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Moral Prostitution and the Death Machine

  • angela9240
  • Aug 19
  • 2 min read

Updated: Aug 21

Leather-strapped wristwatch hangs on tree bark, displaying time. Warm, earthy tones dominate the image, evoking a rustic feel.

I understand people need to survive—need food, shelter, income.


Life demands a certain pragmatism. But survival shouldn't come at the cost of our souls.


When someone does something unethical for money, it’s not just a compromise—it’s a transaction of integrity.

That’s what I call moral prostitution. It’s selling off one’s values for a paycheck. And though I have compassion for people trying to make ends meet, there is a line that should not be crossed.


For me, that line is the war machine.


I could never work for the military-industrial complex—the vast, profit-driven system that fuels conflict, destruction, and death across the globe.


I care too much about human life to play any role in a machine built to extinguish it. No matter how high the salary, no matter how gilded the title, I refuse to tie my ethics to an engine of suffering.



Of course, they don’t call it what it is. They rarely do.



They dress it up and call it “defense,” as if the mere rebranding of war as protection makes it noble. But words can’t cleanse blood.


Euphemisms don’t erase devastation. “Defense” is often just a prettier name for death, and I refuse to pretend otherwise.


They say freedom isn’t free. And I get it—there are bad actors on this planet. Evil exists. War has been justified again and again.


But maybe that’s exactly the problem: it shouldn't be. Justifying war has become our default, our excuse, our habit. And it’s killing us—not just physically, but morally, spiritually, and globally.


Humans must find another way.


Let our AI conduct our wars—simulate them, solve them, outwit rather than outgun.


Let us build arenas for pageantry, strategy, and symbolic dominance if we must—but not for state-sanctioned mass murder.


Let the manosphere fluff its feathers some other way. Compete, perform, display power—but do it through intellect, art, architecture, innovation. Do it without death.


There’s something tragic about how normalized all of this is—how deeply embedded in our economy and psyche the war industry has become.


It’s a sad reality of the human condition, but we don’t have to accept it as inevitable. We can resist with our choices, our voices, and our values.

Peace isn’t passive. It’s radical. And it requires moral courage.


I choose not to participate in systems that dehumanize, that destroy, that profit from suffering. It might not always be the easiest path—but it’s the one where I can sleep at night, knowing my conscience is intact.

Let us remember: peace doesn’t just need protestors. It needs principled people who refuse to power the death machine.


 

 
 
 

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