There was a time when I held an exalted view of the West. Some passages from Kishore Mahbubani's Living the Asian Century: An Undiplomatic Memoir, deeply resonate with his awe of Western civilisation — its democratic ideals, intellectual traditions, and promise of liberty.
Like Mahbubani, I too used to believe in the moral supremacy of the West, imagining it as the custodian of free speech and human rights, a beacon of justice in an often unjust world.
However, time has a way of revealing the complexities hidden beneath the surface of such grand narratives.
Just as Mahbubani came to question the West's moral high ground through his experiences in diplomacy, I too began to see the cracks in this idealised image.
The rhetoric of freedom and equality so often touted by Western societies seemed to falter under the weight of hypocrisy.
Nowhere is this dissonance more glaring than in the realm of free speech, a principle supposedly held sacrosanct, yet one that is wielded selectively to suit geopolitical interests and cultural biases.
This disillusionment is epitomised by the rise and fall of Helen Thomas, a pioneering American journalist of Arab origin whose uncompromising questions and fearless pursuit of truth challenged the highest echelons of power.
As the first woman, and indeed an Arab woman, to serve as the president of the White House Correspondents' Association, Thomas broke barriers in a male-dominated field, earning a reputation as a formidable force in political journalism.
Yet, for all her contributions to the craft, her legacy is often overshadowed by her outspoken criticism of Israel and US policies in the Middle East.
Her fall from grace — sparked by a single comment suggesting that Israeli settlers should "get out of Palestine" — was swift and unforgiving. Decades of trailblazing work were reduced to ashes, her career derailed by accusations of anti-Semitism.
The incident underscored a troubling reality: while critiques of certain regimes, ideologies, and cultural practices are celebrated as acts of courage, any dissent against Israel or Zionism is often met with immediate vilification, shutting down meaningful dialogue.
The double standard becomes even starker when contrasted with the treatment of figures like Salman Rushdie and Ayaan Hirsi Ali, celebrated as icons of free speech for their critiques of Islam and traditionalism within the Global South.
Their voices, amplified and protected by Western institutions, are lauded as beacons of enlightenment.
Yet when figures like Thomas, or even journalists covering Palestinian perspectives, speak out, the same institutions often condemn them, branding their criticism as intolerable, even dangerous.
As Thomas pointed out in an interview, "I can call the president of the United States anything in the book, but you say one thing about Israel and you're off limits".
This dichotomy is not merely theoretical but has tangible consequences, as illustrated in a recent Le Monde Diplomatique article which examined the challenges that face anyone expressing sympathy for Palestine.
In a nation that prides itself on its commitment to liberty and secularism, the institutional and societal pressures to conform to pro-Israel narratives are immense.
Those who dare to present alternative perspectives, particularly those that highlight Palestinian suffering, are frequently labeled anti-Semitic or accused of betraying the nation's values.
While Islam and Christianity may be lampooned in the country that ushered Europe into the Age of Enlightenment, Zionism seems to be holier than holy within the public discourse of the Western elites.
Thomas understood this disparity all too well. For her, journalism was about asking the hard questions, exposing inconvenient truths and holding power to account — whether that power resided in the Oval Office or in the policies of foreign allies.
But her steadfast commitment to these principles came at a great cost. Her career plummeted so dramatically that even the Society of Professional Journalists discontinued the Helen Thomas Award for Lifetime Achievement, a prestigious accolade awarded since 2000.
Thomas's story is a cautionary tale, forcing us to confront an uncomfortable question: can free speech truly exist when it is selectively applied, protecting some voices while silencing others?
Her legacy challenges us to examine the systemic double standards that shape whose truths are heard and whose are dismissed.
To honour Thomas is to recognise the courage it takes to speak the unspoken and to demand a world where dissent is not met with ostracism, but with dialogue.
* The writer is an administrative and diplomatic officer and a Khazanah-OXCIS scholar with an MSt in diplomatic studies from Kellogg College, University of Oxford