Brian Stauffer/theispot.com
In 1963, as the U.S. civil rights movement reached a new peak, most U.S. companies stayed quiet. That changed after events in Birmingham, Alabama. Images of peaceful demonstrators, including children, being attacked by police dogs and high-powered fire hoses shocked the country. Economic boycotts of segregated businesses in and near Birmingham followed. Under pressure from all sides, local business leaders spoke up and pushed city officials to negotiate. That shift helped lead to desegregation commitments.
Companies were not acting as ethical heroes; economic risk clearly mattered. But so did the reality, and the morality, of what was happening in the country’s streets.
Twenty years later, on a global stage, multinational businesses and U.S. academic institutions were drawn into the struggle against apartheid in South Africa, with calls to divest from investments and economic activity with the country. Once again, business was pulled into a societal reckoning, whether it wanted to be or not.
In the U.S., aren’t we in a similar moment today? And how will history, or our future selves, judge the choices we make now?
Let’s just review what Minneapolis has experienced over the past couple of months. In December 2025, thousands of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents began running an operation in the city to, in theory, find and arrest people without legal status. The tactics used by ICE and Customs and Border Protection agents resulted in many people, including citizens, being arrested with unnecessary levels of violence and a lack of due process, the deaths of people in custody, and the high-profile (on-camera) shooting and killing of two protesters.
The deaths and general violence brought tens of thousands of citizens into the streets to demonstrate. Like the Birmingham businesses 60 years ago, Minnesota’s companies couldn’t help but see what was going on. So the silence from much of big business was striking. Yes, dozens of CEOs of Minnesota-based companies released a joint statement calling for de-escalation and coordination between federal and local governments, but they didn’t say anything beyond that. Companies outside the targeted areas stayed silent — even ones with big footprints in places where agents were clashing with citizens.
Companies in Minneapolis and beyond have clearly been trying to lay low. But they hold extraordinary economic and political influence, and there are obligations that come with that power. Acting on that duty means that leaders must deal honestly with some myths and blind spots that are holding them back.
The Myths That Leaders Hide Behind
In my conversations with executives across the U.S. and across industrial sectors, a familiar set of assumptions keeps surfacing. They boil down to three myths about the role of business in society and politics.
“We don’t engage in politics.”
This claim doesn’t survive even light scrutiny. Large companies employ armies of lobbyists at every level of government. Trade associations spend tens of millions of dollars to influence policy. Corporations routinely advocate, publicly and privately, their stances on taxes, regulation, trade, labor law, energy, and much more.
For more than a century, companies have taken strong positions on issues that mix economics and social values. Large, well-funded industry campaigns have fought against the abolishment of child labor, the regulation of tobacco, stronger fuel efficiency standards, and robust climate policy. The fact that taking these positions often aligns with narrow financial interests doesn’t make them any less political.
In a world where corporate political spending in the U.S. faces effectively zero limits (due to the 2010 Citizens United decision by the U.S. Supreme Court), it’s hard to pretend that business stands apart from politics as a neutral observer on the sidelines. There are no sidelines on the biggest issues. The real question isn’t whether companies engage; it’s which issues they actively speak to and which issues they passively speak to with their silence.
“Staying quiet reduces risk.”
On the surface, this sounds reasonable. There are valid arguments for adopting a wait-and-see strategy on some topics (so long as it’s truly a strategy, not just avoidance). Companies may logically conclude that issues like the erosion of democracy or the violent use of state power and terror are too costly or dangerous to comment on. But even from a strictly economic perspective, that logic is missing something.
There’s been a lot of focus in the past decade on companies that chose to engage on hot-button social issues — or simply continued long-standing practices in areas like diversity — and appeared to pay a price: Anheuser-Busch after working with a trans influencer to promote Bud Light beer, Target for selling LGBTQ+ pride merchandise, Disney for weighing in on a state law prohibiting mentioning sexual orientation in classrooms. These examples are often cited as proof that speaking up (or not going quiet) is always costly.
The reality is far more complex. In most cases, it’s difficult to disentangle the cost of the original action from the cost of how a company responded under pressure, or to assess the value gained by many of their employees feeling seen and supported. Some outcomes, too, have been part of broader market trends already underway.
The larger point here is not to unpack these complicated situations but to point out one simple truth: Silence also has a cost. What does it communicate to employees, especially younger ones with more interest in seeing progress on big environmental and social issues like climate change or diversity? Or to long-standing customer groups who have believed that a company they’ve admired has reflected certain values? To paraphrase Warren Buffett (and others), it takes decades to build a reputation and minutes to ruin it.
