Lawlessness Isn’t Destiny!

A Sunny Look at Crime, Responsibility And Why We Deserve Better...

Let me be blunt: what pisses me off the most isn’t just the criminals. It’s the staggering percentage of people in our society who either don’t give a crap or have somehow convinced themselves that all of this is fine. Every single day and I mean every single day you can open your laptop, glance at a newspaper, or flip on the TV and you’ll find fresh proof that we’ve normalized behavior that would have shocked us a decade ago.

Just this morning, I read an article about criminals figuring out how to drain the money off gift cards before you even use them. A petty crime? Maybe. But it’s a perfect illustration of the larger sickness: they’ll probably never get caught. And even if they are, we all know how the script goes. Someone will explain that the culprit had a tough childhood, or ate too many Twinkies, or wasn’t hugged enough, and suddenly somehow we’re the unreasonable ones for wanting consequences.

I don’t know about you, but I am exhausted, bone-deep exhausted from living in a society that silently condones criminal behavior. Not explicitly. Not out loud. But silently. Passively. With a shrug. That shrug is the part that scares me the most.

It’s the shrug that tells us theft isn’t really theft if the store is big enough. It’s the shrug that says broken windows are just part of the “urban experience.” It’s the shrug that insists we shouldn’t expect safety, order, or basic accountability because those expectations are somehow outdated or oppressive. And it’s the shrug that guarantees nothing will change.

Miranda Devine is right: lawlessness is a choice. Not an accident. Not an unavoidable force of nature. A choice made through policies, priorities, and cultural narratives that signal, loudly, that consequences are optional.

And here’s the thing: we used to know better. We used to understand that order doesn’t magically appear out of thin air. It’s built, defended, and reinforced through consistent expectations and clear lines that society agrees not to cross. When leaders enforce those lines, communities flourish. When they erase them, chaos rushes in.

But this isn’t just a story about politicians or DAs or judges. This is a story about us, about the culture we tolerate, the behavior we excuse, and the silence we offer when something deep in our gut is screaming, This is not normal.

Because it’s not. It is not normal to watch neighborhoods decay and pretend it’s compassionate. It is not normal to redefine crime as “a cry for help.” It is not normal to accept that repeat offenders cycle through the system like they’re on a loyalty rewards program. And it sure as hell isn’t normal to live with a daily stream of small, grinding violations and call it progress.

Here’s the truth I keep coming back to: we don’t have to live like this. We don’t have to lower our expectations of what a functioning society looks like. We don’t have to surrender to the idea that chaos is the price of modern life.

We can choose differently. We can demand differently. We can refuse to shrug.

And that’s why I’m writing today, because the first step in reversing this slide is to stop pretending that the slide isn’t happening. The second step? To reclaim the simple, powerful truth that public safety isn’t a privilege or a political football. It’s the foundation of a healthy society.

Maybe the people who don’t care won’t change. Maybe the ones who think this is all fine won’t wake up until the consequences touch their own doorstep.

But the rest of us? The ones who still believe in accountability, responsibility, and the basic right to walk down the street without calculating our odds?

We’re still here. And we’re not crazy, and we’re not overreacting.

We’re just done pretending.

The good news is that none of this is irreversible. Every community that slid into disorder has, at some point, found its way back through people who refused to give up; people who insisted on better, demanded accountability, and believed their neighborhoods were worth fighting for. Change doesn’t start in a legislature or a DA’s office; it starts with us deciding that safety, order, and dignity are non-negotiable. The moment we stop shrugging is the moment the tide turns.