“Law never made men a whit more just; and, by means of their respect for it, even the well-disposed are daily made the agents of injustice.” — Henry David Thoreau

There are moments when the moral foundation of our society begins to shift noticeably. Not suddenly—not through one major event—but in a steady, numbing motion. A slide. Not suddenly, but insidiously, we lose our moral footing, until we reach a point where we still function, but no longer become indignant. Where we still feel everything, but no longer do anything.

Thoreau already pointed out to us: those who merely submit to the law, to what is customary or “regulated,” unwittingly become instruments of injustice. And today we see this mechanism in full operation. Injustice is legitimized through rules, laws, economic interests, and abstract arguments about “employment” or “necessary growth.” But increasingly, the question arises: at what cost, and whose?

The silent killer is called habit.

Yesterday, I saw images from Gaza—children, rubble, broken lives. Today I read in the newspaper that toxic steel slag is being spread across our soil again, to spare a steel company. We know that PFAS is nesting in our food chain, that the water in the Netherlands is among the worst in Europe, that our air is full of filth. And yet we carry on. We nod. We shrug. We must keep going.

That’s the slide. Not because people are evil, but because they’re tired. Because they’ve learned to subordinate their sense of justice to their sense of powerlessness. Because they want to protect themselves from the excess of disasters and moral impulses. Today Gaza, tomorrow Tata, the day after something else. Each new violation pushes the previous one out of the picture—and with it, our outrage.

We are becoming morally numb because we have sacrificed our own moral compass to our comfort.

What remains of you if you neglect your moral core?

Anyone who remains silent in the face of injustice for a long time doesn’t just change their behavior—they change from within. Moral erosion begins with rationalizing your passivity: “I can’t do anything about it anyway.” But that phrase is the beginning of self-betrayal. If you know what injustice is, and you allow it, something within you becomes corroded. The very root of your moral being—that which connects you to your sense of right and wrong—begins to rot.

And that’s not just a philosophical problem. It’s a societal risk. For if too many people become morally numb, there comes a point when society as a whole no longer knows what injustice is. Then, not only legal but also moral lawlessness reigns. Not through chaos, but through conformity.

What are jobs if you’re no longer healthy?

This question is anything but rhetorical. It touches the core of our value system. When work, growth, or profit are used as arguments for pollution, exploitation, or the destruction of lives, we must acknowledge: we have a crisis of values. And anyone who hides behind rules, economic logic, or policy considerations is choosing conservation of what they have over justice.

We have become a country where the government stands by—or actively participates—while human rights are violated, while ecosystems collapse, while citizens are forced to drift along on the waves of political cowardice and economic interests.

And then you wonder: If so few people take action and we’re still breathing, what difference does it make?

That question is dangerously honest. For it is the gateway to cynicism. And cynicism is precisely what those who, with their influence and vested interests, determine the course of our supposed representative body count on.

Resistance begins with feeling.

But this—putting what is wrong into words—is already a form of resistance. Refusing to participate in the collective numbness. Recognizing the slide, naming it, and resisting it. That’s the first step.

Resistance doesn’t begin with a megaphone, but with returning to your moral core. With rediscovering your inner boundaries. With acknowledging that it’s not normal for profit to trump health. For wars to be called “complex issues” while children are dying. For climate change to be dismissed as “for later,” while the foundations of our lives are already crumbling.

The question is not only what kind of world we leave behind, but also: what kind of people do we want to be while living in it?

Govert van Ginkel

This article is written by Govert van Ginkel. Govert specializes in Nonviolent and Effective Communication and is active in this field as a trainer, speaker, coach, and mediator. More information about Govert can be found here. The current training offer can be found here