Minnesota-based retailer Target offers a cautionary tale. After feeling burned by controversy over offering LGBTQ+-themed merchandise, the company publicly pulled back from diversity and inclusion efforts in early 2025. The response was fast and damaging, in the form of consumer backlash and boycotts and declining sales and financial performance. Many Black community members, who had long seen Target as an ally, felt abandoned and turned that displeasure into economic pain for the company. Target also recently faced pressure for not speaking out about ICE activities in its home city. Lost sales today are one thing, but lost trust also has large long-term costs.
In my work with multinationals, I see that CEOs and boards are clearly assessing the risks of staying the course or speaking out. Legal, PR, and communications executives paint a stark picture of potential social backlash or legal risk. What’s far less visible or included in their calculations is a serious assessment of the costs of retreat or inaction. The lesson is not that every statement is wise or that companies should speak out on everything. It’s that silence is not neutral. It sends a message, intended or not.
“It’s not our job.”
I hear versions of this often. Executives may acknowledge the importance of democracy or human rights and then argue that these issues fall outside the mandate of business.
It’s not an unreasonable instinct, but it rests on a very narrow view of both business and leadership. Executives are human beings with families, communities, and a stake in the future. The idea that their only responsibility is maximizing short-term shareholder value is a powerful story, but it is still just a story.
For 25 years, I’ve argued that building companies that help the world thrive is profitable and that business can’t thrive unless people and planet thrive. (Here’s an essay I wrote about that in 2016.) Some moments in history go beyond long-term strategy and into basic obligations we owe to one another. As the creators of Spiderman put it at the close of the character’s first 1962 comic book, “With great power there must also come — great responsibility!” Or, as a rabbi wrote nearly 2,000 years ago, “You are not required to finish the work [of repairing the world], but neither may you desist from it.” This philosophy has guided much of my life.
Companies are more powerful and more wealthy than they’ve been in more than a century. The Fortune 500 alone recently reported $1.87 trillion in profits, with enormous cash reserves. These organizations help shape narratives, norms, and outcomes for society. Choosing not to use that influence when civilians are dying at the hands of federal agents on neighborhood streets is a choice, and one that leaders may eventually have to explain — to their families and even their shareholders.
What Now?
It’s tempting to try and offer a neat checklist of things to do. This isn’t really one of those moments, but here are a few principles worth considering.
First, saying nothing about major societal issues is a decision, and often a high-risk one. Yes, there’s a value in quiet activism and continuing to champion issues like sustainability at a whisper — which is clearly the path almost every U.S. company has taken on issues like climate change and diversity. But progress can be undermined when core democratic norms or the rule of law are under visible strain.
Second, decision thresholds (leaders’ own “red lines”) should be examined and articulated. Under what conditions does silence stop making sense? What events require a response? Running those scenarios in advance rather than in a moment of crisis helps companies act with intention and values rather than with fear.
Third, not every decision should be reduced to a narrow cost-benefit analysis. Some risks, especially around human rights or the integrity of our institutions, cannot be cleanly priced. The costs of silence don’t show up immediately on the balance sheet. While materiality analysis on what issues to speak out on has its place, some challenges are large enough to belong to everyone. The climate crisis is one of them. The erosion of democracy is another.
Fourth, it’s valuable to broaden the circle of perspective and advice. Comms and legal teams matter, but so do employees, communities, nongovernmental organizations, and business groups focused on sustainability, thriving, and resilience.
Finally, don’t act alone. Collective action has almost always provided cover and credibility, from support for civil rights to climate commitments. When the U.S. withdrew from the Paris Climate Accord 10 years ago, hundreds of businesses, governors, and mayors went on to sign the “We Are Still In” agreement. In the past, businesses have come together to challenge specific laws that they felt were discriminatory or presented regulatory attacks on renewable energy. In a more dangerous environment, where leaders may face personal risk, collective courage matters more than ever.
None of this is easy. The CEO’s (and the board’s) job has changed, and many issues are coming to a head at once. The old playbook that focused on Michael Porter’s five forces of competition and on tactics for advantage within an industry no longer fits the world we’re in.
Take this essay, then, as a plea to the most powerful institutions outside government to help shore up the foundations of our society.
It’s so tempting to try and ride this period out. But until when? If corporate leaders postpone engagement until democracy feels stable, institutions feel secure, geopolitical battles over land and metals resolve, or climate-driven disruptions subside, we’ll be waiting indefinitely.
Silence is a strategy. But is it one we can afford?