The Unspoken Truth is the Loudest Lie
The Hidden Consequences of What We Choose Not to Say
In my second year at university, like any self respecting student, I spent more time mastering the art of functioning while sleep deprived and hungover than actually studying. One night, after a few too many shandies, I stumbled home in the early hours, not so far gone that I couldn’t walk in a straight line, but drunk enough that a conversation with a shoe rack seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to end the night.
Before bed, I leaned out of my bedroom window for a cigarette, enjoying the quiet of the sleeping town, when a commotion from the garden opposite caught my attention. There then played out a cinematic display of mid-life crisis: my neighbour, wearing nothing but his boxers stormed out of his house, his wife trailing behind him and pleading for him to stop. This wasn’t your usual screaming match of a couple mid-domestic, no accusations, no heated insults, just her desperate attempt to calm him down as he marched straight to the shed.
Only, the shed was locked. So he grabbed a plant pot and smashed at the lock until it broke. At that point, I had a choice, did I intervene somehow, shout down from the window like the nosy neighbour I was, or phone the police? But curiosity got the better of me. I did nothing, I remained silent, glued to the unfolding scene.
I watched as he ripped the shed door open and dragged out a lawnmower, launching it across the garden into the fence. Garden tools followed. A pair of shoes soared over the fence and landed in the street. And then came the golf bag. I could practically feel the tension in the air. His wife was begging him to stop, insisting they could talk about it in the morning, but he wasn’t listening.
Then, like something out of a film, a display of pure absurdity, he reached into the bag, and one by one pulled out golf club after golf club snapping or bending each in half over his knee before hurling the pieces over the fence into the street. It was obvious he was making a point, an utterly ridiculous, drunken point, but a point nonetheless. After obliterating his entire set, he slammed the shed door, stormed back into the house, and that was that.
I sat there for a moment, lit another cigarette, and wondered what the hell I’d just witnessed, and if there’d be a sequel. There wasn't.
By morning, every trace of the destruction was gone. No snapped clubs in the road, no ruined lawnmower, no evidence of his nocturnal meltdown. I moved on with my life.
One Summer’s Day, a Few Months Later
I walked into the garden, eager to enjoy the rare British sunshine, when I heard the voices of my neighbours. They were having a BBQ, friends over, drinks flowing, when the wife piped up, "Why don’t you tell them about your new golf clubs?" The husband, "Tiger", chuckled to himself. And that’s when I learned the real story.
It turns out, Tiger, after being out on the lash all night had come home sozzled and told his missus that he was playing golf the next day. His wife reminded him that they already had plans together and that tipped Tiger over the edge. In a spectacular act of self-sabotage, Tiger decided that he should never play golf again and to illustrate that point he destroyed his clubs.
His mates laughed, calling him a lunatic who’d find any excuse to buy new gear, but that wasn’t even the juiciest bit.
In the cold light of day, regretting his life choices as he cleaned up the wreckage, Tiger had a moment of clarity, "Why let a good disaster go to waste?" With the confidence of a man fully committed to his own delusion, and possibly still a little bit drunk he reported a burglary.
He told the police that someone had broken into his shed, stolen his golf clubs, damaged his lawnmower, and even thrown his golf shoes into the street. He pre-empted every question, assuring the officers that he had "already checked with the neighbours" and that nobody had seen anything, plus there was no CCTV. The insurance company paid out, and Tiger ended up with a brand new set of golf clubs, new golf shoes, a new golf bag, a new lawnmower, and a new shed lock, the perfect crime.
And there I was, sitting in my garden, holding a key piece of information that could undo it all. That could crack the case.
I had a choice to make: speak up or stay silent?
The Unspoken Truth is the Loudest Lie
That night’s absurdity made me realise something: silence, much like Tiger’s drunken demolition, can be just as destructive as any confession. Some lies are whispered, some are shouted, but the most potent lies are often the truths left unsaid. Silence isn’t always golden, it can be a weapon, a calculated omission that, in many cases, is more misleading than the words we choose to speak.
Sun Tzu said, "If your enemy is making a mistake, do not interrupt him." While that might be a clever tactical tip, it also shows how silence can be used to manipulate, mislead, and control, just as effectively as a blatant lie.
If a car manufacturer discovers a dangerous flaw in its newest model but chooses not to disclose it. They haven’t technically lied, but their silence could have deadly consequences for drivers.
In everyday life, silence distorts reality. A friend who doesn’t correct a false rumour, a boss who never acknowledges a hardworking employee, preferring to take credit themselves or a partner who never reveals how they truly feel. They all let the truth remain unspoken, as ominous as any lie.
Why Do We Avoid the Truth?
