Our Differences Don't Have to Divide Us

I can understand why people get surprised or shocked to meet people who are different from them. The difference can be of any type, different race, nationality, religion, gender, sexual orientation, beliefs, or political ideology. It is not easy to understand why people don't think like us, why they don't believe in the same set of values, don't support the same political party and leader, follow the same religion, or hate the same enemy. Humans have always lived with such differences; there was no single religion, language, or political ideology that everyone followed; there were always differences. These differences have led to many gruesome and barbaric massacres of humans by humans. Statistics may tell us that far more humans are killed by other humans than by natural calamities. After this phase of barbarism, we entered a process of learning to live with differences, which is how countries like the USA and many other progressive nations came to exist and prosper by welcoming people from different parts of the world who, along with their talent and hard work, brought their languages, cultures, and beliefs with them. However, I feel that we are again deviating from this path, where our differences are no longer mere differences; they are becoming the primary reason to divide us. How did we reach this point? Are we going back to an era where political and ideological opponents will be prosecuted simply because they think differently? 

I can offer some examples from my own life to demonstrate that it is possible not only to live peacefully but also to build something beautiful and lasting alongside people who think and believe differently from you. 

The first example is my wife, Reena, and me. We both come from different states in India and spoke different languages when we got married. We share a common language, Hindi, that connected us, but our primary languages were different: Bhojpuri for her and Marathi for me. At some point in my life, I was as religious, maybe not as religious as Reena is, but I did follow some Hindu rituals. But I gradually drifted away from religion and completely dissociated myself from traditional religious beliefs, but Reena is very religious and follows many rituals and practices that traditional Hinduism calls for. Does this result in any friction? Do we clash and argue over things we don't agree on because of our different beliefs? Do we each wonder how the other cannot see that they are wrong? Do you want each other to change certain beliefs so that we can avoid confrontational situations? Of course, we do. These things are unavoidable when differences exist. But none of this divides us to the point where we no longer want to live with each other or feel compelled to change the other into a version of ourselves. Rather, we support each other so that neither of us feels attacked or threatened when we are in a space where one person's beliefs dominate. More often than not, it is Reena who shields me from being drawn into religious rituals, and she is usually in the majority across most of our social circles. Our differences make us very different people, but at the same time, they have helped us understand and support each other. Our unity does not demand uniformity. We try our best to convince each other about our points of view, but we both know that there will be some topics where we are not going to agree, and that's okay. If we can do this, I wonder why a society or a nation cannot replicate the same understanding, regardless of the hate politics played by self-serving politicians.

The second example is about my parents and me. My parents come from a very conservative background. Their ideas about family, religion, caste, and tradition are rooted in their upbringing in the rural parts of the northern Indian state of Uttar Pradesh. I grew up surrounded by these conservative values, where gender bias and casteism were prevalent. My parents inherited these values from their surroundings, and I inherited more or less the same set of values from my surroundings. This is what normally happens: we all inherit our religious and cultural beliefs that ultimately shape our personal beliefs. But eventually, slowly, I grew out of them, mainly through reading, as my horizons broadened. As my thinking started to differ radically from theirs on many issues, which led to frequent arguments, some very heated, where our beliefs collided. There is discomfort and uneasiness during confrontational situations. But none of these arguments have weakened my relationship with them as my parents. I have not stopped challenging them when I believe they are wrong; at the same time, they have not stopped emphasizing the importance of tradition and religion to me. I know I may not be able to change all of their beliefs or make them see the world as I see it. I may carry the regret of never fully convincing them why gender bias is a terrible thing, but that is my regret to live with and my battle to fight. They have their own limitations that prevent them from changing, and I have my own limitations in persuading them. But none of this will make us hate each other. We argue over things; that does not mean we wish the other did not exist.

Different sets of values can coexist within the same marriage, family, society, or country. This is not difficult; rather, this is how we coexist and flourish. I thought this was obvious, and that most people understood it, but in recent years, this understanding seems to be fading. I hope people come to see that our differences make us who we are; they give us the opportunity to understand one another, and they should not make us enemies. Different colors make a rainbow, and a rainbow is as beautiful as each individual color within it; many would even argue it is more beautiful than any single color alone. Let's keep the conversations going and put animosity on pause. Unity is not about becoming like each other; unity is about standing together despite our differences and defending each other's rights even when we disagree. We have always been different; we don't have to be divided.

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic.

The Audacity to Fail

It is not easy to deal with failure, especially when you really tried hard for that thing and still didn't achieve the result you hoped for. Failure can be painful, discouraging, and deeply personal. But failing at something does not mean you are a failure. Failure is an event; it is not an identity. A failed attempt simply means that something did not work out this time. It says nothing final about a person’s worth, potential, or courage. In many cases, failure is not proof of weakness, but proof that someone dared to attempt something difficult, uncertain, and meaningful.

