By Patrick Hardeman – In and Out of Darkness

Somewhere across the world, at this very moment, a government official is standing at a podium explaining why your life is harder, and somehow, miraculously, it’s not their fault.

It’s the foreigner.
It’s the immigrant.
It’s the outsider.
It’s the mysterious “them.”

Apparently, these people, often arriving with nothing but a backpack, hope, and questionable Wi-Fi are simultaneously responsible for crime, poverty, job shortages, housing crises, food shortages, and the reason your Amazon package is late. One more press conference and they’ll be blamed for climate change and your uncle’s Facebook posts.

This is the banana in the tailpipe.

And globally, we fell for it.

Because here’s the part that never gets mentioned: Not a single foreigner voted on national budgets. Not one approved predatory loans. Not one designed tax codes so complex you need a degree, a lawyer, and a stiff drink just to understand why you owe more money this year than last.

Economic damage does not sneak across borders in the dead of the night. It shows up in tailored suits, confident smiles, and phrases like “necessary sacrifice”: which somehow always means our sacrifices, never theirs.

Yet when communities crumble, instead of looking up, we look sideways. We punch down. We argue with each other over scraps while the table itself is quietly carried away.

That’s not accidental. That’s design.

We were sold personalities instead of principles.
Sound bites instead of solutions.
Celebrities instead of servants.

We elected people because they were entertaining, relatable, or loud, and then acted shocked when governing turned out to be harder than campaigning. When policies failed, accountability vanished. When promises evaporated, explanations multiplied. And when anger grew, we were handed a convenient villain with an accent.

Meanwhile, let’s talk about standards.

You and I miss a payment: penalties arrive instantly.

You fill out a form wrong: denied.

You question authority: flagged, labeled, or quietly punished.

But when public officials mismanage billions?
When policies destroy livelihoods?
When corruption is exposed?

We’re told it’s “complicated.”
There’s an “investigation.”
Mistakes were “made.”

No fines. No jail. No public apology tour. Just a lateral move, a book deal, or a promotion to an even bigger office. Somehow, failure is the only thing in society that still qualifies as upward mobility.

And yet, we’re encouraged to feel bad for wanting better.
Ungrateful. Unrealistic. Divisive.

We’re told to be thankful for scraps while watching the first serving of society go to people who already ate yesterday, and tomorrow, and the day after that. Then we’re asked to clap.

Let’s pause right there.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to trust leadership. That desire isn’t weakness, it’s how functioning societies survive. But continuing to excuse unethical behavior once it’s obvious? That’s not trust. That’s habit. And habits can be broken.

The phrase “public servant” has become one of the most aggressive missed titles on Earth. Somewhere along the way, service turned into status. Accountability was replaced with branding. And leadership became indistinguishable from performance art.

This isn’t a single country problem.

It’s not left versus right.

It’s not culture, race, or borders.

It’s a global pattern:

Divide the population.

Redirect frustration.

Lower expectations.

Normalize hypocrisy.

Rinse and repeat.

And it works – until it doesn’t.

Because people eventually notice when they’re being managed instead of represented. When rules apply downward but never upward. When “the system” always seems to need saving, but citizens are told to fend for themselves.

This is the moment where comedy stops being funny – and becomes revealing. Because the joke only lands once you realize we are the punchline.

But here’s the good news: awareness breaks the spell.

Accountability isn’t radical.

Transparency isn’t dangerous.

Expecting consequences isn’t unreasonable.

What is unreasonable is pretending that the same playbook will suddenly produce a different outcome. What is dangerous is confusing power with wisdom and visibility with virtue.

We don’t need perfect leaders. We need accountable ones.

We don’t need idols. We need adults.

Humanity first. People before profit. Service before spotlight.

No more celebrity politicians.

No more imported scapegoats.

No more pretending we don’t see what’s right in front of us.

The hoodwink only works as long as we agree to stay distracted.

Time to stop the car.

Take This With You

Don’t just agree with this quietly.

This week, wherever real people gather: the break room, the barbershop, the cookout, ask one simple question out loud:

“Who actually benefits from this?”

When the answer turns into blame – immigrants, outsiders, them – ask one more:

“Okay… but who signed the paperwork?”

Then stop talking.

You don’t need to argue. You don’t need to win. You just need to interrupt the script.

Because systems don’t survive on force, they survive on silence. And accountability doesn’t start in offices or courts.

It starts in conversations we’ve been trained not to have.

Take this with you. Say it badly. Say it honestly. Say it anyway.

The hoodwink ends the moment the questions change.

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