I will never be a fan of any kind of political correctness: I

“I will never be a fan of any kind of political correctness: I think it's instant death to creativity.” These words of Mads Mikkelsen, spoken with the calm certainty of a man who has walked through both art and struggle, strike like a thunderbolt against the fog of conformity. He does not speak from rebellion for its own sake, but from a deeper understanding — that true creativity cannot breathe where fear rules the heart. For when speech is shackled, thought grows timid; when thought grows timid, imagination withers. And when imagination dies, the spirit of humanity dims, like a torch suffocating in its own smoke.

In the old days, the poets and philosophers were the voice of the soul. They spoke what others dared not speak, painted what others feared to see. The great artists of every age were the ones who stepped into forbidden territory — who refused to bow to orthodoxy, whether it came from kings, priests, or the whispering masses. Political correctness, as Mikkelsen names it, is not a law written in stone, but a more subtle tyrant — one that dwells in the desire to please, to conform, to avoid offense at any cost. It is the fear of rejection disguised as virtue. And this fear, if allowed to reign, turns the artist’s heart to dust.

Consider the story of Galileo Galilei, the star-gazer who dared to say that the Earth moved. In his time, the world called such words heresy. The “correct” belief was that man stood still and the heavens revolved around him. To speak otherwise was to invite ruin. Yet Galileo, driven by the creative fire of truth, defied the silence of his age. He was condemned, but his vision endured. Centuries later, it is his name that is remembered, not the names of those who silenced him. Here lies the eternal lesson: truth and creativity are born from courage, not compliance.

Mikkelsen’s words echo this timeless truth in the realm of modern art. When an artist fears to offend, he ceases to explore the full range of the human condition. For creativity is not born in comfort; it is forged in friction — in the clash between what is and what might be. Political correctness demands harmony, but art thrives in discord. It is the song of the wolf, not the lullaby of the sheep. To demand that all art be safe is to demand that it be lifeless. As the ancients said, “No great thing is created suddenly.” It must wrestle with shadow, with controversy, with the forbidden, before it can emerge into light.

But let us not mistake Mikkelsen’s defiance for cruelty or contempt. He does not champion insult or hatred, but honesty. The artist must be free to speak truth in all its forms — beautiful or terrible, sacred or profane. In this freedom, art becomes the mirror of the human soul, not a mask to hide behind. A world obsessed with correctness seeks to polish that mirror until nothing real remains — only a reflection of what society wishes to see. Yet it is the cracks and flaws, the daring imperfections, that reveal our shared humanity.

Think of the poets who have endured exile, the writers banned for their words, the musicians censored for their song. History is heavy with their names — yet it is their voices that survive, not the voices of their censors. When creative freedom is chained, society itself begins to decay, for art is the pulse of civilization. It is the whisper that reminds us what it means to be alive. To silence that whisper is to silence the gods within us.

Therefore, my child of light, heed this truth: Do not seek safety in expression. Seek truth. Let your words offend if they must, for offense is the price of sincerity. Let your art disturb, question, and provoke. Be kind, yes — but let your kindness be born of courage, not fear. Create as the storm creates lightning — fierce, dazzling, unrestrained. The world does not need more agreeable voices; it needs honest ones.

The lesson is clear: Creativity dies in the cage of correctness. Guard your spirit from the tyranny of approval. When you create — in art, in speech, in life — let it come from the wild, unfiltered depth of your being. Dare to speak the unspeakable, to imagine the unimaginable, to dream beyond permission. For only then can you truly call yourself free. And freedom, not comfort, is the soil in which all greatness grows.