I’ve recently come to a realization that’s made me think differently about what’s happening in our society. What I’ve always considered simply human – being kind to others, helping people in need, welcoming those who are different from me – has apparently become political. People call it “left-wing.”
This surprised me at first, because to me, these aren’t political positions – they’re just natural human instincts. When I see someone hurting, my first impulse is to help. When I meet people from different backgrounds or with different beliefs, my natural response is to want to understand their perspective. I do this not because of any ideology, but because it feels fundamentally human. It’s how I’d want others to treat me.
I had assumed this was universal – that beneath our differences, we all share these basic instincts for compassion and connection.
But what I’m seeing in 2025 is making me question my assumption.
There appears to be a different vision taking hold, one that seems to ask us to override these natural human impulses. It promotes ideas like “survival of the fittest” and “looking out for yourself first.”
We see it in powerful slogans like “America First” and “Make Britain Great Again” – phrases that capture people’s imagination but ultimately mean “everyone else last.”
Take immigration, for example. When I hear about people fleeing dangerous situations, my immediate reaction isn’t to think about borders or economics – it’s to want to help. These are human beings in trouble. Many are coming from countries that have been historically exploited by Western nations. How can we turn them away? It feels as natural as opening your door to a neighbor in need.
The Scientific Reality of Our Connection
These boundaries we’ve created – these borders and categories – they’re completely artificial. Science shows us this clearly: race isn’t a biological reality, it’s a social construction. When we look at human DNA, we find that we share 99.9% of our genetic makeup. The superficial differences we fight over – skin color, facial features, hair texture – represent tiny, insignificant variations in our genetic code.
A child going hungry in another country isn’t any less deserving of care than a child going hungry in our neighborhood. Their pain is just as real, their potential just as vast, their DNA just as human as our own. When we test their blood, measure their brain waves, or study their cellular structure, we find no biological basis for treating them differently.
These borders we treat as sacred are human inventions, often drawn by colonial powers with rulers on maps, splitting communities and cultures with arbitrary lines. Biologically, ecologically, the Earth knows no borders. Rivers flow where they will. Animals migrate across continents. The air we breathe circles the globe, carrying no passport.
The science of human biology, genetics, and evolution all tell us the same story: we are one species, one family, sharing one planet. Our differences are superficial, our commonalities profound. When we divide ourselves into “us” and “them,” we’re not following any natural law – we’re going against the scientific reality of our shared humanity.
Despite this, I see a mindset spreading that tells us we should fear other religions, build higher walls, and trust no one outside our group. That helping others somehow means we’re betraying our own. That making someone else’s life better somehow makes ours worse. That we can only succeed if others fail.
The Rise of Celebrated Cruelty
What troubles me lately is seeing how unkindness has become trendy, even celebrated. It’s as if being cruel has been rebranded as being “strong” or “realistic.”
We see it everywhere…
When Trump says “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and wouldn’t lose any voters,” he’s not just being controversial – he’s celebrating cruelty itself. When he calls immigrants “criminals and rapists” and claims they’re “poisoning the blood of our country,” he’s not making a policy argument – he’s dehumanizing entire groups of people. When he mocks disabled reporters or separates families at the border, he’s telling his followers that cruelty is not just acceptable – it’s admirable.
Yes, immigration policy is complex. There are legitimate discussions to be had about border security, immigration rates, and how to best manage population movement in an increasingly connected world. These are serious policy issues that deserve careful, thoughtful debate.
But that’s not what’s happening when leaders claim that immigrants are “poisoning our blood” or that they’re “all rapists and murderers.” This kind of language isn’t about policy – it’s about stirring up fear and hatred. It’s about making cruelty feel normal. It’s about teaching people to see other human beings as somehow less than human.
This rhetoric has real consequences. It doesn’t just change how we talk – it changes how we treat each other. It makes it easier to justify cruel policies. It makes it easier to look away when families are torn apart. It makes it easier to forget that we’re talking about real human beings, with hopes and dreams and families just like ours.
When Elon Musk tweets about “woke mind virus” and mocks pronouns, while laying off thousands of employees via email, he’s doing something particularly dangerous with his massive platform. This isn’t just a billionaire being insensitive – he’s using his influence to make cruelty seem clever, to make empathy seem foolish. When he celebrates mass layoffs on Twitter, he’s teaching his millions of followers that treating people as disposable is somehow admirable. That caring about the human impact of your actions is for the weak.
As we move into 2025, this pattern accelerates. More division. More nationalism. More walls between us. The wealthy are getting even bolder. They’re not even pretending to care about inequality anymore. “Let them eat cake” has become “Let them work harder.”
Redefining Strength and Masculinity
Another trend I’m becoming increasingly concerned about is the shift in how our society is beginning to view and describe masculinity.
And this is particularly prevalent in some of the world’s most powerful, influential, and richest men. The increasingly right-wing leadership and social media influencers are teaching young men that strength means dominance, that power means control over others, that success means winning at others’ expense. I see this toxic version of masculinity being promoted everywhere.
THis mindset and message has spawned an entire culture – what some call “Broligarchy” culture – that’s capturing young men’s minds.
On social media, in podcasts, in YouTube channels, they’re being fed what I believe to be a toxic message: that compassion makes you weak, that vulnerability makes you pathetic, that the only path to success is through “grinding” and “hustling” and stepping on others to get ahead.
These influencers take legitimate male concerns about purpose and success and twist them into something I believe to be dark. They’re selling the idea that real men don’t care about others, that empathy is unmanly, that treating others as competition rather than community is the path to fulfillment. They’re teaching young men to be ashamed of their natural capacity for kindness and connection.
What makes a man strong?
