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by Temi Jolaawo for The 44 North, Guest Writer


"If smaller, digital forms of consumer-driven eugenics remain normalized and unchecked, the ideology of eugenics risks evolving from past atrocities such as forced sterilization, segregation, or genocide to a widespread belief system; a system so covert that it could become a harmful and pervasive belief entirely under the radar."

“Let the parents go on—we need 500 of these models,” was the first supposedly ‘harmless’ comment I saw under a viral lip-sync video. However, when I continued scrolling, the tone of these comments only grew more disturbing. Comments such as “Keep producing to better humanity,” “They have good genes,” and “Imagine a world with a billion Scandinavians instead of Indians” each received hundreds of likes. The four girls in the video—platinum hair and sapphire eyes—were undeniably gorgeous, but the comments had little to do with admiration. Instead, they revealed something far more troubling: The recent rebrand of an age-old ideology made new. This ideology is called eugenics, and it should not be resurrected. 


Eugenics isn’t a new word by any means. We’ve seen it in the Fitter Family Competitions that rated families based on physical traits and perceived social status, in the Nuremberg Laws of 1935, aiming to prevent “race defilement,” and in the forced sterilization of countless innocent women deemed unsuitable for reproduction. Eugenics has been admonished by most of the modern greater society, particularly after becoming synonymous with World War II. Nonetheless, eugenics, like any other damaging movement, has wound itself back into mainstream conversations. Eugenics never disappeared—it simply adapted.


Eugenics is a scientifically refuted worldview that aims to “improve a population’s genetic composition” through selective breeding (Merriam-Webster, n.d.). It misinterprets the Mendelian law of genetics, believing complex human characteristics can be passed down as simply as single-gene traits. Eugenics claims that human traits such as intelligence, criminality, and other social behaviours could simply be “bred out.”


Now, eugenics appears in more subtle ways: In pseudo-scientific articles that claim certain races face discrimination based on genetic differences, in groups of people who advocate for wealthy individuals to reproduce to “save the human race,” or via that one guy across the street who is against interracial relationships on the premise of ‘protecting racial purity.’ These examples all fall under the umbrella term ‘consumer-driven eugenics,’ the modern reinvention of a centuries-old doctrine. Although consumer-driven eugenics may not be as invasive or overt as previous forms of the ideology, this ‘soft’ or ‘social’ form of eugenics still reinforces the same dehumanizing notion that certain individuals are fundamentally superior to the people around them, and that humans exist in genetic tiers or hierarchies.


Many social hierarchies, such as caste systems, feudalism, white supremacy, and colonial structures, have unjustly held power throughout history. While none is inherently worse or more palatable than the other, eugenics differs slightly. Eugenics not only upholds existing hierarchies—particularly white supremacy—to rank the value of an individual’s genes based on racism, ableism, and misogyny, but it also seeks to enforce these views through physical and often coercive means. This is where I believe eugenics shifts from a hierarchy to an ideology, becoming a complex worldview. It aims to take tangible measures to reach its goal of human perfection.


Eugenics, then, became actionable in two ways: Positively and negatively. Positive eugenics aims to promote reproduction between people who are genetically sound, and negative eugenics discourages, or forcibly bars, reproduction between people deemed genetically inferior (NIH, n.d). For example, in 1933, the American Birth Control League wrote, “Birth Control is of importance when it advocates birth selection by encouraging reproduction of the mentally, physically, and socially adequate and the birth restriction of those not so equipped (Whitney, 1933, p. 85).”


In 1924, the Sterilization Act in Virginia was passed, allowing the state to sterilize anyone deemed “feeble-minded” by force (NIH, 2021). But what did ‘feebleminded’ really mean? It could mean “intellectually inferior,” “troublesome,” or simply “promiscuous” by the state—all ambiguous definitions allowing the state to dictate who had the right to reproduce—who got to be seen in future generations—at its discretion.


The terms ‘feebleminded’ and ‘promiscuous’ are what condemned 18-year-old Carrie Buck to forced sterilization in Virginia, for example. The state didn’t ask about her mother’s past, or the fact that Carrie herself had been unwillingly assaulted; rather, they wanted to sterilize her to “prevent her from passing her perceived feeblemindedness to future generations (Kalomiris, 2022)." The state of Virginia saw someone a notch below perfect on the genetic social hierarchy, a problem that needed to be fixed, erased, and barred from the possibility of future reproduction.


Although there are notable victims such as Carrie Buck, many victims worldwide remain unknown; victims who lost their right to autonomy because they were deemed “genetically inferior” by the state (Lira, 2018). There has been a steady decline in reports of state-supported eugenics, especially after its negative connotations to Nazi Germany when it “flourished during the three decades before the end of World War II (NHGRI, 2022).” Despite this, I believe that through our culture’s thought processes, laws, and opinions, consumer-driven eugenics persists. 