And often, the journey itself becomes as valuable as the destination, sometimes even more so. The process of striving teaches resilience, patience, humility, and self-knowledge. It reveals strengths you did not know you had and exposes limits you can learn to push beyond. Even when the final goal remains out of reach, the person who returns from that journey is rarely the same person who began it. That is the hidden reward of taking risks. The destination may bring achievement, but the journey brings growth. The destination may offer recognition, but the journey offers meaning. And in many cases, it is the journey that leaves the deeper mark on who we become. That is why some people have the audacity to fail. They have the courage and strength to try something where they know that the chances of failure are very high, but still, they go for it. Not because they want to fail, but because they want to test their limits, challenge themselves, and see how far effort, courage, and persistence can take them. 

We all know that luck also matters for success. Success is rarely shaped by effort alone. Hard work, preparation, and discipline matter deeply, but sometimes the final outcome also depends on timing, circumstance, and luck. However, luck cannot be the only factor. Luck cannot replace effort, but effort gives luck a chance to matter.  Once you have done everything within your control, the rest may depend on luck, and to give your luck a chance, you need to do everything that's within your limits. People with the audacity to fail understand this. They do not hold back simply because success is uncertain. They try fully, honestly, and courageously. They give everything they can, and in doing so, they leave no room for regret born from hesitation.

To have the audacity to fail is to accept that not every worthy attempt will end in success. But it is also to believe that trying wholeheartedly is never wasted. Even if the result is failure, there is dignity in knowing you showed up fully, took the chance, and left nothing behind. That is not failure in the deepest sense; that is courage.  

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic.

What Hate Politics Taught Me

The rise of cult politicians like Trump, Modi, and many others around the world has transformed the political landscape across many regions and countries. A new right-wing politics has emerged, one built entirely on hate and division. In reality, polarization, or divide and rule, has long been a familiar political trick used by politicians across parties to win elections. But these political cult leaders and their comrades have taken polarization to unprecedented levels. They not only managed to sharpen ideological differences but also divided people as if they were enemies of each other, separated by race, nationality, and political belief.

This phenomenon, no matter how harmful to our nations and societies, has taught me at least one important thing. It has shown me how many people around me, including friends and family, carry deep hatred toward people they have never even met. This hatred is not rooted in personal experience; it is driven purely by the religion, caste, or nationality of those they feel threatened by. Many hold a visceral hatred for Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Jews, other races, and people who simply look different, and they no longer feel the need to hide it.

What surprises me most is not the hatred itself, but how comfortably people carry it, how they live with that much rage and venom inside them, day after day, and call it normal. I often wonder whether this hatred is a newly formed perception, shaped by propaganda constantly fed to them from every direction, or whether it was always there, dormant, and simply resurfaced when it found a conducive environment, the way a latent virus reawakens.

In a strange way, all this polarization has been clarifying. While revealing the true character of many people around me, it reminded me how rare and precious love and kindness actually are.

Hostility toward my views is not new to me. I have faced it since I was very young, and I was still trying to navigate complex questions and doubts I had about many things happening around me. But the intensity of the attacks, and the visceral, personal hatred directed at anyone who dares to disagree, is something new. The moment you express an opinion, you are not only placed in a camp but branded with a label meant to ridicule rather than engage. There is no discussion, only attack. Questions are not asked; accusations are hurled, and judgments are passed. Shouting matches are passed off as debates. Facts no longer matter if they fail to confirm what you already believe. Everything that challenges your belief is fake; everything that validates it is unquestionable truth. This is the binary world manufactured by cult politicians and their followers.

Even in this polarized and charged environment, I feel genuinely lucky — lucky that what I carry inside me is not hate, but love, and enough of it to spread around. While so many choose to spew venom, I choose differently. And in times like these, that choice feels more important than ever.

I hope that no matter what you believe or which political party you support, you choose to spread love and not hatred. Because you can only give what you have, and if what you are spreading is hate, fear, and lies, that is what you are full of. Be brave. Choose love over hate. 

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic. 

When Your Brain Lies to You

Sometimes things are tough, and we are lost. We need help, but hesitate to ask because our brain tells us not to overshare with others, even with people whom we trust. Some things are addictive, and we know that they are addictive, but still we indulge in them and convince ourselves that we are not one of those addicted people. We think we are in control and can stop whenever we want, and continue indulging in such endeavors without acknowledging our addiction. These are just a few examples of when our brain lies to us, or to put it in simple terms, we trick ourselves into not doing things that we should be doing (asking for help) or keep on doing things that we know we should not be doing (addiction). Okay, so now we know that our brain lies to us. I would make one important distinction at this stage: our brain is not lying like an enemy; it is often protecting comfort, identity, control, or avoidance. The lie usually sounds reasonable because it reduces pain in the moment. The cost appears later.

