"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.
