One only has to open the news and see a teacher suspended for enforcing long-standing rules, while public figures who openly lie, insult, or cheat are cheered, defended, and even rewarded with power. Something has shifted badly when discipline is called ‘oppression’ and shamelessness is rebranded as ‘courage’. I find this inversion not only disturbing but dangerous.
History tells me this is not entirely new. Societies have gone through seasons when moral compasses spin wildly—ancient Rome in its decline, revolutionary France during the Terror, even parts of the twentieth century when propaganda dressed cruelty as duty. What is different now is the speed and reach. In earlier times, ideas traveled by word of mouth or printed page; today, a lie can circle the globe before truth has finished tying its shoes.
I see the roots of this change in how authority and restraint have been caricatured as enemies of freedom. Rules, once understood as guardrails, are now treated as chains. Moral boundaries are mocked as backward, while excess is praised as self-expression. In this climate, right and wrong are no longer measured by consequences or conscience but by applause, clicks, and viral approval.
Technology has poured gasoline on this fire. Social media rewards outrage, not reflection; noise, not wisdom. The loudest voice often wins, not because it is correct, but because it is relentless. I watch young people absorb this lesson early: that visibility matters more than integrity, that being noticed is more important than being right.
Language itself has been bent to serve the confusion. Clear words like “truth,” “responsibility,” and “decency” are treated as suspicious, while vague slogans are elevated as moral shields. When words lose their weight, actions lose their anchors. What used to be plainly wrong can now hide behind clever phrasing and fashionable causes.
The cost of this reversal is highest on the young. I worry about children growing up unsure whether honesty is worth practicing when dishonesty seems more profitable. I worry about students learning that effort is optional, accountability negotiable, and offense is a convenient weapon. A generation raised in this fog may struggle to tell the difference between confidence and arrogance, compassion and indulgence.
This world also breeds exhaustion. When nothing is stable, people grow cynical. They stop believing in institutions, leaders, and even one another. I feel it myself at times—the temptation to shrug and say that standards no longer matter. But surrendering to that feeling is exactly how wrong completes its takeover.
At least to me, the way forward is neither shouting louder nor retreating into silence. It begins with quiet stubbornness: choosing truth even when it is unpopular, fairness even when it is inconvenient, and restraint even when excess is applauded. If enough of us live that way, especially in front of the young, the moral compass may yet steady itself—and point home again.