Now, what to do about it? How can we fight with our brain and win? The brain lies most convincingly when it is trying to protect us from discomfort: shame, vulnerability, withdrawal, uncertainty, or change. Winning is not about fighting the brain with force; it is about noticing the story, testing it against reality, and taking one small honest action anyway.

Sometimes the brain calls silence “strength,” but silence is not always strength. Sometimes it is shame wearing a mask. Many people delay asking for help because of stigma, self-stigma, fear of judgment, or the belief that their problem is not “serious enough.” Research on help-seeking shows that stigma and social support are major factors in whether people seek mental health care. A recent study also found that mental health literacy can increase formal help-seeking intentions, while self-stigma partly gets in the way. Self-disclosure can reduce stigma and encourage earlier help-seeking, especially when people disclose to supportive peers, family members, teachers, or professionals.

As far as addiction of any kind, including social media addiction, is concerned, addiction does not always begin with losing control. Sometimes it begins with repeatedly telling yourself that control is still there. When people know something is harmful but continue doing it, the brain often tries to reduce the discomfort between “I know this is bad for me” and “I am still doing it.” The brain edits the story than face the contradiction. So it says, “This is not that bad,” “I deserve this,” “Everyone does it,” or “I will stop tomorrow.” A strong desire or a thought can feel true because the emotion behind it is loud. But loud is not the same as accurate. But it is hard to resist when your brain tries to convince you that what you are doing is not bad but a normal behavior that everyone around us is doing. 

Research on affect labeling, putting feelings into words, suggests that naming emotions can reduce distress and help emotion regulation. Studies found that labeling negative emotional experiences can lower self-reported distress compared with passively watching or experiencing them. Therefore, do not argue with the thought immediately. First, label it: “This is shame talking,” “This is craving talking,” “This is fear predicting the future,” or “This is my brain trying to avoid discomfort.” This creates distance between you and the thought. Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) uses a skill called cognitive defusion, which means learning to see thoughts as thoughts rather than commands, facts, or identity. ACT aims to increase psychological flexibility: the ability to act according to values even when distressing thoughts or urges are present. Do not fight every thought; at the same time, stop obeying every thought. Instead of “I am weak,” say: “I am having the thought that I am weak.” Instead of “I need this,” say: “My brain is producing an urge.” This small language shift helps separate the person from the mental event.

One of the practical, research-backed strategies is “if-then planning,” also called implementation intentions. The idea is to decide in advance: If situation X happens, then I will do Y. This is a self-regulation strategy that helps close the gap between intention and behavior. For example. If I feel the urge to use/scroll/drink/eat/buy, then I will wait ten minutes and text one person first. If I feel ashamed to ask for help, then I will send one prepared sentence: “I am not okay, and I need someone to listen.” If my brain says “tomorrow,” then I will do one small action today.

One can also use a five-step framework to deal with such situations. First, catch the sentence. Ask what exactly my brain is telling me right now? Second, name the pattern. Is it shame, fear, craving, denial, avoidance, rationalization, or all-or-nothing thinking? Third, test it against the evidence. Ask: What facts support this thought? What facts challenge it? What would I say to a friend who had this same thought? Has this thought helped me before, or has it kept me stuck? Fourth, take value-based action. Do not wait until the brain agrees. Take a small action aligned with the person you want to be. Finally, and most importantly, bring in another brain. When your own brain is stuck in a loop, another person can help you reality-check it.

It is important to understand that not every thought deserves trust. Some thoughts are signals, some are fears, some are cravings, and some are old survival strategies that no longer serve us. When the brain says, “Do not ask for help,” it may be trying to protect us from shame. When it says, “You can stop anytime,” it may be protecting our identity as someone who is still in control. But protection is not always truth. Sometimes the most dangerous lies are not the dramatic ones; they are the quiet, reasonable-sounding ones that keep us exactly where we are. You do not win by never hearing the lie again. You win when you hear it, recognize it, and choose the truth anyway.

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic. 

The Significance of The US Citizenship Oath

Many times, people ask me why I waited so long after becoming eligible to apply for U.S. Citizenship. My answer is simple: I wasn’t ready to take the Oath of Allegiance.

To some, that might sound strange. “It’s just a formality,” people say. “You can love more than one country.” But for me, the oath isn’t a checkbox on a form. It is a profound commitment, both moral and legal, that deserves deep reflection.