Well, I’m going to list what I believe it is not.
It’s not shouting “America First” or “Make Britain Great Again” like it’s something to be proud of.
It’s not being able to shoot someone on Fifth Avenue without losing followers.
It’s not acting like an “alpha male” and putting others down to make yourself feel big.
It’s not thinking you need to dominate women to be a real man.
It’s not believing that the strongest should win while the weak suffer.
It’s not making fun of people who show their feelings, mocking “snowflakes,” or trans people.
It’s not pretending that kindness makes you weak.
It’s not only caring about your own success while stepping on others to get ahead.
It’s not looking down on anyone who needs help.
It’s not hiding your feelings behind a tough-guy act.
It’s not using your strength to make others feel small.
To me, these aren’t signs of strength – they’re different forms of weakness trying to look strong. When I look at these attitudes, I don’t see strength. I see fear. Fear of vulnerability, fear of connection, fear of admitting that we all need help sometimes. It takes much more courage to be kind in a cruel world than to join in with the cruelty.
Real strength is something altogether different.
It’s in the father who isn’t afraid to cry with his children. It’s in the CEO who succeeds by lifting their entire team up, not by stepping on them to reach the top. It’s in the person who stands up against injustice even when it would be easier to stay silent. It’s in the husband who sees his wife as an equal partner, not someone to control. It’s in the friend who’s not afraid to be vulnerable, to admit when they’re struggling, to ask for help when they need it.
What I find most tragic about this “alpha male” mindset is that it promises strength but delivers isolation. It promises success but creates emptiness. It tells men to build walls when what they really need are bridges. These influencers are selling young men a blueprint for loneliness, teaching them to trade their humanity for a hollow imitation of power. They’re creating a generation of men who know how to dominate but not how to connect, who know how to compete but not how to care, who know how to win but not how to belong. They’re selling us a vision of the future that’s really just the past – where the strong dominate the weak, where helping others is seen as naive, where making others suffer is called “being realistic.”
But to me, true strength isn’t about standing above others – it’s about standing with them. It’s not about having power over people – it’s about having the power to lift people up. And most importantly, it’s about having the courage to remain kind in a world that often mistakes cruelty for strength.
Drill Baby Drill…The Holes In Our Own Boat
What I find most bewildering in this new direction, is how environmental protection has somehow become another target of the anti-“woke” crusade.
We’re watching basic concern for our planet’s survival being dismissed as liberal hysteria.
To me, this is like being on a boat and claiming that caring about holes in the hull is “political correctness gone mad.”
Like treating the law of gravity as a matter of personal belief.
Like suggesting that the need for clean water is just one possible perspective.
Like calling fire safety regulations in a building “liberal authoritarianism.”
Like suggesting that wearing a seatbelt is giving in to “fear culture.”
As far as I see it, when humans begin to label environmental protection as “woke,” we’re essentially arguing against our own survival.
Forget science. Forget ecology. Forget biology. Forget physics. Forget chemistry. Forget that our food depends on stable growing seasons. Forget that our cities depend on predictable weather patterns. Forget that our economies depend on functioning ecosystems. Forget that we live in an environment on which our survival is entirely dependent. Forget that we can’t breathe money or drink oil…
Forget that when we destroy our ecosystems, we destroy ourselves.
The right wing have somehow turned basic science and basic self-preservation into a political stance, one to be mocked as ‘woke’. The sheer absurdity of this would be laughable if it weren’t so dangerous.
So What Can We Do?
So what can we do in the face of this rising tide of division and hatred?
We can start by recognizing when our emotions are being manipulated. When headlines and social media try to turn our neighbors into enemies. When fear is being used to make us forget our common humanity. When outrage is being manufactured to keep us distracted from real issues.
We can resist the easy pull of hatred. Not because we’re saints, but because hatred corrodes us from the inside. It doesn’t make us stronger – it makes us easier to control. Easier to turn against each other while real problems go unsolved.
We can pause before joining the chorus of judgment. Before sharing that angry post. Before adding our voice to the growing storm of cruelty. We can ask ourselves: Is this making the world better or just making us feel temporarily powerful?
We can notice when we’re being pushed to see fellow humans as abstractions rather than people. When immigrants become “invasions,” when refugees become “threats,” when different viewpoints become “enemies of the people.”
Most importantly, we can remember that the loudest voices calling for division often have the most to gain from our disunity. That those who profit from our fear have every reason to keep us afraid. That those who benefit from our anger have every reason to keep us angry.
This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being aware. About catching ourselves when we start to fall into the trap of dehumanizing others. About choosing, again and again, to remember our shared humanity even when – especially when – we’re being urged to forget it.
Because the real strength of a society isn’t in its ability to hate together – it’s in its ability to hold together despite all the forces trying to pull it apart.
A Final Reflection
I believe we stand at a crossroads. One path leads toward more walls, more fear, more division – a world where we see each other as threats rather than as fellow humans sharing this brief moment in time. The other path leads toward connection, toward understanding, toward remembering what we share rather than what divides us.
Yes, there are real problems to solve. Yes, there are complex policies to debate. But beneath all that, there’s a simpler choice: whether to let fear pull us apart, or to remember that we’re all part of the same human story. Whether to build walls or bridges. Whether to turn away from each other or to remember that we’re all in this together.
I choose to believe that beneath the anger and fear and division, most of us want the same thing: to belong, to matter, to help create a world worth passing on to our children. I choose to believe that our shared humanity is stronger than the forces trying to pull us apart.
Because in the end, we’re all on this small blue planet together. We all breathe the same air, drink the same water, share the same fate. We can choose to face our challenges as opponents, or we can choose to face them as one human family.
The choice, as always, is ours.