“The further a society drifts from truth, the more it will hate those who speak it.” -George Orwell
A few weeks ago, I was scrolling through the news, half-distracted by Instagram reels, when something clicked in my head. It wasn’t because of a big headline or some dramatic political moment. It was quieter than that. Like background music you don’t notice at first, but then suddenly, you realize it’s been playing all along.
The world, slowly and almost silently, seems to be swiping right on conservatism.
When I was younger, the word conservatism honestly sounded like something straight out of a boring history textbook. But now, I see it everywhere. In the way people talk, the laws that are passed, the jokes shared in WhatsApp groups, the Instagram posts that go viral. At its heart, conservatism is about holding on to traditions, culture, religion, basically sticking with what feels familiar and safe. And to be fair, I get the appeal. Familiarity can feel like home.
If I walked into a café today, I wouldn’t even hesitate, I’d order iced tea. It’s my comfort drink. Sweet, predictable, and honestly, I don’t even think twice about it. Matcha, on the other hand, that suspicious green, bitter-looking drink? No way. I’ve never even tried it, but I’ve already decided I probably won’t like it. That’s exactly how conservatism works sometimes. We keep picking the same “iced tea” ideas because they’re comfortable, while refusing to give “matcha”, the new and different, a real chance.
But here’s the thing that really makes me stop and think we’ve been here before.
History has already shown us what happens when societies cling too tightly to the past. In the late 1700s, Europe was built on rigid classes, monarchies, and church control. Conservatism then meant keeping power in the hands of a few, while most people lived without basic rights or freedom. The French Revolution in 1789 exploded because ordinary people were tired of being unheard. They wanted liberty, equality, and justice, even if it meant risking their lives.
A century later, in the 1900s, extreme conservative and nationalist ideas rose in Germany and Italy. Leaders promised to protect their culture and bring back traditional strength. It started with slogans and symbols, but soon, it spiraled into fascism, Nazism, and the Holocaust. Millions of people lost their lives because entire systems decided that some humans deserved fewer rights than others. After World War II, the world came together to form the United Nations and declared the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948. The idea was simple: never again should anyone be denied their basic human dignity because of ideology or identity.
Even in India, during colonial rule, the British justified their power by claiming cultural superiority. Our freedom movement wasn’t just political; it was about reclaiming our identity, our dignity, and our right to exist equally. Generations sacrificed their lives so that we could have a society built on justice and equal rights, not on blind loyalty to old, oppressive structures.
All of that, centuries of pain, revolutions, wars, and movements, was to move forward, not backward.
So why does it feel like we’re quietly walking in reverse again?
I started noticing it around me more clearly a few years ago. When laws like the CAA or the removal of Article 370 became hot topics, it wasn’t just about debates on TV anymore. It was in how neighbors looked at each other differently. How students in classrooms started talking about us and them. How a friend of mine, who belongs to a minority community, told me she sometimes holds back her opinions just to avoid drawing attention. That conversation stayed with me. Because at that moment, the politics wasn’t political anymore, it was personal.
And it’s not just here. In the United States even after Trump left office, his ideas lingered like an aftertaste. In France, the hijab bans became “national identity” debates. In Turkey and parts of Europe, nationalism and religious politics are growing louder. Different countries but the same story.
The worrying part is how quietly this shift happens. No flags waving, no loud alarms. It seeps in through elections, trending hashtags, influencer videos, and casual conversations. One day, it’s about pride and culture. Next, it’s about who belongs and who doesn’t. That’s exactly how human rights start to get chipped away. Not in one big moment, but in small, almost invisible steps.
At first, it might seem harmless. After all, protecting culture isn’t bad. But it becomes dangerous when protection turns into excluding. When migrants, minorities, LGBTQ+ communities, refugees, and ordinary people start losing their safety, their space, their voice. And by the time most people realize it, the background music has become the main track, and human rights are no longer as universal as we thought.
Sometimes, watching all this unfold feels like witnessing a slow plot twist. The kind that history has already warned us about, more than once.
And that’s why this matters. Because the moment we stop noticing, the story gets written without us. And if history has taught us anything, it’s that giving up basic rights doesn’t happen with a bang. It happens slowly, quietly, almost comfortably.
