The ruling class has always found ways to silence dissent. Sometimes, they send in the riot police. Other times, they wrap their repression in a bow, using calls for civility to neuter rebellion before it begins. Demands for “respectful discourse” and “polite debate” don’t exist to foster productive conversations—they exist to protect power. When those in charge set the rules of engagement, they ensure their critics remain unheard, dismissed as hysterical, irrational, or simply too rude to be taken seriously.

From Aristocratic Etiquette to Colonial Subjugation

Before the French Revolution, aristocrats maintained a rigid etiquette code dictating how one could air grievances—assuming they dared. If a nobleman had a problem with the monarchy, he had to phrase it delicately, dressing his complaints in elaborate courtesy. Anything too direct was vulgar at best, treasonous at worst.

Take the Estates-General of 1789, where citizens were invited to submit grievances. Among them, the crushing weight of taxation was a prime concern. But outright demands for relief? Unthinkable. Instead, complaints came wrapped in obsequious groveling:

“His Majesty, whose paternal heart is ever inclined toward justice, will surely see fit to relieve his most faithful and devoted subjects…”

Translation: Please, dear King, we adore you—if it’s not too much trouble, might we have slightly fewer crushing taxes?

Meanwhile, those too poor for powdered wigs and flowery petitions—the ones without the “proper breeding” for refined discourse—were dismissed as crude, unworthy of political consideration. Yet when revolution finally came, it wasn’t the polite reformers who tore down the monarchy. It was the angry masses.

Fast forward to the Civil Rights Movement, and the same strategy was at play. Martin Luther King Jr.—now sanitized as the gold standard for “respectable” activism—was relentlessly criticized in his time for being too disruptive. In his Letter from Birmingham Jail, he took aim at these critics:

“I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is […] the white moderate who is more devoted to ‘order’ than to ‘justice.’”

Civility, in other words, wasn’t being used to facilitate dialogue—it was being used to delay justice indefinitely.

The Modern Weaponization of Civility

Today, the expectation of politeness remains a powerful tool of suppression. Calls for “civil discourse” are routinely used not to engage ideas, but to erase them.

Take social media, where civility rules seem to be enforced selectively. Figures who challenge corporate power, state overreach, or elite interests often find themselves de-platformed for “violating community standards,” while those reinforcing the status quo roam free. The ever-shifting moderation policies of platforms like Facebook, X, and YouTube reveal a simple truth: civility is often just a flimsy pretext for censorship.

In politics, we see the same pattern. Whistleblowers and dissidents—Chelsea Manning, Edward Snowden, Julian Assange—aren’t just attacked for breaking the law. They’re vilified as unpatriotic, reckless, and disrespectful. Meanwhile, politicians and corporate elites—who commit far greater crimes—are protected by their polished speeches and expensive suits.

This dynamic plays out in activism as well. Take Black Lives Matter. The outrage wasn’t just about the movement’s message—it was about the tone of the protests.

  • BLM protesters disrupted rallies—and were scolded for being disrespectful to political discourse.
  • They blocked highways—and were told they were inconveniencing hard-working Americans.
  • They staged “die-ins” in shopping malls—and were accused of disrupting business.

The focus was never on why they were protesting, only on how inconvenient it was for everyone else. People claimed they weren’t against the message, just the “methods”—which conveniently meant they could ignore both. BLM became a laughingstock to some, a menace to others, but for many, it was never allowed to be taken seriously.

When Civility Is a Leash

To be clear, civility isn’t always bad. A society that completely abandons respectful discourse risks descending into chaos (or, at the very least, into Elon Musk’s version of social media). But when civility is selectively enforced—used to muzzle the powerless while allowing the powerful to operate unchecked—it stops being a virtue and becomes a leash.

Those who demand politeness from the oppressed while tolerating brutality from the elite aren’t defenders of order. They are enforcers of injustice.

History has made one thing clear: real change doesn’t come from those who play by the rules of “respectable” conversation. It comes from those who refuse to be polite in the face of oppression.