Apologetics in the Lion City

The Machine of Injustice

“The movements that claim to fight injustice have become the most efficient machines of injustice.”

That sentence may sound outrageous, but look closely and you’ll see the paradox. What began as vigilance against oppression has mutated into fear, performance, tribalism, and punishment. Principles meant to protect the vulnerable—like harm avoidance, solidarity, and urgency—have been cut loose from universal truths. And once divorced from universals, they collapse into contradictions, leaving justice unstable and self‑defeating.

The culprit is relativism. By denying that universal principles exist, relativism leaves noble impulses unanchored. Together, these distortions form what has come to be called woke culture—a cultural pattern where good intentions unravel into fear, division, and performance. To recover justice, we must not abandon these impulses but re‑ground them in universals—and ultimately in something greater than ourselves.

When Protection Becomes Fear

The impulse to protect others from harm is noble. It reflects compassion and vigilance. But when harm is defined so broadly that even disagreement or discomfort counts as violence, dialogue itself becomes unsafe.

This distortion is subtle but devastating. Instead of protecting against real injury, the principle shifts to shielding against emotional discomfort. The result is a culture of fear, where people hesitate to speak honestly, worried that words themselves will be treated as weapons. The very conversations needed to pursue justice are silenced.

In woke culture, this fear becomes a defining feature: safety is redefined so narrowly that truth‑telling feels dangerous, and courage is replaced by silence.

When Solidarity Becomes Performance

Solidarity is powerful. It means refusing to let the oppressed stand alone. But when solidarity is measured only by public displays—hashtags, slogans, corporate branding—sincerity is replaced by optics.

The noble impulse collapses into performance. People learn to “look” supportive rather than be supportive. Justice becomes a stage play, where the loudest signals of allegiance matter more than quiet acts of care.

This performative solidarity is another hallmark of woke culture. It rewards appearances over substance, turning moral commitment into branding. The danger is that movements become hollow, driven by optics rather than genuine transformation.

When Identity Becomes Tribalism

Honoring identity is essential. It recognizes lived experience and gives voice to those long silenced. But when identity becomes the sole source of moral authority, universals are dismissed as oppressive.

The noble impulse collapses into tribalism. Groups compete for recognition, and shared humanity is forgotten. Instead of unity, division deepens. Dialogue across differences becomes impossible because each identity claims exclusive authority.

In woke culture, this tribal fragmentation is central. It elevates identity above universals, creating competition rather than solidarity. Justice becomes fractured, with no common ground to unite diverse voices.

When Purity Becomes Punishment

Seeking purity is admirable. Integrity requires consistency, and compromise can entrench injustice. But when purity is enforced without mercy, growth and forgiveness vanish.

The noble impulse collapses into punishment. Even allies are destroyed for imperfection, and movements consume themselves. Mercy, humility, and patience are lost. The culture becomes puritanical, where one mistake defines a person forever.

This punitive spirit defines woke culture. It turns vigilance into purging, leaving no room for redemption. Instead of building coalitions, it fractures them, replacing hope with fear of being cast out.

When Urgency Becomes Fanaticism

Acting urgently is vital. Delay can perpetuate harm. But when urgency rejects prudence, inquiry, or dialogue, fanaticism replaces wisdom.

The noble impulse collapses into recklessness. Energy without patience burns bridges instead of building them. Movements lose the ability to persuade, because urgency has become absolutism.

This reckless urgency fuels woke culture. It transforms moral energy into fanaticism, demanding immediate compliance rather than thoughtful change. Justice becomes a sprint with no endurance, collapsing under its own intensity.

Relativism: The Engine of Woke Culture

These distortions do not exist in isolation. They are powered by relativism—the belief that truth and morality depend only on context, culture, or identity. Relativism denies universals, leaving noble impulses unanchored.

Relativism whispers: “What’s true for you may not be true for me.” It sounds compassionate, but it fragments authority. Each group defines its own rules. Justice becomes shifting, depending on who is speaking. Dialogue dissolves into accusation.

The irony is sharp: when relativism claims “all truths are relative,” it sneaks in a universal claim—making itself self‑defeating. By divorcing principles from universals, relativism leaves justice unstable and principles self‑contradictory.

This is why woke culture emerges. Protection without courage becomes fear. Solidarity without humility becomes performance. Identity without universality becomes tribalism. Purity without mercy becomes punishment. Urgency without wisdom becomes fanaticism. Together, these distortions form the recognizable pattern of woke culture: noble intentions collapsing into destructive behaviors.

Human Solutions: Helpful but Fragile

When justice collapses under relativism, people often reach for human‑centered alternatives. These approaches are valuable, but each proves fragile when tested.

Human Nature grounds morality in shared instincts and needs. It feels concrete because every culture recognizes basic realities like survival and dignity. Yet “nature” is contested—different societies define it differently, and history shows it can be twisted to justify oppression. Helpful, but unstable.

Reason promises consistency and fairness. It builds systems of law and dialogue that transcend culture. But reason depends on premises shaped by ideology or power, and it often feels abstract, unable to inspire sacrifice or mercy. Helpful, but limited.

Shared Vulnerability awakens empathy. Everyone knows pain, so it connects across cultures. Yet vulnerability alone cannot tell us how to balance competing claims or whose suffering takes priority. Helpful, but incomplete.

Together, these human solutions provide scaffolding—valuable supports for moral reflection. But scaffolding is not bedrock. They help us build, but they cannot hold the weight of justice when storms come. That is why woke culture, built on relativism, cannot stabilize itself by appealing only to human solutions. They are helpful, but fragile.

Transcendence: The Bedrock We Need

The strongest foundation for universal principles is transcendence—something beyond human opinion.

Transcendence provides authority. Principles grounded in what is eternal cannot be co‑opted or relativized. Justice, mercy, and dignity reflect realities bigger than us.

Transcendence provides balance. It reconciles law and mercy, universals and particulars. It unites mercy and truth, righteousness and peace.

Transcendence provides motivation. It inspires sacrifice and mercy beyond self‑interest. Human‑centered ethics falter under pressure; transcendence sustains moral commitment even when costly.

Transcendence provides continuity. Principles like justice, mercy, humility, and courage appear across civilizations and endure through history. They persist because they echo something greater than human invention.

Without transcendence, woke culture remains unstable. With transcendence, noble impulses are restored to their proper balance: protection with courage, solidarity with humility, identity with universality, purity with mercy, urgency with wisdom.

From Woke Culture to Enduring Justice

Good intentions alone are not enough. When they are cut off from universal truths, they become dangerous. Relativism denies universals, leaving justice unstable. Human solutions help but cannot fully secure them. Only transcendence provides the bedrock we need—anchoring justice beyond opinion, reconciling diversity with unity, and inspiring mercy alongside law.

But transcendence is not just an abstract idea. It points us toward God. He is not one option among many; He is the necessary foundation. Without Him, universals dissolve into opinion, and virtue collapses into performance. With Him, justice is anchored in eternal truth, mercy is reconciled with law, and courage is sustained by hope.

The argument is simple: if we want justice that endures, we must ground it in God. Anything less leaves us building on sand.