Speaking Up Matters More Than You Think

Courage is often contagious

The room was small. A machine sat on the table with a dial that went up to 450 volts of electricity, past a label that read “Danger: Severe Shock.” One by one, ordinary people were asked to sit at the machine and deliver what they believed were painful shocks to a stranger in the next room (in fact, no one was being shocked). Most of them did it.

You’ve probably heard of this famous obedience experiment. What most people don’t know is that the researcher who devised it, Stanley Milgram, also ran a variation. When he put two other participants in the room who refused to deliver the shocks, only 10% of people kept going — down from 65%. It turns out people are much more willing to refuse when they aren’t the only one.

Most of us will never be asked to shock a stranger. But we’re all asked, constantly, to decide whether to stay quiet when something seems wrong. The uncle who makes racist comments every Thanksgiving. A group chat where everyone jokes about someone who isn’t in it. A class parent who always has a backhanded comment about the child whose behavior is “an issue.”

We tell ourselves it’s not worth making a thing of it, that speaking up won’t change anything and will just create tension. It’s never been easier to talk yourself out of saying something. When so much of what’s wrong in the world feels outside your control, the thing at your own dinner table starts to feel small.

And what’s worse is that the internet cosigns this all the way down. Pick your battles. Protect your peace. Don’t waste yourself on something that won’t change. The advice sounds reasonable (and to be honest, I’ve said those words to many clients myself). But lately it seems like we’ve decided that because we can’t do everything, we shouldn’t bother doing anything.

Milgram’s variation says otherwise — disagreement changes the room. It signals something to the person being talked about, to the person doing the talking, and to everyone else in the room who was watching to see whether this was allowed. You may not be able to turn your mother into a different person at 73, but you can influence what she says at the table when you’re there.

I’ve spent plenty of time in my own practice telling clients that Thanksgiving is not the place to try to change someone’s mind about politics, and I stand by that. Trying to win an argument usually backfires: pushing people hard just makes them dig in deeper.

But speaking up and drawing a line in the sand isn’t the same as arguing. When someone witnesses a small moral act, something shifts in them. Psychologists call it moral elevation, and the research on it is consistent: people who watch someone do the right thing are measurably more likely to do the right thing themselves later, even in situations that have nothing to do with the original moment.

If this feels like a big ask, start with something small: a short sentence that lands soft and doesn’t demand a response. “That’s not funny to me.” “I don’t see it that way.” Or if that feels too loaded to say, you could try, “Let’s talk about something else” or “That is certainly a unique opinion.”

The goal is just to make it clear that you don’t agree with their message. Your uncle may not change his worldview between the turkey and the pie, but the room — including the person being talked about, if they’re there — will know one person noticed. I’ve gotten this wrong plenty of times. I’ve laughed at things that weren’t funny. I’ve felt my jaw tighten and said nothing, and then spent the whole next day beating myself up. The times I’ve actually said something have almost always been uncomfortable. I’ve fumbled the words. But I’d rather say the awkward thing than spend the drive home wishing I had.