It occurred during what should have been our peaceful online meditation meeting. For three consecutive days, strangers invaded our Zoom session, disrupting our quiet gathering with hostile messages. One intruder’s comments indicated this wasn’t random — we were being deliberately targeted. I had recently published opinion pieces in this newspaper about creating a more humane, compassionate society. Suddenly, that simple act had turned our meditation circle into a site of contention.
The violation left me feeling exposed and alone, questioning my safety for simply expressing my beliefs. As I sat with these feelings, I realized I wasn’t alone. Throughout our community and the nation, journalists, teachers, preachers, civil rights lawyers, and countless others confront similar targeted intimidation for expressing their views or just doing their jobs.
Echoes from the Past
The harassment stirred deeper memories — family stories that have shaped my understanding of what intimidation can become. My grandfather, a Catholic history teacher, was beaten, and interrogated by Nazi stormtroopers in 1933, ultimately imprisoned. These vivid family stories, alongside accounts from Argentina’s dirty war and what we’re witnessing today in places like Hungary and Turkey, send chills down my spine.
I’m careful not to draw exact parallels — each moment in history carries unique dangers. However, I can’t overlook the familiar patterns of using fear to silence voices and make people afraid to speak their truth.
The Quiet Erosion of Freedom
What worries me most isn’t just what happened to our meditation group; it’s the ripple effects throughout our society. Teachers avoid discussing certain historical topics. Librarians worry about which books to display. Healthcare providers face threats at fertility clinics. Writers like me wonder if our next piece will draw unwanted attention to our families.
The response to my recent writings reveals something disturbing. Readers often praise my “courage” for addressing topics they feel unsafe discussing publicly. This indicates that we’re fostering a climate of fear that extends far beyond those directly targeted.
When our children observe adults whispering about certain topics and learn that some conversations come with risks, what are we teaching them about freedom? New taboos form quietly, and people often choose silence to avoid potential conflict. But what occurs when fear stops us from sharing honest thoughts about history, science, and human rights? We lose the essential exchange of ideas that healthy communities require to thrive.
The Slow Boil
Today’s intimidation often operates more subtly than the overt violence witnessed throughout history. Like the frog in slowly boiling water, we risk becoming desensitized to the gradual restrictions on what we can say and think. The pattern usually begins with targeting marginalized groups — “It’s just about those people, not about me” — until eventually, the circle of acceptable discourse narrows for everyone.
German pastor Martin Niemöller, who spent years in a concentration camp, captured this progression: “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a socialist…” By the time the persecution reached him, there was no one left to speak out.
The True Cost
In reaching out to others with similar experiences, I’ve found both comfort and concern. A librarian discreetly moved certain books from prominent displays after receiving threatening messages. A teacher now refrains from discussing Native American history despite its educational significance. A nurse at a fertility clinic glances over her shoulder when arriving for work each day.
These conversations reveal the true cost of intimidation: countless discussions that never happen, articles left unwritten, services not provided, and truths unspoken — all because speaking up has become too risky.
The Society We Choose
This raises a fundamental question: What kind of community do we want? One where fear dictates our discussions? Where professionals cannot perform their jobs according to best practices without facing threats? Where our children learn that certain topics are off-limits?
Or do we seek a space where ideas can be debated vigorously yet respectfully? Where public service is not met with harassment? Creating this requires all of us to take action. It means standing with those who face intimidation.
Building Something Better
To those who feel silenced: You are not alone. Together, our voices can resist the quiet normalization of intimidation. But resistance isn’t enough — we must actively build the community we want to see.
Let’s create genuine, safe spaces where people with differing opinions can respectfully share their views. Let’s form community groups where we can process our fears together, choosing connection over isolation.
I’m not writing this to escalate tensions, but to encourage reflection. To those who disagree: I welcome such disagreement. Let’s engage, debate, and share our differing viewpoints. Join me for coffee so we can exchange ideas openly. When we meet face to face and listen to one another, we often discover that we have more in common than we realized.
Thank you to whoever ended the Zoom bombing during our meditation sessions. A big thank you goes out to all the meditators who refuse to be discouraged and continue to join us!
Our meditation circle will continue to meet, and I will keep writing, because that’s what it means to live freely in a democracy that is worth protecting.
Radhule Weininger is a psychologist, physician, and meditation teacher serving our community.