First, from a legal standpoint, India does not allow dual citizenship, which I don't understand, as many countries, including the US, allow this. Once you become a U.S. citizen, you cease to be an Indian citizen, as India requires you to renounce your Indian citizenship. Second, the U.S. Oath of Allegiance leaves no room for ambiguity; it explicitly requires you to “absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign state.”

Here’s the oath in full, as reproduced from the USCIS website:

“I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty, of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.”

To me, these words carry weight. They symbolize not just acceptance of a new citizenship, but the transfer of one’s allegiance, heart, and duty to a new nation, voluntarily, consciously, and solemnly.

My upbringing and culture taught me the sacredness of loyalty. The Mahabharata, one of the greatest epics ever written, I grew up listening to its stories, reminds us that once we pledge our allegiance, we remain steadfast to it. That is what integrity means. That is what I wanted to bring to my new identity, not a half-hearted allegiance, but a wholehearted commitment.

Being a permanent resident gave me most of the privileges needed to live, work, and thrive in this country. But citizenship is something deeper. It isn’t just about benefits or convenience, it’s about belonging, about choosing this country as your own, about accepting both its rights and its responsibilities.

The day I stood to take the oath, I did so with complete awareness of what I was promising. I was not just becoming a U.S. citizen; I was renouncing the past allegiance that shaped me and embracing a new one that I had consciously chosen. It was both emotional and empowering, a moment of gratitude and solemn pride.

I hope more people understand the gravity of this oath. It is not a procedural step or a legal formality. It is a personal promise to support, defend, and remain loyal to the country that gave us opportunity, trust, and a new home.

For every naturalized citizen, that promise is deeply personal. It marks not the end of a journey, but the beginning of a lifelong relationship between us and the United States of America, the nation we now proudly call our own.

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic. 

© Vinay Thakur, All rights reserved. Vinay can be reached at thevinay2022@gmail.com 

The Heroes We Choose, the Society We Become

"Show me the heroes that the youth of your country look up to, and I will tell you the future of your country." Idowu Koyenikan

When our idols are politicians who lie without consequence and remorse, celebrities and influencers who propagate curated illusions, and athletes whose expertise rarely extends beyond their sport, rather than teachers, scientists, and thinkers who demonstrate independent judgment and moral courage and work for the betterment of society in general, we reveal the kind of society we are becoming. Our heroes are reflections of our values and aspirations. They do not create us; we create them.

I am struck by how often people speak of celebrity CEOs, Elon Musk among them, as singular geniuses responsible for breakthroughs that were in fact achieved by teams of hard-working scientists, engineers, and workers. The same pattern appears in politics. Certain leaders cultivate a cult-like status, eager to claim credit for every success but quick to deflect blame, deny responsibility, or rewrite events when serious mistakes occur. We elevate one figure as a messiah and ignore the collective intelligence, discipline, and integrity that is the actual driving force for any achievement. At the same time, it has become a common sight to see supporters defend politicians who reject even the most basic accountability. In today's world, loyalty matters more than truth.

And then we wonder from where children are learning hate and bias; why they hesitate to speak truth, why they are not honest, why they don't admit mistakes, or take responsibility for their actions? What example are we setting for them?

If we celebrate power over principle and charisma over character, we should not be surprised by the culture that follows. The standards we normalize today become the character of our society tomorrow.

That is why it is so telling that Virginia lawmakers recently passed a bill requiring that, if schools teach students about the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol, they teach what happened as fact, without presenting false claims that the 2020 election was stolen or that the attack was merely a peaceful protest. The fact that legislation is now needed simply to protect basic factual instruction in schools says something deeply unsettling about where we are as a society. Misinformation spread by politicians, partisan media, and self-styled influencers has become so normalized that much of the public consumes it uncritically, with little concern for the consequences.

The Epstein case exposes another related moral failure. This case is not only about the depravity of one man. It is also about the tolerance, cowardice, and convenience of many others around him. Some powerful people were associated with a convicted sex offender, visited his homes, socialized with him, and benefited from his access and proximity, knowing very well his conviction as a child molester. That reality should trouble any serious society. I agree that association alone is not proof of criminal guilt, and public records are not the same thing as proven complicity. I am not implying that everyone named in the released Epstein materials is guilty or knew the full extent of his crimes. Still, the broader pattern remains disturbing. Again and again, wealth, power, and status seem to purchase justice and immunity where ordinary people would face immediate condemnation and serious consequences. Even though these examples are from the USA, this pattern is observed all over the world, including countries like India and Pakistan.

