrality: invisible, polite, and utterly useful if your goal is to help the oppressor.

Desmond Tutu, who knew more than a little about elephants on mice, explained it in no uncertain terms: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” And just to make sure nobody missed the metaphor, he added: “If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”

Neutrality is less a moral high ground and more a cosy armchair for the comfortably oblivious. Sitting on the fence does not protect the powerless; it propels the powerful further uphill. Doing nothing is never neutral—it is a choice, and it usually sides with whoever is already winning.

Britain’s “neutrality” in the American civil war

In 1861, Great Britain declared neutrality after the Confederate attack on Fort Sumter. Queen Victoria, on the advice of ministers Viscount Palmerston and Lord John Russell, officially recognised the Confederacy as a legitimate belligerent alongside the Union. Very proper, very neutral—on paper.

In practice, neutrality meant British merchants shipped millions of pounds of saltpetre and over 400,000 rifles to Confederate forces. The Union tut-tutted in outrage. Newspapers like the New-York Tribune called Britain out for supporting a slave-owning regime while simultaneously lecturing on morality.

Some British politicians defended themselves, claiming Lincoln’s “paper blockade” was unenforceable, and that the war was really about preserving the Union rather than abolishing slavery. Meanwhile, voices like John Bright and Karl Marx were less impressed. The elephant was firmly on the mouse, and neutrality did nothing to shift it.

The moral and philosophical argument

History and morality share a simple observation: pretending to be neutral in the face of oppression is not noble, it is convenient.

Elie Wiesel, Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate, put it plainly: “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” Martin Luther King Jr. stated: “The hottest place in Hell is reserved for those who remain neutral in times of great moral conflict… [an individual] who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” Paulo Freire, critical pedagogue, added: “Washing one’s hands of the conflict between the powerful and the powerless means to side with the powerful, not to be neutral.”

In short: neutrality is the polite version of “I did not notice.” It usually ends up helping whoever is already winning.

A Tale of misguided equilibrium

Neutrality has not gone out of fashion; it simply wears more and different hats.

Fire extinguishers optional

The Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement is not a political convenience. Its demand is simple: Black lives should not be devalued or disproportionately threatened. Yet institutions often describe BLM as “political” to justify doing nothing. Ignoring the movement because it is inconvenient is like standing idly while a fire rages, insisting that you are simply “observing the flames.” Research indicates that 93% of BLM protests are peaceful (Mapping Police Violence, 2025), but the narrative often fixates on rare disturbances. From this perspective, neutrality is less a shield and more a fan that keeps injustice blowing in the right direction.

Silence as harm

Gallaudet Research Institute, 2023: Language deprivation affects roughly 70% of Deaf, DeafBlind, DeafDisabled, and Hard of Hearing children, with BIPOC children disproportionately impacted. Professionals who offer “neutral, parent-choice advice” rather than advocating for early access to sign language effectively prolong this deprivation. Neutrality in this context is not safety or prudence—it is negligence dressed up in politeness.

Silence as complicity

In cases of sexism, failing to intervene is not neutral. It reinforces the behaviour and preserves existing hierarchies. Active bystander education programmes such as Stop Street Harassment show measurable success in challenging cultural norms. Choosing not to act is a tacit thumbs-up for continued mischief.

There is no neutral ground

Both history and ethics converge on this point: neutrality in the face of oppression is an illusion. Inaction, whether in nineteenth-century geopolitics, contemporary social movements, or everyday interactions, serves the interests of the powerful while undermining the vulnerable.

Progress demands reflection, courage, and decisive action. Amplifying marginalised voices, challenging systemic inequities, and refusing the comfort of passive observation are necessary. Returning to Tutu’s metaphor: if the mouse is to survive, it requires more than passive attention—it requires the elephant to lift its foot, preferably yesterday. Neutrality is not an option. One either contributes to a fairer society or props up the structures of oppression.

Evidence locker