Today is a day of solemn remembrance—of the struggles of the past, the struggles of the present, and the struggles yet to come. Over the centuries, we have made remarkable progress in reducing the most visible and legally sanctioned forms of hate. Yet we continue to struggle with its unwritten, informal, and often hidden forms. In some cases, these behaviors persist because the commitment to institutional purpose in some social circles has weakened.
Corrupt officers followed victims for years, while secret agreements were made behind closed doors in the courts to incentivize wrongdoing. What emerged was a form of religious—and in some cases ethnic—removal, driven by distorted worldviews and sustained through coordinated abuse of power. Such an act is deeply immoral and, by any reasonable standard, illegal. Some actors were caught in corrupted behaviors in other places and times and given sweetheart deals to keep the network protected. To see anything resembling this in modern times would be grotesque at the very least.
Today, then, is a moment to reflect on the civil and human rights struggles that have shaped our history, as well as those that may still persist in certain circumstances. When courts have a moral obligation to correct wrongdoing but instead choose to enable or protect coordinated mistreatment, we face a serious and unresolved problem. In those moments, the curtain is pulled back on intent. Good thing most courts try and support justice.
This is a personal perspective, not an absolute claim. One does not have to view these matters in black-and-white terms. If someone were to say, “No, you’re wrong—it’s the opposite,” One could acknowledge that as a possible perspective (We can just assign probability). Still, consider this framing: if 85 percent of officials are genuinely good people—showing up, serving their communities, helping one another, and acting with integrity—then they are much like the rest of us. But if the remaining 15 percent are able to evade accountability due to weak or nearly nonfunctional checks and balances, the consequences can be severe for institutional trust (You have to watch the trends and think of why they are where they are-high, low, the same.).
Perhaps it is unfair to say there are no checks and balances at all, but in some places they are so limited that they fail to function meaningfully. This is deeply troubling. In the case of the Clan, victims were targeted for years, while perpetrators believed it was acceptable to make secret “good old boy” deals to impose their religious and racial views on others (Financial and social benefits present). When exposed, the pattern is often to shift blame onto the victims and construct false narratives to shield wrongdoing—sometimes until it becomes clear that deception was intentional. Corruption and hate are often tightly intertwined.
There may be no simple solution for systems corrupted by this level of coordination, but we can still peacefully insist that officials do the right thing, honor their oaths, and stand for justice. These struggles are not over. This is not a matter of right versus left—it is foundational to who we are. Every person in this country has rights, and those rights cannot be discarded simply because some people are favored over others. That is neither fair, just, nor moral. We can stop it in our hometowns but if it becomes collectivized we have big issues (Let us learn from history).
It is also important to say this clearly: there are many good people doing the right thing. There are many organizations and officials committed to justice and accountability. Most public servants act with integrity. However, where checks and balances fail, the seeds of hate can take root, grow, and sustain themselves—despite complaints, evidence, and moral arguments. Public resources should not be used for hate or corruption.
The learning Story of the Clan also reminds us that whistleblowers were often silenced through secret lists and quiet retaliation, all in service of protecting long-standing corruption. Again, this does not reflect the majority—80, 85, even 99 percent of officials who are part of our enlightened communities. But when wrongdoing occurs and cannot be corrected, it signals something far darker. A path that we don't want to go down. There are other paths more helpful to everyone and to the long-term development of society.
So today, we remember the struggles of the past—and we remain vigilant about the struggles of today and ready the armor of our moral convictions for the challenges of the future. Vote your conscience the next time a judge, leader, politician, or official is up for election. Choose the best and brightest over the most connected, and favor those guided by integrity rather than social networks or distorted values. Honor what is good and reject what is bad. Be kind to each other and return hate with love and understanding but also with diligence. A single indivisible people.
*The Story of the Clan is a philsophical, theoretical, hypothetical thought experiment story designed to learn about hate and teach officials and people how to adapt to a higher moral conscious.
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