When Elon Musk made a Nazi salute, that should have been the end of the Republican Party and the conservative movement in American politics. The fact that it wasn’t reveals that a large portion of Americans either agree or don’t care enough to take a moral position on nazism. In Georgia alone, nearly 70% of white voters continue to support Republican power at the state and federal levels. That reality follows a familiar historical pattern. Americans have always preferred moral ambiguity—especially when fighting injustice may require sacrifice.

Considering the country has had to pass civil rights legislation again and again—1866, 1875, 1964, 1965— the concept of basic human dignity has never been embedded in America’s moral framework. Rights were not naturally extended; they were violently resisted and then legally forced. The idea of “be kind and treat everyone right” has never governed American society. Our systems of governance reflect this. Race has been used as a tool of competition and exclusion, a mechanism for denying humanity and justifying inequality. It is easier to dismiss injustice when the harmed are labeled “undeserving,” “inferior,” or “less than.” It is easier to excuse cruelty when demanding we be better could come at a personal cost.

Every major American financial institution profited from chattel slavery. And when slavery ended, these institutions were compensated, while the enslaved received nothing. Today, many still profit from modern wage theft and structural exploitation. Ignoring injustice still creates beneficiaries—people who gain socially, politically, and economically from systems of inequality. For many, the sacrifice required to oppose it feels too high: changing political affiliation, disrupting careers, losing social networks, leaving platforms, breaking from institutions, starting over.

It’s why X, formerly Twitter, didn’t collapse the day Elon Musk publicly saluted a genocidal, racist, fascist movement responsible for the deaths of millions. Governments, corporations, media outlets, journalists, institutions—every major entity—should have left. The platform should have been abandoned in protest, in principle, in moral refusal. Instead, they stayed.

That collective silence taught everyone a lesson: Americans will tolerate fascist symbolism. They will normalize extremist rhetoric. They will accept escalating violence as long as their comfort remains intact. When X did not hemorrhage users, it signaled to Musk and those who think like him that there would be no consequences. That normalization leads somewhere—and it always does. Escalating rhetoric becomes escalating violence. Dehumanization becomes action.

The murders of ICE protesters in Minnesota did not emerge in a vacuum. They are the logical outcome of a culture trained to tolerate hate, excuse extremism, and trade moral courage for convenience.

Presence is not neutral. Remaining on a platform is a form of consent. Participation is a form of endorsement. Silence is a form of permission.

Because how bad can it really be—if you’re still here?