Selective Memory Is a Hell of a Drug. People Pretend They're Shocked With Jeffrey ''Dahmer'' Epstein. Evil Didn’t Suddenly Arrive With Epstein — The Devil Offered Jesus His Property, Earth. ''Allegedly''.
The recent releases of the Jeffrey Epstein files—millions of pages of documents, emails, photos, and more made public by the U.S. Department of Justice—have once again sparked outrage, shock, and declarations that the world is controlled by evil monsters and powerful elites. People express surprise at the gruesomeness and depravity revealed in these records, which detail Epstein's network of abuse, exploitation, and connections to influential figures.
Yet, this reaction often feels naive. Why the wide-eyed astonishment? Patterns of profound evil, systemic abuse, and unchecked power among the elite aren't new—they've been woven into human history for millennia. A long historical and even biblical perspective shows that treating these revelations as a sudden, unprecedented rupture ignores how deeply rooted such darkness has always been.
Consider the biblical account in Matthew 4:1-11. After fasting for forty days and forty nights in the wilderness, Jesus is tempted by the devil. In one moment, Satan takes Him to a high mountain, shows Him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, and offers them in exchange for worship: "All this I will give you, if you will bow down and worship me." Jesus rejects the offer, but the implication is striking—if the world and its systems of power weren't under Satan's influence or domain in some real sense, he couldn't credibly make such an offer. This passage suggests that the structures of worldly authority have long been tainted by evil forces, allowing atrocities to flourish under those who hold sway.
History bears this out in brutal detail. The transatlantic slave trade stands as one of the most horrific examples of institutionalized evil. For centuries, millions of Africans were kidnapped, transported, and enslaved. Black women, in particular, endured unimaginable horrors: routine rape by enslavers, overseers, and others in positions of power; sexual violence used as a tool of control and degradation; forced breeding; mutilation; and the destruction of families.
History bears this out in brutal detail. The transatlantic slave trade stands as one of the most horrific examples of institutionalized evil. For centuries, millions of Africans were kidnapped, transported, and enslaved. Black women, in particular, endured unimaginable horrors: routine rape by enslavers, overseers, and others in positions of power; sexual violence used as a tool of control and degradation; forced breeding; mutilation; and the destruction of families.
These acts weren't isolated aberrations—they were enabled and protected by the economic and social systems that profited from them. The same lineages and societal structures that produced those rapists, killers, mutilators, and exploiters during slavery are often the ancestors (literal or cultural) of people today who feign shock at Epstein-level depravity. The scale of suffering in that era dwarfs many modern scandals in sheer volume and systemic endorsement, yet it was normalized as "the way things are."
When fresh details emerge—like those in the Epstein files, which include references to powerful names, networks of complicity, and disturbing allegations—the tendency is to treat them as a shocking departure from progress. "How could this happen in our enlightened age?" people ask. But the surprise often stems from a fragile hope: that humanity has evolved beyond such barbarism, that modern institutions and moral progress have finally walled off the worst impulses.
The reality is harsher. Evil doesn't disappear; it adapts. Power protects itself, whether through slavery's legal frameworks in the past or through wealth, influence, and secrecy today. The Epstein case isn't an outlier proving the world has suddenly gone wrong—it's a reminder that it has always harbored monsters in high places, often shielded by the very systems they dominate.
A healthy skepticism isn't about cynicism or despair—it's about clear-eyed realism. It means rejecting naive acceptance of surface-level narratives (whether they claim "everything is fine now" or "this is brand-new evil") and instead recognizing recurring patterns.
Confront the darkness without illusion, push for accountability, and work toward genuine change rather than performative outrage.The world may be tainted, as that wilderness temptation suggests, but acknowledging the long arc of human evil is the first step toward resisting it—not being blindsided by its persistence.
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