Mahatma Gandhi

I work at a major tech company. I have evidence that our AI product is being used by a foreign government to identify and track dissidents. People have disappeared after being flagged by our system. I've raised concerns internally. I was told the use is "within the terms of service" and that we "can't control how customers use our products." That's technically true and morally bankrupt. I've decided to act, but I'm torn about how. One option is to go public loudly—leak documents to journalists, name names, burn bridges, and accept the consequences. Maximum pressure, maximum visibility, probably maximum retaliation. Another option is quieter resistance—secretly documenting everything, connecting with other concerned employees, building a coalition for change from within, working with sympathetic board members. Less dramatic, but maybe more sustainable and less destructive. My partner says the loud approach is ego—that I want to be a martyr more than I want to create change. But the quiet approach feels like complicity while people suffer. When fighting a powerful institution, do you confront or subvert? — The Tech Whistleblower in San Francisco

55 votes

My sister's husband is emotionally abusive. He doesn't hit her, but he controls the money, isolates her from friends, and criticizes everything she does. When I've tried to help, he turns it around—suddenly I'm the problem, I'm "interfering," I'm "jealous of their marriage." I've tried being gentle and supportive with my sister. I've tried having a direct conversation with him. I've tried getting my parents involved. Nothing works. She defends him every time. Part of me wants to confront him publicly at the next family gathering—force everyone to see what's happening. Part of me wonders if that would just make things worse for my sister. How do I help someone who won't admit they need help? Should I fight openly or keep working subtly? — Watching Her Disappear in Detroit

86 votes

I work at a federal agency and I've discovered that my department has been systematically falsifying safety inspection data for a major industry. People have died because of this. I have documents proving everything. The legal route is a dead end—I've tried. The inspector general is compromised. Congressional oversight is gridlocked. The industry has too many lobbyists. A journalist has offered to publish everything if I leak the documents. It would be illegal. I'd likely go to prison. But it might save lives. My lawyer says there's another way: I could use what I know as leverage. Quietly approach the agency head, make clear what I have, negotiate reforms in exchange for my silence. "That's how Washington actually works," she says. "You get results without martyrdom." The leverage play feels dirty—I'd be using the same transactional logic that created this corruption. But the leak might accomplish nothing except destroying my life. When the system is broken, do you work within its rules or break them? Is it better to be effective or to be pure? — The Whistleblower's Dilemma in Washington

58 votes

I'm an organizer fighting a development company that's displacing hundreds of low-income families in my neighborhood. They've bought off city council members, their lawyers are crushing us in court, and our peaceful marches get covered for one news cycle then forgotten. Some younger activists want to escalate. Block construction equipment. Occupy buildings. Make it too expensive and embarrassing for them to continue. "The system doesn't respond to niceness," they say. "It responds to power and disruption." The older members of our coalition are horrified. They marched with Dr. King. They believe nonviolent moral witness is the only legitimate path. They say if we break the law, we become the villains. But the families are being evicted *now*. Every month we spend on incremental progress, another building is demolished. At what point does commitment to peaceful means become complicity with the violence being done to us? — Peaceful Protest or Hardball in Portland

83 votes