Stories

While I find value in the HELM's critique of power structures, I worry about its practical application. The emphasis on individual moral transformation can distract from the need for systemic change. Aspiring to love everyone is beautiful in theory, but it doesn't dismantle oppressive institutions or redistribute power. I've seen too many well-meaning people use personal piety as a substitute for political action. We need both—inner transformation and outer revolution—but the HELM's focus on conscience sometimes feels like it lets systems off the hook. Love without structural change can become another form of accommodation to injustice.

I'm a retired military officer who spent decades in a world that runs on the Power Ethos—strength, hierarchy, dominance. Reading the HELM was uncomfortable because it named truths I'd been avoiding. I'd told myself that serving my country justified any means, but the framework on permission structures and moral justification forced me to reckon with actions I'd rationalized. Aspiring to love everyone seemed weak at first, incompatible with national security. But then I thought about the young soldiers I'd led, the civilians affected by our decisions. True strength isn't domination—it's having the courage to choose mercy when you have the power to destroy.

As an immigrant who became a citizen, I've experienced both the Heaven Ethos and Power Ethos in America. Some welcomed my family with genuine compassion; others saw us as threats to be controlled or excluded. The HELM's analysis of how fear is weaponized to justify cruelty perfectly describes the rhetoric I hear about immigration. But the framework also gives me hope—I've seen people's minds change when they actually meet immigrants, when fear is replaced with relationship. Now I volunteer helping new immigrants navigate the system, embodying the welcome I wish everyone received. Small acts of dignity matter more than grand political victories.