Not every country forbids criticism of its rulers — but that doesn't mean you're safe to speak your mind.
Take Thailand, for example. It has a law called Lèse Majesté (Article 112 of the Thai Criminal Code). The wording is simple: anyone who defames, insults, or threatens the King, Queen, heir-apparent, or royal family can be imprisoned for 3 to 15 years per offense.
This law is not symbolic. It is enforced.
In 2021, a man was sentenced to 43 years in prison for sharing a few Facebook posts that were deemed critical of the monarchy. He didn’t storm the palace or call for revolution. He just clicked “share.”
Students have been arrested for carrying protest signs with light sarcasm. Activists have been detained at dawn, with no violence involved — just words.
In this country, people know where the red line is. They may not like it, but the law is clear: speak against the monarchy, and you'll face consequences. In a twisted way, there's a kind of transparency in that.
But then there are countries that don’t have a law like Lèse Majesté. No king. No explicit rule saying, “Don’t criticize the leader.”
Yet when you speak, something happens.
Your post disappears. Your social media account suddenly stops showing up in people’s feeds. You don’t get fired — but you don’t get hired either. You’re not arrested — but your bank account gets flagged. Your mother gets a visit from strangers asking odd questions.
In these countries, there is no Article 112. No law printed in black and white. No warning signs. Just quiet punishment delivered by invisible hands.
So which is scarier?
A government that tells you, “Say this, and you’ll go to jail,” — or one that says nothing, but still makes you disappear?
In Thailand, the hand that silences you wears a badge. In other places, it wears a smile.
The difference is not between monarchy and democracy. It’s between open control and subtle manipulation.
In some systems, you get punished for speaking.
In others, you're punished for being heard.
Citizens in Thailand know what they can't say. But citizens elsewhere — in the so-called “free world” — learn the rules only after they’ve been broken. After they lose jobs, friends, access, and opportunities.
They weren’t jailed. They were erased.
And maybe that’s the scariest form of censorship: the kind that looks like freedom until it’s too late.
In both cases, voices are silenced. In both cases, fear wins.
But only one system dares to put it in writing.