What is most revealing is not only the wrongdoings themselves in such outrageous cases, but the selective outrage that follows. If the accused belongs to “our side,” many people rationalize, minimize, and deflect. Principles suddenly become negotiable when loyalty, status, or political advantage is at stake. A society that cannot hold the powerful accountable, regardless of ideology, influence, or social rank, is a society that has surrendered its moral spine. We say we value justice, integrity, and the protection of the vulnerable. But when those values demand courage, consistency, and inconvenience, too often we bow down to power and influence. The rich and powerful go scot-free for the most vulgar crimes, but the poor and weak languish in jails for the most trivial offenses or no offense at all. 

Moral decay rarely manifests dramatically. More often, it arrives quietly: when we excuse what we would otherwise condemn, when we look away because the truth is uncomfortable, when influence matters more than innocence, when we debate rather than take action, and when we stand divided rather than act together.

The scandals, like the Epstein scandal, are horrific. But our willingness to soften our judgment for the well-connected, to fragment outrage according to politics or personal interest, and to suspend moral standards when they become inconvenient, are signs of deep moral decay. If we cannot demand accountability consistently and without fear, then the problem is no longer merely criminal. It is cultural. And that should trouble all of us.

Imagine, for a moment, how a society like ours might respond if evidence of some of history’s most monstrous crimes against humanity first surfaced today.

Would the horror unite us? Or would we fracture instantly along ideological lines? I fear the latter.

It is not difficult to imagine the response. Some commentators would minimize the scale. Some influencers would turn clear evil into moral gray zones. Partisan voices would look first for political advantage, not truth or accountability. Some would go so far as to justify the loss of innocent lives as a necessary evil, simply because those suffering did not belong to their own race, religion, or nation. Others would insist that certain individuals should be spared judgment because they were “otherwise decent people,” or because association supposedly proves nothing, even where the cruelty was systemic and impossible not to see.

That possibility is disturbing precisely because it does not feel far-fetched. We already see this pattern whenever powerful people are implicated in serious wrongdoing. Our outrage is filtered through identity and ideology. Too often, the first question is not, “Is this true?” or “Was this wrong?” It is, “Whose side are they on?” And the reactions are based on whose side the perpetrators are from. That is the deeper problem.

The true test of a society is not how loudly it condemns evil when condemnation is easy or politically useful. It is whether it can stand together against cruelty, exploitation, and crimes against humanity, regardless of who commits them, who benefits from them, or who is embarrassed by the truth. When a civilian is shot by law enforcement for protesting against brutality, it is not the time to look for political convenience; it is time to demand accountability and justice.  

When we cannot do that, we are not as morally evolved as we claim to be. We are merely comfortable. And comfort has always been one of injustice’s most reliable allies. History’s greatest tragedies did not happen because evil persuaded everyone. They happened because too many people rationalized, minimized, deferred, or remained selectively silent. If we cannot develop the courage to confront injustice consistently, irrespective of ideology, influence, or identity, then we are not nearly as immune to the repetition of tragic crimes from history as we like to believe.

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic.

Public Intellectual Masturbation

What does “intellectual masturbation” mean?

The phrase is vulgar, deliberately so. But sometimes a vulgar phrase is the only way to describe a vulgar habit.

Masturbation, in the ordinary sense, is a private act done for personal pleasure. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. It is private, self-contained, and largely harmless. But when a private act becomes a public performance, the reaction changes. What was once merely self-indulgent becomes embarrassing, grotesque, even offensive.

That is the metaphor I have in mind when I talk about public intellectual masturbation.

By it, I mean the performance of intelligence for vanity, power, and self-gratification rather than for truth, justice, or understanding. It happens when someone uses rhetorical skill, education, irony, technical language, or debating talent to defend what is plainly cruel, degrading, or indefensible. The point is not inquiry. The point is display. Not illumination, but exhibition. This is not the same as disagreement, or a serious debate, or as taking an unpopular position in good faith.

A healthy society needs free expression and constructive arguments. It needs people to test assumptions, challenge popular opinion, question sentimentality, and expose lazy thinking. It needs devil’s advocates at times. It needs people willing to ask difficult questions and present uncomfortable facts. But there is a difference between complexity and corruption, between argument and performance, between intellectual honesty and moral exhibitionism, and this difference matters.

When someone argues over tax policy, constitutional interpretation, migration levels, welfare design, or the limits of state power, they may be right or wrong, but they are at least operating within the normal field of political and moral disagreement. The same is true when people debate difficult ethical questions, legal doctrines, or wartime strategy in good faith.

But something else is happening when a person uses intelligence to sneer at victims of sexual violence, rationalize the killing of civilians, sanitize state brutality, or dress naked cruelty in the language of realism, order, civilization, deterrence, tradition, or law. At that point, what is being displayed is not intellectual courage or rigor. It is the public display of pleasure in cleverness detached from conscience.

