I used to wonder how genocides like the Holocaust could ever happen. I used to ask what kind of world, and what kind of leaders, would allow such crimes to unfold. I looked at the Armenian genocide, the Holocaust, the Bengal famine of 1943, the Rwandan genocide, and felt anger toward the leaders of that time, and toward the people who knew, yet remained silent. These were not hidden crimes. They happened with the full knowledge of world leaders, institutions, and societies. I believed that such moral collapse belonged to the past.
Now I know better. I am living in that same world.
Today, I feel the same anger, pity, and frustration, but this time directed at our own leaders and ourselves. I see how mass killing, especially of civilians, is once again being tolerated, justified, and rationalized. I used to wonder how people could stay silent, or worse, defend the killing of innocent people. Now I see exactly how it happens. Every civilian death is filtered through ideology, religious, political, or otherwise. Compassion is conditional. Outrage is selective. Humanity is negotiable.
If the violence is carried out by a government we support, or a leader we voted for, we find ways to minimize it, explain it away, or justify it. We use familiar language: orders were followed, national security required it, this is the price of safety. These are not new arguments. They are recycled excuses. The same moral evasions that once enabled the worst crimes in history are alive and well today, only more polished and more confidently expressed.
What is most disturbing is not just that civilians are being killed in the twenty-first century, but that this is happening openly, on camera, in real time, with the full awareness of elected leaders, global media, and millions of ordinary people. And yet, the death of a civilian is no longer treated as a humanitarian failure. It is debated as a policy choice. It is weighed, defended, dismissed, or weaponized depending on which “side” one belongs to.
Even tragedies that should unite us in grief are pulled into political combat. The suffering of parents who lost children has been mocked, denied, or turned into talking points, for example, look at what happened with the Sandy Hook incident. Human loss has become ideological currency.
How did we reach this point? Why did we learn nothing from history? Why do political loyalties so easily override compassion, empathy, and basic human decency?
I don’t have clear answers. What I see instead is a frightening trend: our tolerance for innocent death has increased. We have become more articulate, more strategic, and more ruthless in justifying violence carried out in our name. We no longer even pretend to feel guilt or shame. There is no acknowledgment of wrongdoing, only aggressive defense and the vilification of anyone who dares to question it. Dissent is treated as betrayal. Objection is framed as disloyalty. Protests are labeled as mutiny.
It is moral decay, not strength. Every unnatural death has become political capital, used either to seize power or to protect it. This is not strength; it is moral decay. It is not strong leadership, but cruelty wrapped in political language and sold as a necessity. It is not national security when civilians pay the price; it is national shame. There is nothing great about justifying innocent deaths, nothing courageous about silencing dissent, and nothing patriotic about abandoning basic human conscience. What is presented as resolve is often cowardice, the fear of accountability disguised as power. A society that normalizes such violence does not become stronger; it becomes complicit.
This is not strong leadership. It is cruelty wrapped in political language, brutality justified by slogans, and violence laundered through ideology. Calling it national security does not make such violence honorable. Security that is built on the bodies of civilians is not security at all; it is a confession of failure. When the protection of the state requires the abandonment of humanity, what is being defended is not a nation, but power itself.
I once believed that the world would not repeat the worst mistakes of the past, that the mass killing of civilians under indifferent or brutal leadership was a lesson permanently learned. I was wrong. This world is fully capable of repeating the same horrors, with the same intensity, the same indifference, and the same justifications, and then moving on as if nothing happened.
That realization leaves me deeply saddened and profoundly disappointed. I still hold onto a fragile hope that somewhere, some country, some society will prove me wrong, not with words or statements, but with moral courage and actions. Until then, we are not better than the past we claim to condemn.
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
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