- by Gabriel Voorhees
Modern culture did not collapse all at once.
It fractured syllable by syllable.
What we are witnessing is not merely political division or cultural disagreement—it is a reengineering of language itself. Words are being hollowed out, stretched, repainted, and reissued with new meanings. And once words are altered, reality soon follows.
This is not new.
It is Babel.
At the Tower of Babel, humanity was not merely stacking bricks; they were constructing an identity without God. “Let us make a name for ourselves,” they said. The tower was not the problem—the ambition was. Pride sought transcendence without submission. Humanity attempted to ascend by its own definitions.
God’s response was surgical, not violent.
He touched their language.
When words fractured, understanding collapsed. Shared meaning dissolved. Culture stalled. Civilization halted. The tower stopped rising because the people could no longer agree on what anything meant. The confusion of language produced the paralysis of unity.
That same judgment is echoing through our age.
A society does not fall when armies invade.
It falls when words no longer mean what they once did.
When language is redefined, unity erodes. When unity erodes, trust dies. When trust dies, everything becomes hostile. Communication turns into collision. Conversation becomes combat.
This is the condition of North America.
The ideas, philosophies, and moral frameworks that once held our society together—handed down through shared assumptions, constitutional freedoms, and moral precepts—have not been overthrown by force. They have been dismantled by semantics.
We did not lose our foundations.
We traded their definitions.
We no longer argue about truth; we argue about the meaning of the words used to describe it.
A baby becomes a “fetus,” then a “clump of cells.”
Sex, once bound to covenant and family, becomes currency—used for power, profit, and pleasure at another’s expense.
Men are called women. Women are called men. Biology is declared optional. Surgery is offered as salvation.
Good is labeled evil. Evil is branded virtuous.
Isaiah’s warning has become our slogan.
And now nothing can be said plainly. Every word requires a disclaimer. Every sentence demands a footnote. Language no longer reveals meaning—it conceals it. English itself has become unstable. Pronouns, symbols, moral categories, even reality itself must be “explained” before it can be understood.
Listen to modern political or cultural discourse.
Words are spoken—but it is often babble.
And perhaps when I speak, I sound the same to them.
This is the true crisis of our age: not merely ideological conflict, but an existential collapse of communication. So much is being said. So little is being understood. We are surrounded by noise, yet starving for meaning.
Babel is not behind us.
It is being rebuilt—this time with microphones, screens, and policies.
And once again, the tower is rising on the ruins of shared language.