This form of eugenics manifests itself in smaller settings. Instead of state-led eugenics campaigns, this modern-day form of eugenics is often a personal choice—many individuals, small corporations, and even politicians seem to believe in worldviews similar to those of past eugenicists, such as anti-immigration sentiments and “great replacement” ideologies (Sear, n.d). People who believe in modern-day eugenics have found ways to sanitize certain terms. For example, instead of overtly claiming racial superiority, they speak in dog whistles, such as referencing “genetic differences.” This sanitization of eugenics has allowed its notions to be publicly shared, discussed, and normalized with little to no opposition. 


The normalization of eugenics becomes especially harmful when done through social media, given its efficiency and reach. Social media—although implicitly—has contributed to the recent rebranding of eugenics. Its algorithms often recommend personalized, polarizing content that can expose users to and amplify radical ideologies, including eugenics. While the process of radicalization may be complex, social media encourages divisive content and provides a platform for it to spread (Shaw, 2023). This is further exacerbated by social media’s global reach, which turns ideas that would otherwise be an individual’s ideology into a worldwide discussion. As a result, radical, eugenicist ideologies can gradually become more visible and even more normalized in mainstream media.


Although social media can’t be blamed as the sole driver of rebranding eugenics, it plays a critical role, even during our most recent wars. A clear example is the war in Sudan, where there was a stark difference in the way the media and society acknowledged the inhumane conditions Sudanese civilians endured (Booty et al., 2025). Russia’s war on Ukraine, for example, was met with greater sympathy and empathetic language toward refugees, showing that many still believe, even if implicitly, that some lives matter more than others. 


In smaller-scale online situations, comments praising only one kind of beauty or employing hate speech have risen. It doesn’t take much scrolling through Instagram reels, for example, to see negative comments under a video of an interracial couple, claiming they’re “traitors to their own race.” These negative comments—reflective of old, harmful ideologies—have seemed to increase in recent years, fueled in part by the counter-cultural push towards conservatism. 


Modern-day eugenics also relies on scientific misinformation and propaganda to sustain its influence and relevance. Health propaganda, widely spread online, fuels skepticism and distrust among different groups of people, promoting division and keeping the movement relevant. The “dying white race,” for example, is a narrative that ignites fear of an “imminent white genocide” (Levine-Rasky, 2014). These theories misrepresent demographic data and weaponize it against other groups without addressing the broader societal trends. This “data” is then used to justify eugenics and similar ideologies. 


“Genetic inferiority” is also an ideology commonly spread online. These ideologies, as noted by prominent individuals such as Elon Musk, hold that wealthy people have a responsibility to pass on their genes and to “better society” (Schmitz, 2025). These are only two instances of health misinformation seen online, but many remain. If smaller, digital forms of consumer-driven eugenics remain normalized and unchecked, the ideology of eugenics risks evolving from past atrocities such as forced sterilization, segregation, or genocide to a widespread belief system; a system so covert that it could become a harmful and pervasive belief entirely under the radar.


If the damaging social effects of eugenics aren’t frightening enough, research indicates that eugenics is scientifically misinformed. The essential ideals of eugenics are based on scientific racism or pseudoscience and are discredited by scientific findings (NHGRI, 2022). The basis of eugenics is to protect people with perceived ‘good genes’ from extinction, and to promote their genes to the future generation. Ironically, eugenics goes directly against its main objectives.


Eugenics discourages certain phenotypes from reproducing, promoting one kind of human. This is detrimental to genetic diversity, which does more harm than good for humanity. Gibson (2018) noted that, “Disease protection is among the most well-supported consequences of genetic diversity in populations.” With a lack of genetic variation, humanity is limited and cannot adapt to our ever-changing environment, ultimately making us more vulnerable to extinction and disease. In the words of Sear (n.d), “Eugenics really is ideology, not science.”


Modern-day eugenics is a concept with disturbing potential in today’s world. Every joke resembling eugenic ideals of the past threatens to normalize harm. Those portrayed as dangerous by modern-day eugenics are often the ones who live in constant fear of the society that targets them. 


Understanding the past is crucial to preventing the ever-present resurgence of eugenics. Although we’ve improved, we still have work to do. Eugenics hasn’t been removed from our laws, our systems, or our opinions. It’s “the very foundation of our current cultural mindset and our present modes of thinking, being, and doing” (“Historical Chronology”, 2021-2024, p. 3). We need to address the recent rise of eugenics, especially online, and tackle our obsession with “the ideal human.” Maybe our pursuit of human perfection has obscured our appreciation for humanity.


Editor's Note:


The following article reflects the views & analysis of the author. As with all opinion and essay submissions, the piece has been edited for clarity and reviewed carefully for factual accuracy, but the interpretations & arguments are the author’s own. The 44 North publishes an array of perspectives & voices to encourage and ensure thoughtful engagement with complex social, political, historical, and cultural issues.



