A collective examination of society, media, and justice in the face of power-protected crimes.
There are moments in history when civilization becomes afraid to look into its own mirror. Today, we stand at precisely that juncture. The scandals being exposed—videos, documents, and witnesses of which have become public—are not merely crimes, but orchestrated, protected, and state-backed attacks against humanity. The horror of these events is so profound that even words falter. Yet, society continues to consume them as “content”—with interest, thrill, and momentary disgust—and then move on to the next sensation.
This isn’t a new story. Every major scandal, every mass crime, has been followed by a similar sequence—first denial, then partial admission, then apology or resignation, and finally, the smug satisfaction of being “comparatively better.” As if justice were a comparative yardstick, where being less bad becomes proof of being good. But the real question lies deeper—where was the soul when the crimes were being committed? Does morality awaken only in front of cameras?
The most sinister aspect of these scandals is the power dynamic. When those in the highest positions—those whom society considers godlike—are found to be consorting with, protecting, benefiting from, or paving the way for perpetrators, the very foundations of democracy are shaken. This is not individual moral turpitude, but institutional crime. Because when crime receives the protection of the system, it ceases to be an exception—it becomes a system.
The media should have played a decisive role here. But it too often seems to be divided into two poles—sensationalism on one side, silence on the other. Sensationalism tramples on the dignity of victims, while silence gives perpetrators time and protection. Truth is stifled in the race for TRPs, clicks, and trends. The result is that the public receives emotional shocks, not facts, and shocks that never lead to lasting social action.
The state of law enforcement and investigative agencies is also far from reassuring. Slow investigations, jurisdictional complexities, political pressure, and endless procedures—all combine to create a well-organized machinery for delaying justice. It’s said that justice delayed is justice denied; this adage rings true here. Victims grow weary, witnesses become intimidated, and perpetrators grow more powerful with time.
The most uncomfortable question, however, concerns the general public. Are we truly paralyzed? Or have we been conditioned to be angry but unable to organize? Social media gives us a voice, but no direction. We post, share, abuse, and assume we’ve done our duty. The patience, vulnerability, and persistence to venture into the real world—these have become increasingly rare.
It’s also true that a deliberate strategy is employed to tire the public. A deluge of information, contradictory claims, fake news, and half-truths—all of which are used to create confusion —breeds inaction. A passive society is the safest environment for criminals.
In some countries, apologies are being offered, resignations are being presented, and these are being presented as significant achievements. But apologies only matter if they are accompanied by accountability—legal action, asset seizures, network exposure, and lasting institutional reform. Simply changing faces doesn’t change the system. Resignation isn’t justice; at best, it can be the beginning of it.
The most neglected aspect of this entire scenario is the victims. Their stories, their pain, and their rehabilitation—all are marginalized. Justice, however, isn’t just about punishment; it means rebuilding a victim’s life. Counselling, therapy, education, employment, and witness protection—all are as essential as court proceedings. Without them, justice will always remain incomplete.
So, what is the way out? Not revenge. A desire for violence makes us no different from the savages we hate. Civilization triumphs not through brutality, but through accountability. This requires society to unite on a few fundamental points.
First, independent and international investigations, because national agencies alone are insufficient for cross-border and regime-backed crimes. Second, full disclosure—public disclosure of names, positions, networks, and financial transactions. Third, legal reforms—special courts, timely trials, and strong witness protection laws. Fourth, responsible media that provides victim-cantered, factual, and consistent reporting. Fifth, civic solidarity—peaceful, organized, and sustained pressure. Because change comes not from a single post, but from continuity.
Ultimately, this is a battle of morality. Every society must decide at some point whether to choose convenience or truth. Convenience lulls us to sleep, while truth unsettles us—and history always moves forward through that unease. Cruelty be damned. But history will judge us by whether we squander our anger in momentary hatred or transform it into an organized force for change. Silence is no longer an option. Justice must prevail, albeit late, and justice that not only punishes the guilty but also secures the future.
This is the biggest demand of this time.
And this is our biggest responsibility too.