Some people plainly enjoy showing that they can argue for anything. They enjoy demonstrating that no crime is too ugly to be reframed, and no victim too broken to be discredited. Their satisfaction comes from the performance itself: from sounding sharper than everyone else, colder than everyone else, more “rational” than everyone else. They mistake moral numbness for sophistication and verbal dexterity for depth, and in many cases, they are rewarded for it. News panels invite them because outrage drives attention. Social media promotes them because cruelty and contrarianism travel faster than nuanced kindness. Documentaries and public discussions feature them because every issue is now expected to have “two sides,” even when one side is simply manufacturing legitimacy for the sake of argument. Power welcomes them because every regime, institution, and ideological machine needs people who can make violence sound necessary, inequality sound natural, and abuse sound misunderstood. Propaganda needs to sound legitimate, and these intellectuals provide that channel.

This is why the phenomenon feels increasingly visible. The public sphere no longer merely tolerates these performances; it often incentivizes them. The person defending the indefensible is rarely doing so in a vacuum. There is almost always an audience, a platform, and a reward structure. Airtime, attention, notoriety, invitations, patronage, access, influence, online fame, the approval of ideological tribes, the favor of the powerful: these are all forms of compensation. Some do it for money. Some for proximity to power. Some for relevance. Some for the thrill of being seen as fearless thinkers. And some, perhaps most disturbingly, do it for the private pleasure of domination disguised as public reasoning.

This is why I call it masturbation rather than argument or debate.

The act is self-serving. What matters is the performer’s own gratification: the delight of saying what others recoil from, the thrill of demonstrating superior detachment, the ego-stroking satisfaction of turning intellect into spectacle. 

You can see it when sexual violence becomes an occasion for “nuance” that somehow always lands against the victim. You can see it when mass death is translated into abstractions about strategy and inevitability. You can see it when human suffering is treated not as suffering, but as raw material for someone’s career in contrarian posturing. You can see it when the language of reason is used not to reduce harm, but to anesthetize the conscience. It imitates seriousness. It uses the vocabulary of philosophy, law, history, realism, skepticism, and free inquiry. It presents itself as brave truth-telling against emotional mobs. But in reality, it is often little more than vanity wearing academic clothing.

That is what makes it vulgar and dangerous.

People assume that intelligence makes a person more trustworthy, more humane, or more responsible. But intellect by itself guarantees none of these things. Intelligence can clarify, but it can also obscure. It can liberate, but it can also rationalize domination. It can expose lies, but it can just as easily become a highly sophisticated instrument for producing them. The clever person is often more capable of justifying evil than the stupid one. The stupid person may simply repeat a slogan. The clever person can build an architecture around it and convert it into effective propaganda. 

That is why public intellectual masturbation deserves contempt, not admiration.

Not because the argument itself is bad. Not because difficult questions should be banned. Not because every controversial position is morally corrupt. But because there are moments when the issue is not complex at all. The issue is whether a person has decided to turn intelligence into a tool of degradation.

When that happens, we should stop pretending we are watching a brave debate. Often, we are watching moral cowardice disguised as sophistication. Often, we are watching someone derive personal pleasure from defending the indefensible. A society that confuses this with seriousness will eventually lose its ability to distinguish intelligence from wisdom, argument from manipulation, and analysis from cruelty.

Public intellectual masturbation does not merely insult the victims whose suffering it trivializes. It also degrades public thought itself. It turns discourse into spectacle, and intellect into a grotesque performance for applause, access, and self-satisfaction. Remember, some things are not made better by being argued more cleverly; they are merely made uglier.   

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic. 

The Way Hate Politics Works

Hate politics is on the rise across the world. To illustrate this disturbing trend, I often point to two large democracies, India and the United States, where political polarization is not accidental but carefully manufactured. Political parties and leaders actively cultivate division because fear and resentment are easier to mobilize than reason, empathy, or long-term vision.

What amazes me most is how easily people fall for this blatantly misleading rhetoric, especially in an era where information is readily available and facts can be verified within seconds. Yet, truth has become secondary to emotion. Hate-driven narratives are repeated so often and so loudly that many stop questioning them altogether.

One striking pattern I have consistently observed is this: people who subscribe to hate politics almost always hate groups of people they do not personally know. Ask someone who claims to hate Muslims whether they have a Muslim friend, and more often than not, the response will be, “Yes, but they are different; they are not like the others.” Ask a racist white person about a Black or Hispanic friend, and you will hear the same justification. Ask someone who harbors antisemitic views about a Jewish acquaintance, and suddenly that individual becomes an “exception.”