The Fear of Consequence: Honesty can lead to conflict, loss, or discomfort, and many would rather stay silent than deal with the fallout.
Power and Control: Withholding information lets you control the narrative; if you shape what others know, you shape how they see you.
Social Conditioning: We’re taught that "if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all," which is great for saving face but not so brilliant for unearthing the truth.
The Path of Least Resistance: It's easier to say nothing and see what happens, especially if it doesn't directly affect you.
Self-Deception: Sometimes we hide the truth not just from others, but from ourselves, because facing an uncomfortable reality is often harder than pretending everything’s fine.
The Cost of Silence
Unspoken truths rarely remain hidden. In relationships, they breed resentment; in workplaces, they create distrust; in society, they allow injustice to fester. When we choose silence over honesty, we risk letting small omissions accumulate into a mountain of unaddressed issues.
Breaking the Silence
If unspoken truths are the loudest lies, then the solution is simple, speak up. Challenge the culture of silence, whether in your personal life or on a broader societal level. Create safe spaces for honesty and encourage genuine conversation. Recognise when silence is being used as a tool of control, because being honest with yourself and others is the only way to stop those small omissions from turning into catastrophic deceptions.
So, What Would You Do?
Before I tell you what I did with the truth I learned about Tiger, I ask, what would you have done? Be honest, there’s no moral highground here. Would you report it and risk being that neighbour everyone gossips about, or would you let it slide?
The truth was, I’d witnessed the entire incident, and there was no doubt about it. Tiger had committed insurance fraud.
If the police had knocked on my door the next day, I would have told them what I saw. Yet the police never knocked on my door. The case had been closed, the claim had been paid, and Tiger was back to whacking golf balls and cutting the grass as if nothing had happened. All while laughing with his mates.
Would anyone even care months after everything was settled?
Did I really want to be the person who drops their neighbour in it?
Would I be happy standing up in court and giving evidence? That role comes with a target on your back, and a lifetime of awkward encounters with Tiger and his golf buddies.
So, I kept my mouth shut. And even now, years later, I know that the biggest lie I ever told was the one I never spoke out loud. Until now of course, to you.
It was easier to say nothing. Perhaps it was cowardice, or maybe just the practical choice when personal relationships were on the line.
Today, I see that silence isn’t neutral, it’s a choice with its own price. Tiger didn’t get away with fraud because he was clever, he got away with it because I let him. And if my silence cost even a fraction of the integrity I thought I had, then the biggest lie I ever told was the one I never spoke.
My Takeaway
We like to think that by not saying anything, we’re simply not getting involved, but sometimes silence is just as much a choice as speaking up, and sometimes it’s just as destructive as a lie. Tiger’s saga taught me that truth, no matter how absurd or inconvenient, deserves to be spoken. After all, if we don’t call out the big lies, who will? I still raise an eyebrow at Tiger’s antics, but I choose to let my silence be replaced with honest, if somewhat sarcastic, commentary. Maybe now, this neighbourly tale will serve both as a warning and a punchline for both myself and all of you reading.
The Truth You Carry Onwards
Unspoken truths don’t disappear, they linger in the corners of your mind, waiting for a moment like this to resurface. I don’t lie awake at night tormented by my silence over Tiger’s golf club fraud, but I do wonder: if I could ignore it so easily, what else have I let slide since? And more importantly, what might I stay silent about in the future? Because the weight of silence isn’t in the moment, it’s in the accumulation of all the moments where we let things slide. The small omissions. The shrugged shoulders. The times we pretend not to hear, not to see, not to know. Until one day, we realise that the biggest lies we’ve ever told aren’t the words we’ve spoken, but the truths we’ve chosen to bury.
A poem I wrote called The First Grain, feels rather appropriate right now.
Wow, what a story. I think we can all relate to this on some level. We’ve all opted not to speak up for safety, to keep our job, or simply out of fear of conflict. It’s especially tricky when it’s a neighbor.
I had a neighbor once in an apartment complex who would play her music so loud that I could lip-sync to the words. It went on until two in the morning, for hours at a time. Rather than just calling the cops, I decided to knock on her door and ask her to please turn it down. The first time I knocked, it was fine—she turned it down. But the second time, she was pissed, stomped on the floorboards above me, and called me a bitch. So, the third time it happened, I called the cops. But clearly, she knew it was me.
In retrospect, I should’ve just called the cops from the start and saved myself the headache. And to top it off, I had to deal with passing her regularly, and she’d give me some pretty nasty glares.
I like the Sun Tsu quote, for many reasons. The moral dilemma is also conditioned by capacity, mental health, picking your battles, and ultimate personal and societal impact. 😊 often not a simple decision, that's for sure.