Freedom of Speech

Cultural diversity

Freedom of speech and expression is an ideal that doesn’t universally apply. Not all people, cultures, or countries adhere to it. I found myself going down a rabbit hole trying to understand why this right exists, what its core benefit is, and then comparing it to places where freedom of speech is not recognised. From a Western perspective, countries without this right are often seen as backward or outdated, as if lacking freedom of expression is inherently a failure. Yet, these countries still function. Look at places like China, Japan, where speech is restricted to various degrees, and while the critique is often that this is a way to suppress public accountability and prevent criticism of government, there’s another layer that’s cultural.

In many of these societies, people grow up in environments structured around hierarchy. The idea of questioning authority doesn’t just clash with law, it clashes with culture. In these places, elders and leaders are revered not just for their positions but for their experience and perceived wisdom. Questioning someone senior is not seen as seeking clarity; it’s interpreted as disrespect or arrogance. The logic goes: they know more because they’ve lived more. So when younger people or subordinates question them, it’s not just discouraged, it’s culturally inappropriate.

I can see the value in freedom of speech and its role in holding power to account, but I also see why it doesn’t exist in every society. Some cultures work within their own frameworks until they’re told, often by Western voices, that those frameworks are flawed. This reminds me of something from my own life. As a child growing up in Soweto, I never felt poor. Everyone around me lived in the same way, happy, playful, content. We all ate similar food, shared similar experiences, and found joy in what we had. Poverty only became a concept when outsiders came in and pointed it out. Or when TV showed us another way of living. Suddenly, what once felt normal began to feel inadequate.

Well-meaning outsiders would come into the community to offer help: they’d try to shut down local, affordable markets and replace them with supermarkets or higher-end options. The problem was that these changes made the cost of living higher. And that’s when people began to feel poor, not because anything changed internally, but because the standards were now imported and imposed. This same dynamic often happens with freedom of expression. Outsiders label other cultures as backward, and only then do people start to feel their way of life is wrong. But inside those cultures, many people don’t feel oppressed; they feel structured, stable, or even protected. The disconnect lies in outsiders prescribing what happiness and progress should look like.

Freedom of speech is something I’ve wrestled with, especially when thinking about inequalities tied to seniority, particularly in the workplace. Many people enter corporate environments having been raised in cultures where you don’t question authority. You don’t challenge your parents, your elders, or your supervisors. You do what you’re told. You speak when spoken to. That’s how many were brought up. When they enter a Western-style workplace, where you’re expected to be assertive, question decisions, and contribute independently, it becomes a shock to the system.

Some people eventually adapt, they unlearn those deeply embedded norms and develop the skills needed to navigate that space. But many never do. They remain in junior positions, not because they lack ability, but because the cultural foundation they came from doesn’t align with the culture of their workplace. Meanwhile, those raised in Western cultures, who are comfortable challenging leaders or expressing dissent, often rise more quickly. And because this divide often maps onto race, with white employees embodying Western norms and Black employees coming from cultures of deference and hierarchy, it starts to look like racism. But sometimes, it’s not about race, it’s about culture.

Instead of merely demanding diversity or blaming individuals for not thriving, maybe we need to examine how corporate culture itself is built. What would it look like to modify workplace norms in a way that embraces different cultural upbringings? Can we imagine a workplace where people from cultures of deference can still lead, contribute, and thrive without needing to become someone they’re not?

We might also need to ask hard questions: Is every cultural background compatible with every corporate environment? Is it fair, or even realistic, to expect someone from a tradition of non-confrontation to thrive in a system built on confrontation and constant critique? Or do we need a different framework altogether, one that doesn’t force assimilation but instead finds synergy between traditions?

How do we create environments where Black cultural frameworks, built on respect, seniority, and structure, can be a strength rather than a liability? How do we preserve the value in Western ideals of open dialogue and assertiveness while not erasing the worth of other ways of being?

This is what I keep thinking about, not just freedom of speech, but the environments we build around it, and who those environments are actually built for.