This pattern exposes the fundamental dishonesty of hate. People instinctively recognize the humanity, complexity, and decency of individuals they personally know, yet they willingly dehumanize millions of others they have never met. Entire communities are reduced to caricatures, stereotypes, or worst-case examples, while personal acquaintances are conveniently excluded from that same judgment. This is not logic; it is prejudice dressed up as reasoning.

The truth is simple and uncomfortable: no society, religion, country, or identity group is monolithic. There is no such thing as a uniform culture or a homogeneous community. Every group, without exception, contains a wide spectrum of people: kind and cruel, ethical and corrupt, generous and selfish. To take the worst examples from any group and apply them universally is intellectual laziness at best and moral failure at worst.

Diversity is not a threat to any society; it is the very fabric that makes societies resilient, creative, and humane. Differences in belief, culture, language, and identity are not weaknesses to be feared but strengths to be protected and celebrated. A society that demands uniformity eventually suffocates itself, while one that embraces diversity learns, adapts, and grows.

Politicians understand the power of hate all too well. They know it is a potent weapon, one that can be deployed quickly for short-term political gains. Winning elections “at any cost” has become so normalized that the cost itself - social trust, communal harmony, and even human lives - is treated as collateral damage. Politicians behaving like vultures is nothing new, and frankly, it does not surprise me anymore. What truly troubles me are the people who enable and amplify this kind of politics. Ordinary individuals become foot soldiers for hate, repeating slogans, justifying cruelty, and defending leaders who thrive on division. I do not say this from a place of moral superiority; I was once guilty of this myself during a highly ignorant phase of my teenage years. But learning, unlearning, and growing out of hate is possible. I know this because I have lived it.

Unfortunately, many do not stop at passive support. They actively empower hate-mongering leaders and help create a volatile, hostile environment for anyone who refuses to conform to the dominant narrative. This is how democracies erode, not overnight, but gradually, as empathy is replaced with suspicion and disagreement is treated as betrayal.

Hate is a slow poison or wildfire; it does not discriminate, and it does not stop at its intended targets. It corrodes everything it touches, including those who propagate it. History has shown us this lesson repeatedly. We have seen where unchecked hate leads, and we have paid a horrifying price in the past, including during the two World Wars. One would hope that humanity has learned something from those tragedies. If not, we risk repeating them yet again. 

Despite this bleak reality, I remain an optimist. I sincerely hope that those participating in hate-driven movements will eventually recognize the futility and danger of their actions. My hope is simple: that people will begin to see how hate operates, how it manipulates fear, and how it destroys trust, compassion, and love, the very foundations on which societies are built. When that realization comes, perhaps we will finally choose leaders who unite rather than divide, and values that heal rather than harm.

Until then, the responsibility lies with each of us to resist hate, question narratives, and protect the diversity that makes us human.

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic.

Democracy Cannot Be Installed; It Has to Be Instilled

There is a persistent belief, especially in parts of the developed world, that societies living under dictatorship, instability, or conflict can be repaired simply by removing rulers and replacing political systems. This belief treats democracy as a technical solution, something that can be installed like software after a faulty program has been deleted. But countries are not machines, and societies are not code that could be fixed instantly. They cannot be reset, reprogrammed, and expected to function according to imported values overnight.

Democracy is not merely a structure of elections, constitutions, and institutions. It is also a habit of mind, a public culture, and a shared understanding of power, restraint, and responsibility. Institutions can be designed from above. Laws can be drafted quickly. Elections can be organized. But a democratic as well as scientific temperament cannot be manufactured in the same way. It has to take root within a society, shaped by its own history, its own struggles, and its own moral imagination. Only then does it become durable.

History offers many examples of outside powers removing oppressive regimes and helping establish governments modeled on democratic ideals. In many cases, these efforts were defended in the language of liberation and progress. Yet the outcomes were often fragile, uneven, or disastrous. This was not necessarily because people rejected freedom, representation, or accountability as values, or because they prefer dictatorship over democracy. More often, they rejected the experience of having political change forced upon them in ways that felt humiliating, violent, or foreign to their own social reality.

That distinction matters a lot.

People rarely embrace dignity when they are first made to feel powerless. They rarely develop trust through coercion that strips their basic dignity. They rarely care about a rescuer who claims to remove them from the shackles of a brutal dictator when their own children are murdered by the rescuer. And they do not easily claim ownership over institutions introduced under occupation, intimidation, or condescension. Even admirable principles lose credibility when they arrive tied to violence and domination. When freedom is presented through force, it can cease to feel like freedom and begin to resemble another form of control. When freedom is not earned, it is often not respected. 

