We have forgotten our humanity in a world gone mad

I sit here and my heart hurts.

Every day, there’s another senseless death or violent act—both here in Australia and around the world.

I’m not a political commentator. I usually steer clear of public commentary on these issues. But how long can we keep pretending this is normal? When will we agree that something needs to change—before it’s too late?

Last week, two teenagers were brutally killed in Melbourne’s west, in what’s being described as a gang-related attack. It’s not the first time. And it won’t be the last unless something shifts.

I am just so glad we have those machete bins that cost $340,000 per bin. I’m sure that’s helping.

The other day, I was walking to the local shops with my baby in the pram when a young man jumped out of a car and reached into the backseat. I flinched. I braced myself. A part of me wondered, Is he reaching for a weapon?

How heartbreaking is it that we now expect violence—even in the most ordinary moments?

And abroad? It’s no better. We’ve heard stories of innocent people like, Iyrna Zyruska, murdered on trains, or gunned down in public, like Charlie Kirk, for simply holding an opposing view. Some were repeat offenders. Some victims were ignored in their final moments. What kind of world are we living in when a human life can be extinguished without resistance or even compassion?

This isn’t a race issue. Or a political issue. It’s a humanity problem.

We’ve become so quick to “other” people. To assign them less value based on skin colour, religion, or opinion. We weaponize words like “racist” without understanding the damage of misusing them. All it does is create more fear, more silence, more division.

We’ve forgotten how to be human.

We’ve forgotten how to be kind.

We’ve forgotten that disagreeing with someone doesn’t make them our enemy. That conflict doesn’t justify cruelty. That no ideology is more sacred than life itself.

I’ve seen young adults brawling in shopping centres, completely disconnected from the sacredness of life—not just their own, but everyone else’s. I see fewer consequences. I see less leadership. And I see a growing emptiness where empathy used to live.

We saw it during COVID. Fear took hold. People hoarded, distrusted, turned on each other over vaccine choices. Families fractured. People forgot they actually loved each other.

So I’m not writing this to “solve” anything. Maybe we can’t change the world overnight.

But we can remember ourselves. We can choose—today—to treat the next person we meet with a little more care. A little more presence. A little more humanity.

And maybe that small act of kindness ripples into something bigger.

This is a call to consciousness. It’s a cry for humanity in a world that often seems to have forgotten what it means.