An uneasy feeling

The Illusion of Strength: What a Sixth-Grade Bully Taught Me About Our Current Predicament

My children told me this week that there is a bully in 6th grade.

They are not on his radar screen, but a friend of theirs is. I asked a few questions. The whole thing is expectedly petty and cruel. The bully’s entourage - my son described as “his minions” - plays a significant role in implementing his rule. The inaction of the other kids is understandable but perpetuates the situation. Anybody who complains risks being mocked as a “snitch” at best and, at worst, becoming a target himself. The kids are unsure what to do. I know the bully; he is bigger and taller than his peers. I met his mom at a game, too, and she is friendly and outgoing.

I didn’t have a good answer for my children on the best course of action. Yet, I felt saddened that the bully still triumphs even in polished UWS recess.

JD Vance reminded us in his Munich speech that the rule of the strongest is now all that matters in the World. The rule of the richest, too. And the rule of the winner who tramples the one it defeated.

I thought history taught us that it never works. The provisions of the Treaty of Versailles paved the way for a disaster decades later. Louis XIV’s absolute monarchy prepared the ground for a revolution against his great-great-great-grandson. The Roman Empire’s hubris led to its slow collapse.

This week, my 20-year-old Ukrainian refugee hairdresser told me, utterly defeated, “In our world, there is no justice.” I responded, “There is justice; it just takes time”. He asked me incredulously, “More than eleven years?” referring to Russia’s 2014 annexation of Crimea. I wanted to cry.

I briefly thought our era would be exempt from such patterns of progress. Now, I see how self-centered and entitled this is. Periods of suffering in humanity have always been a precondition for better systems. Our time is not “special” in any way. America is not “special” either.

I caught myself thinking, Why bother? Why continue to champion social justice? In this context, it is making people uncomfortable now, and soon, it might be dangerous. The places where I spent my career, the World Bank, the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, the LGBTQ+ organizations I volunteered for, and the ones I co-founded, are now ridiculed. They are described as “woke,” “wasteful,” and “weak,” their staff are “parasites,” “criminals,” and “enemies of the state.” Even words like “fairness,” “justice,” or “equality” are now associated with a cabal of the weak.

This narrative feels familiar, too.

I have heard much less radical voices—even progressive voices—share similar views, maybe in more polite ways. Recently, when I criticized elite capture, a friend wrote that it reflected “the vulnerability of my financial situation,” implying that if I had weaseled myself in a hedge fund, I would sing a different tune. In the circles I frequent, development, human rights, and LGBTQ+ equality were always deemed much less noble endeavors than finance, commerce, or tech. A man is to be judged by the money he accumulated. It is the accurate barometer of one's existence. Frankly, you start believing it when you stay in the U.S. for too long. I think that’s part of the problem.

Some gay people told me that arguing that LGBTQ+ people should have a fair share of the economy was ridiculous. While the concept of social justice was embraced by many, its complex implementation was often decried as a self-serving scam. These voices around me, now looking contrite at the amplitude of the backlash, are secretly vindicated.

The most challenging part is that, at times, their criticism was justified. I witnessed how some false DEI prophets only cared for their personal enrichment, and some LGBTQ+ groups became dictatorial during the Biden years. Once we got to power, progressives, too, were not immune to hubris.

Two visions of the world—one that values power, wealth, and dominance and the other that believes in collective responsibility, the possibility of a shared abundance, and cooperation—are colliding in plain sight, almost in a caricatural way.

The bully in 6th grade, with his “minions,” is a small reflection of this larger reality. Power is its own justification. I probably had no advice for my children because I felt powerless this week. But their playground story helped me understand the dynamics happening on the global stage. How we behave in the smallest of contexts reverberates in concentric circles to create the global reality.

I ironically found encouragement in the courageous letter of the Pope to Catholic Bishops:

“With charity and clarity we are all called to live in solidarity and fraternity, to build bridges that bring us ever closer together, to avoid walls of ignominy, and to learn to give our lives.”

His message reminded me that I must first continue to work on myself. Even in the worst of times, we can always work on our character, values, and behavior with those closest to us. That is the first act of resistance. I eventually told my children that if you cannot improve the situation, at least behave in ways that reflect your belief that the strongest should not rule.

Maybe they will ask me one day why I spent my life fighting for things so easily destroyed by a penstroke on an executive order instead of making money like everyone else. And perhaps I won’t have a good answer. But for now, I still want to believe: “The strongest rule, yes—but only if we let them.”