Why Democracy Suffers When Famous Voices Go Quiet

And why silence doesn't equal safety

Before I dive into this piece, I feel I owe you - loyal Ugly Politix reader - an explanation for my recent silence.

Earlier this month, I was stopped in my tracks by two pieces of unhappy news within a period of just 24 hours. First, I learned that a former colleague - a personal hero of mine who had spent his entire working life in public service - died suddenly of a heart attack, just as he was settling into his well-earned retirement. And, while still absorbing that news, I found out that a close friend - a father of two children under 10 - has been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour, and given less than two years to live. I am not exactly sure why I, a mature man in his mid-50s, should be rocked to my core by such news, but I was. These things just seem to hit harder as I get older and am reminded of my own - and indeed everyone’s - mortality.

As someone who can’t seem to write well when I’m not in the right headspace, I found myself starting and abandoning several pieces that simply weren’t up to scratch. I want to express my gratitude for your patience during this hiatus, and I hope that today’s piece marks my return to the fray with the energy and clarity you expect from Ugly Politix. Thank you.

---

I want to talk about something important that’s been thrown into sharp relief by Gary Lineker’s recent departure from the BBC - the chilling effect that our toxic public discourse is having on voices we need to hear.

You probably remember the furore a while back when Lineker criticised the then government’s inflammatory rhetoric on immigration. His comments weren’t an endorsement of any particular party or policy, just a plea for basic decency in political debate. The backlash was swift and severe. He was taken off air. News headlines screamed abuse. And his livelihood was put on the line…though ultimately it wasn’t destroyed.

Then the more recent controversy - a retweeted social media post containing an emoji that some interpreted as antisemitic. Lineker didn’t write the post, but he took responsibility for reposting it, apologised immediately, and quietly agreed to leave the BBC sooner than planned. No defiance. No fanfare. Just an abrupt end to a glittering career.

The emoji incident alone wouldn't have ended Lineker's career - that much seems clear. His departure was the culmination of years of tension. A slow-burn conflict with the BBC over his willingness to speak out. The final straw, perhaps, but not the whole story.

However you view the ending of Lineker’s career (this chapter of it, anyway), the message it sent out was loud and clear: if this can happen to someone as careful, respected and mild-mannered as Gary Lineker, it can happen to anyone. And if speaking out means risking your livelihood, many in positions like his will simply choose not to.

That’s the deeper issue here. When the cost of public comment becomes too high, we don’t just lose celebrities, we lose the entire middle ground of public discourse.

Teachers stop discussing civic issues. Business leaders bite their tongues. Musicians, doctors, athletes - anyone with a platform or a reputation to protect - learn to keep their heads down. And in their absence, public debate becomes dominated by two groups: those who peddle rage and division for profit, and those who say nothing of any real substance.

Democracy doesn’t thrive in that kind of environment. It needs dialogue. Disagreement. Discovery. It needs a space where people can speak up, make mistakes, learn, adapt, and try again. That space is shrinking, and that should worry us all.

There’s a hard truth here that we in the campaigning world often find uncomfortable to admit: we don’t WANT to need celebrities to get our messages across. But in practice, without them, connecting with the people we need to speak to is a damn sight harder.

Most ordinary people aren’t reading white papers on voting reform. They’re trying to get through the week - working hard, raising their kids, just coping. In that context, messages about issues as niche as democratic reform often only break through when someone famous shines a spotlight on them.

That’s not because fame is more important than substance. It’s because attention is the currency of our time, and visibility is how ideas get traction. When celebrities use their platforms to amplify democratic causes, people pay attention. When they retreat into silence, many of those causes disappear from view entirely.

Lineker’s departure was not just a media story. It was a warning.

It told other public figures - some of whom might otherwise have spoken up on issues like disinformation, electoral reform, or political accountability - that the risks of engagement outweigh the rewards.

This dynamic doesn’t just damage campaigners like Open Britain. It weakens democracy itself. When those with influence feel they can’t safely express principled views, the space for thoughtful, constructive conversation narrows. What’s left is either noise or nothing. Neither is helpful.

So how do we fix this?

The answer is not for public figures to water down what they say, or for us to lower our expectations of them. It is to recognise that speaking out on sensitive issues is hard, that it requires an extraordiary amount of care, and that they will be more likely to make mistakes operating outside their area of expertise. It is to create an information environment that enables them to recognise mistakes, learn, adapt and improve the contribution they make, not one where a relatively minor indiscretion brings cataclysm. That requires us all to show a sense of proportion, to distinguish between error and malice. And it means accepting that ideological purity is a dead end if what we want is real, sustainable democratic progress.

If we don’t change the nature of our public debate, the only voices left speaking in it will be the loudest and least constructive. And we all know where that road leads.

Every public figure who chooses career safety over principle makes it a little harder for the next one to speak out. But the opposite is also true. Courage spreads. And we need to help it do so.

When someone like Lineker takes a stand, it creates space for others to speak more freely. And we need that. Not because celebrities are our saviours, but because they are lightning rods in a system that often fails to amplify ordinary voices.

Proper democracy requires everyone who’s acting in good faith to be able to say their piece. It needs people with a platform to stop mistaking silence for safety. Because without robust debate, democracy weakens. And when democracy weakens, we all become a lot less safe.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this piece, please consider subscribing. Ugly Politix is free (something made possible by the generous voluntary donations of Ugly Politix readers and Open Britain supporters). Please also consider following me on BlueSky…my verified ID there is https://bsky.app/profile/mkieran.com