Democracy, by its nature, depends on trust, voluntary participation, restraint, and the belief that disagreement can be negotiated without destroying the social fabric. These are not instincts that can be imposed by decree. They are cultivated slowly, often through painful internal struggle. They emerge through argument, civic learning, collective memory, and the gradual development of institutions that people come to see as their own. Without that deeper foundation, democracy may survive on paper while remaining hollow in practice. Trust in institutions can not be demanded; it has to be earned through consistency and accountability.

This is why attempts at “installing democracy” often fail. A country may adopt the outer appearance of democracy while lacking the inner conditions that allow it to endure. Elections may be held, constitutions may be written, and offices may be filled, yet legitimacy may remain weak, participation shallow and forced, and public trust absent. In such circumstances, democratic forms exist, but democratic life does not.

A more effective approach begins from within and with humility and cooperation. Rather than attempting to engineer political outcomes from outside, external actors should focus on creating conditions in which democratic aspirations can develop from within. That means supporting education, independent media, civil society, rule-of-law institutions, and spaces where citizens can organize, question authority, and demand accountability in their own voice. Such support is slower, less dramatic, and far less flattering to those who seek quick geopolitical victories. But it is also more respectful of how societies actually change and sustain that change.

This does not mean the outside world has no role at all. There are circumstances in which intervention may be necessary to prevent mass atrocities, limit catastrophic violence, or protect basic human life. But that is different from asserting a right to redesign another society for strategic, ideological, or economic ends. Preventing slaughter is not the same as manufacturing legitimacy. Saving lives is not the same as creating a democratic culture.

It is also important not to confuse economic development with democratic maturity. Wealth, infrastructure, and foreign investment can coexist very comfortably with repression. Markets can expand while freedoms contract. Prosperity may strengthen a society in certain ways, but it does not automatically produce civic courage, institutional trust, or respect for dissent. Democracy is sustained not by economic growth alone, but by citizens who are willing to defend rights, accept pluralism, and hold power accountable even when doing so is inconvenient or costly.

In the end, democracy cannot simply be delivered and installed in a country. It has to be claimed, practiced, and protected by people. It grows through participation, sacrifice, memory, and trust. It is not secured because it is announced, nor because it is written into law, nor because powerful nations declare it desirable. It endures only when it becomes part of a society’s inner life. That is why democracy cannot be installed. It has to be instilled.

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic. 

Why to Volunteer

When I first came to the United States, one of the things that left a deep impression on me was the culture of volunteering. It is woven into everyday life here; schools, universities, nonprofits, community groups, and even workplaces actively encourage people to give their time and skills for the larger good. This is not to say that people in India do not volunteer; they certainly do, often informally and quietly. But in the U.S., volunteering is more visible, more organized, and more consciously recognized as a vital pillar of a healthy society.

Since then, I have tried to be part of this culture in my own way, engaging in volunteering activities whenever possible. One such effort is my involvement in mentoring underprivileged students in India through FEA (Freedom Employability Academy). During these mentoring sessions, students often ask me a very honest question: What motivates you to do this? The sessions take time, require effort, offer no monetary compensation, and are often scheduled at inconvenient hours due to time zone differences. From a purely transactional perspective, it may not make much sense.

My answer is simple: volunteering is not a transaction; it is a contribution. A vibrant and humane society is one where people contribute according to their abilities and strengths, ensuring that others benefit, not because they must, but because they can. Not everything of value can or should be measured in money. Time, attention, experience, empathy, and guidance are resources too, and often far more transformative than financial aid alone.

Volunteering creates a quiet but powerful chain reaction. Someone who receives guidance today may become a mentor tomorrow. A little support at the right time can change the trajectory of a life. For me, mentoring is also a reminder of my own privileges, access to education, opportunities, and mentors, and volunteering becomes a way to acknowledge that gratitude in action, not just in words.

The culture of volunteering in the U.S. reinforces an important idea: societies thrive not only on individual success, but on shared responsibility. When people step forward without expecting financial returns, they strengthen the social fabric, build trust, and create opportunities where none existed before. That, to me, is reason enough to volunteer and to continue doing so, regardless of inconvenience or compensation. 

Volunteering often begins with hesitation, questions about time, ability, or whether our small effort will really matter. But the truth is, you don’t need perfect conditions or grand gestures to make a difference. Start where you are, with what you know, and give what you can. The return may not come in the form of money or recognition, but in perspective, connection, and a quiet sense of purpose that stays with you long after. If you are on the fence, take that first step anyway; you may discover that in giving a little of yourself, you gain far more than you ever expected. Happy volunteering!

Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic.