Inversion of Values and Small Acts of Moral Clarity

People today are shocked by the atrocities in Gaza, and by the indifferent reactions from individuals, institutions and governments around the world. This shock signals a slow but growing awareness to systemic injustices that Palestinians have been enduring for long. While this is positive, what remains less attended is the deeper dynamics that have allowed so many to “not see” or look away from ongoing human rights violations - in Gaza, Myanmar, Sudan, Eritrea/Ethiopia and many other regions.

These dynamics include the familiar us-versus-them framing, which sets individuals, groups, institutions, or nations against a so-called “bad other” - often portraying Muslims, migrants, Black people, activists, or non-Western nations as threatening or inferior. Another -  less obvious - dynamics is the inversion of values: a slow, deliberate, and often strategic reshaping of what is considered “good” and “bad.” While the first dynamic focuses on the who (actor), the second concerns the what (action).

The definitions of “good” and “bad” have always been somewhat fluid. However, there has generally been a collective understanding of certain acts of goodness.  Across the world, moral values such as justice, compassion, fairness, and human have been translated to social norms and codified into law, including international human rights law. They have functioned as a guiding principle, a source of accountability, and a beacon of hope, even in contexts where violations were routine - such as in Gaza.

Today that beacon is flickering. First because human rights violations are met with silence, deflection, or selective outrage by the very institutions and governments that claim to champion human value and dignity. While such hypocrisy with regard to who should be condemend is not new, the scale, intensity, and especially the blatant nature of both the abuses and the responses are prompting more people than ever to question the credibility of those who present themselves with superior moral values and claim to stand for justice.

Second - and this is less frequently questioned - is the deliberate blurring of the line between what is considered good and bad. As I have written in the past (e.g. here),  rapid technological change (e.g. social media), major demographic shifts (e.g. due to global migration), and growing political polarization have resulted in a perfect storm, creating new power structures and dynamics. Amid that storm, there has been a slow strategic reframing of harmful actions as virtuous, while casting acts of solidarity and compassion as dangerous or even criminal.

A society’s values are often revealed by how it treats its most vulnerable members. The treatment of Palestinians in Gaza and Israel makes this painfully clear, and so does the inhumane treatment of African refugees in Israel. For years, Eritrean refugees were labeled as 'illegal infiltrators,' discouraging acts of solidarity and compassion - a reality I witnessed firsthand during a work visit to Tel Aviv in 2011. A few years later, the Israeli government created convoluted legal rules to deny refugee rights for protection. As then–Interior Minister Eli Yishai put it: “Lock them up to make their lives miserable.”

In my 2017 interview with Filosofie Magazine, I gave an other the example, of Eritrean Catholic priest Mussie Zerai, who helped thousands of Eritrean refugees in desperate need - mostly young people who experienced serial severe human rights violations. A year after he was shortlisted for the Nobel Peace Prize for being the “guardian angel of refugees”, the Italian government accused him of being a "human trafficker". It was becoming increasingly clear: "Whoever helps is now criminalized. That is the spirit of the times." as I concluded in that interview.

Sadly, now institutions and governments across the world are introducing laws that punish acts of compassion. Even in my own backyard, where just recently, the Dutch parliament passed legislation that could criminalize helping undocumented migrants - even children. This did not happen overnight. It followed years of framing migrants, especially Muslims and refugees, as threats - no matter how good they do. This structural framing is now being written into law.

The systematic reversal of values goes beyond dividing “us” from “them”, as it undermines relationships not only between “us” and “them”, but also within “us” and “them”. This is worrying at many levels. It breeds apathy at the individual level, hinders the formation of empathetic communities, weakens institutions’ ability to respond to injustice, and erodes the foundations of democratic societies. Many now even claim our moral compass is broken.

However, I believe our moral compass is still working. Just as a compass responds to magnetic fields, our moral sense continues to respond to a deep sense of righteousness - even if it does so slowly or uncertainly, as we see happening in the case of Gaza. The issue is not a broken compass, but deliberate efforts to cloud, confuse and mislead it’s use: reframing north as south, left as right, good as bad. This is not per se a crisis of morality - it is a crisis of confusion.

Addressing this crisis of confusion requires more than public outrage over human rights violations. It calls for a deeper reckoning: a return to moral clarity at the individual, communal, and societal levels. But how do we reclaim the distinction between good and bad in a world that actively works to blur it? Perhaps we begin close to home - by examining our own moral judgments in everyday situations, where value inversions often occur unnoticed, or are simply downplayed or ignored.

For example, in my research group, we experienced how subtle value inversions by a single individual quickly led to confusion and fear, both within and beyond the group. By engaging in an open dialogue on values and norms under the supervision of an external, we were able to clarify our individual values and establish a shared foundation for our collective work. This seemingly simple process not only restored clarity but also strengthened our trust, purpose, and cohesion as a group.

In a world where big moral values are being undermined and inverted, small acts of moral clarity - in our conversations, communities, and institutions - can become powerful acts of resistance, reconciliation and resilience.