PECKERWOOD'S WEEKLY LUNOCRACY POST! The Not So Young Republicans Week of 10/20/25

 

When Politico published the cache of racist, bigoted, antisemitic, and violent messages from the “Young” Republicans’ private group chat, it didn’t just expose a few “edgy” or “off color” jokes. It exposed rot that had been lurking beneath charm, networking, and the polished illusion of respectability.

These were not anonymous internet basement dwelling trolls. They were congressional aides, campaign staffers, interns, and strategists. They are the ones who will inherit the microphones, the legislation, the power, and the laws. In that putrid chat, they wrote like people who believed they were protected. They used slurs as punctuation and bonded over cruelty.

The reaction from the GOP was predictable: a few suspensions, some hollow statements, and a chorus of “That’s not who we are.” Worthless excuses that no one who paid attention would believe. This is exactly who they are when they think no one is watching.

But this story isn’t just about them. It’s about the ones who knew and stayed silent. The colleagues who said, “They didn’t mean it.” The friends who laughed, changed the subject, or said nothing at all. The people who didn’t protest because they did not want to lose a connection or make a scene.

That is how hate survives. Not through belief, but through laziness and convenience.

Silence is not neutral. It is permission. It is complicity masked as restraint. Each time you scroll past the slur, you confirm that comfort matters more than conscience. You become part of the scaffold that builds a Fascist regime. 

Aren’t we all guilty of this crime, at least once?  The offhand joke in the office that we know is disgusting, but we say nothing. The unbearable family gathering when someone “just tells it like it is.” The old friend whose opinions have taken a right turn and curdled. We tell ourselves that arguing won’t change anything, that keeping the peace is the mature choice. This is not maturity; it is surrender.

If you stay quiet long enough, you become part of the support system. And when the private language of hatred becomes public policy, you don’t get to claim surprise; you were already there for the rehearsal. 

The price of confronting hate is discomfort and, in some cases, sacrifice. The cost of ignoring it is a country where cruelty is casual and empathy sounds naïve.

The Lunocracy depends on people staying silent. It is the supporting cast who make it possible; without them, there is no rise to power.  It feeds on hesitation and the mirage that neutrality is moral. It thrives when good people do nothing more than flinch. 

If someone you love is spewing hate and you choose not to speak, the next slur belongs to you, too.