The curse of knowledge: What we cannot unsee
The curse of knowledge is the challenge we face when we become aware of something, and our understanding of the world changes irrevocably. While we can learn and unlearn certain things, the knowledge we gain shapes our reality in ways that can be difficult to shift. Sometimes, we can never unsee what we have seen.
When I observe what is happening around the world, within our communities and organisations, I can’t help but draw parallels and lament the curse of knowledge. I see many turning a blind eye to brutality and mistreatment. And I cannot help but wonder: Are these the same people who would ignore someone being assaulted or be okay with one woman a week being killed by a partner or something “less” like a colleague being harassed at work? And before someone justifies inaction by saying, “Well, no, those are different scenarios,” I think: no, it is the same silence that allows these behaviours to persist.
The silent crisis: when inaction becomes complicity
Recently, I organised a self-defence course for women and young girls with a certified instructor. The reason? My daughter is about to embark on a trip overseas, and while I have worked hard to instil various life skills in her, I realised I had overlooked one of the most essential: the ability to defend herself. Sure, she knows to be vigilant, speak up, and report problems, but would she be able to protect herself if push came to shove? Would she know how to move away from danger? And then I asked myself: Would I? Despite more than a decade of martial arts experience, would I be able to rely on myself for defence?
This reflection led me to consider the broader concept of self-reliance, which encompasses not only physical defence but also moral and ethical self-defence. Would we stand up when the moment calls for it, or are we hoping someone else will? Will we freeze and shout at the world’s injustice, or will we act? That realisation was one of many lessons I learned from that weekend. The most resonant lesson that keeps repeating for me is this: No one is coming to rescue us.
No one will stand up in a meeting and say, “That’s not on,” when a colleague speaks over us. No one will defend us when someone insults our ethnic background or makes inappropriate advances. If someone does speak up, consider it a stroke of luck, but we must not expect a repeat performance. Every woman learns this lesson at some point: we must be able to defend ourselves—not just physically, but morally too. We must learn to stand up for ourselves. Sure, there are laws, company policies and perhaps some outstanding leadership, but that is no guarantee of defence.
Of course, this is not just a gender issue; men face their own challenges. We have seen that those who ignore injustices generally often also overlook colleagues being harassed or bullied. I have heard from numerous women (and some men) who recounted experiences of being propositioned at trade fairs and industry events or consistently bullied in meetings, and those witnessing this behaviour often choosing to remain silent. Some may justify their inaction with statements like, “I can’t risk getting involved.” But what does our silence say about us? What does it make us?
Moral courage is the ability to stand up for what is right, even when it is uncomfortable, inconvenient, or risky. I do not have many career regrets, but the ones I do stem from moments when I witnessed bullying behaviour—often from those in senior positions—and did not speak up. I remember reporting especially egregious instances to human resources or my manager, thinking I had absolved myself of responsibility. But the truth is, silence in those moments is a form of complicity. By not acting, I allowed bad behaviour to go unchecked and poor leadership to be rewarded. This weighed heavily on my younger self’s conscience.
I am not moralising here. We have all said or done something in the heat of a conversation that may have hurt someone, even if unintentionally. What I am referring to are those critical moments when we could—and must—have spoken up but did not, when we saw recurring destructive behaviours and chose not to speak up. Yes, I learned my lesson and became fierce when I needed to, and those early experiences helped shape me in that regard. I never wanted to be a leader who let lousy behaviour slide – even if it was my own. Accountability is a must.
The cost of silence: what does it say about us
And please, the next time someone claims that what happens in another country does not affect us here or that leadership issues in one company do not impact our own, remember this: people move around. Those in other organisations may join ours and become our leaders or colleagues. The problems we ignore today might land on our doorstep tomorrow.
As leaders, we are not immune. Sure, we have mortgages and families to think about. As one manager once told me, “I have a wife that likes expensive things” (true story). But we cannot let these concerns blind us to our responsibilities. We need to stay vigilant—both regarding our behaviour and that of others. When we allow actions that contradict our values or the values of our company or team, we undermine our leadership.
Leadership is not just a role; it is a responsibility. If we fail to hold ourselves accountable and not speak up in the moments that matter, we risk becoming irrelevant as leaders. Frankly, I don’t think we can call ourselves leaders. Moral courage is not just about speaking up when it is easy or when others are watching; it is about being consistent in our values at work and beyond. Leadership principles have become even more relevant in a world looking for people, governments, and institutions to trust.
We are all interconnected. Whether on a global stage or in the privacy of a boardroom, our actions—or inaction—leave an imprint. Silence, as much as action, speaks volumes. But what does it say about us as “leaders” when we choose not to act?
True leadership and real moral courage come when we stand up in the moments that count, the ones no one else wants to address. It is in these quiet, often uncomfortable decisions that we shape the world we live in.
The curse of knowledge means we can no longer plead ignorance. We see what is wrong, and that leaves us with two choices: to act (which can also mean supporting those who are acting) or to do nothing. Inaction is a choice—and one we will likely regret.
I often reflect on how we can find ourselves in one of three categories: those who make things happen, those who watch things happen, and those left wondering what just happened. The choice is ours—let us be the leaders who make things happen. In the end, no one is coming to rescue us. It is up to us.
I wonder if you ever been in a situation where you felt compelled to speak up but hesitated? What made you decide to act—or stay silent? I would love to hear your thoughts and experiences.
And as always, if you invest in yourself, the rewards will be unfathomable.
Until next time.
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