References


Temi Jolaawo is a volunteer, community leader, and 11th-grade student who attends Nanaimo Christian School in BC, Canada. As a recent volunteer for Island Health, Temi Jolaawo is actively committed to nurturing her interests in public health and social issues/justice. Temi currently enjoys playing sports, listening to music, and making art. Through the art non-profit she founded, “CreationStationNanaimo,” she shares her love for art and creativity with various children in the community.


by Sylphia Basak for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics



Editor's Note:


The following article reflects the views & analysis of the author. As with all opinion and essay submissions, the piece has been edited for clarity and reviewed carefully for factual accuracy, but the interpretations & arguments are the author’s own. The 44 North publishes an array of perspectives & voices to encourage and ensure thoughtful engagement with complex social, political, historical, and cultural issues.


"And perhaps the microcosm of FIFA acts as a stand-in for the political climate, where we're still rooting for the underdog to win against evil, against the impossible odds."

To so many around the world, the beauty of football (soccer) is its democracy. From the grass fields of England to the barrios of Brazil and the sandy back alleys of Morocco, the simplicity in its setup—a ball, an open patch of land, and two markers for goals—allows it to be a meritocratic sport where anyone can find themselves on the world’s stage, regardless of country, race, or class. Seemingly, the only prerequisites are hard work and perhaps a touch of talent. The unparalleled accessibility for both players and spectators has arguably made soccer one of, if not the, most universal sports, gathering billions of players and adoring fans in parks and stadiums across the globe. At the peak of FIFA 2026, there’s an undeniable sense of unity and community ritual as bars draw crowds that spill onto the street. Everyone seems to be in a flurry of doom and uncertainty: For a few months, they believe that their team—and by extension themselves, the underdog—can win in a world that feels like a magnet for loss.  


But how does that cultural and democratic ideal hold up within the institution of the sport?


FIFA, the Fédération Internationale de Football Association, has served as the global governing body for football since 1904. As described by one Reddit user, FIFA is essentially “the UN of football”—a unifying council designed for nations to confer with one another beyond the nitty-gritty of bi-partisan politics. 


FIFA’s statutes explicitly state that the soccer governing body must remain “neutral in matters of politics and religion.” However, the 2026 World Cup series has proven itself inseparable from the social, political, and literal climate it’s operating under. 

 

After Iran’s elimination from the first round of 48 countries, many have called out the treatment of the team, alleging that certain matches were rigged in order to eliminate them from the playoffs. Further, they’ve pointed out biased questions from the press and the circumstances within which they were allowed to play in the United States.


Several countries, including Iran, struggled to obtain the necessary visas to attend matches, both spectators and teams alike. 


“We can’t wait to welcome soccer fans from all over the globe,” the U.S. State Department’s website reads, quoting President Donald Trump. However, the White House's rules on who can enter the country vary widely depending on the travellers’ country of origin. At least four competing countries—Haiti, Iran, the Ivory Coast, and Senegal—are subject to a full travel ban (which affects tourists but not players), and a handful of others must undergo heightened screening to enter the country (Council of Foreign Relations).


The compromise for the Iranian team was for them to stay in Tijuana, Mexico, while competing in their matches on U.S. soil. This meant a four-hour flight and TSA security protocol between each game, leaving them exhausted and lacking the presumably crucial rest and practice between matches. Despite this, Iran never lost a game. Having tied each, they were eliminated by the Algeria and Austria draw, which theorists on X point to being fixed. In the same vein, Muslim spectators in America were harassed and assaulted, including women having their hijabs torn off, according to Novara Media.


Following the matches, press conferences also seemed to veer into politics for players and coaching staff of the Global South. Such was the case when a reporter asked the Iranian captain directly about their views on LGBTQ+ rights (a tactic known as ‘pinkwashing,’ wherein queer or women’s rights and lack thereof are used to propagate Western hegemony and justify foreign intervention in the Global South). The assumption—that many speculate the (American) reporter was making by asking the Iranian captain his views on LGBTQ+ rights—was that he would provide an incendiary (negative) opinion which could then be used to delegitimize a favourable view of Iran or the Iranian people, while the American team, and by extension, America, would be positioned as the morally superior of the two nations. The Iranian captain gave a heartwarming response regarding his and his team’s acceptance of all, alongside a reminder of why they were there: To play football. While reassuring to hear the Iranian teams’ welcoming attitudes toward Queer people, many have rightfully pointed out the blatant double standard in this line of questioning;


Not only is this line of questioning a violation of FIFA’s “apolitical” policy, but an argument could be made that it should be extended to all nations, including and perhaps especially America, as one of this year’s FIFA hosts. Why should one team be questioned on the state of human rights in their country while the American team hasn’t been questioned about their views on the Trump administration’s deployment of ICE in civilian communities, alongside its rollbacks on LGBTQ+ rights and protections?


Of course, the FIFA World Cup is unfolding amid the US/Israeli war on Iran, as well as Israel’s continued genocide and ethnic cleansing campaigns in Palestine and Lebanon, largely funded by the United States. America was still allowed to host, and Israel, though not securing a playoff spot, was still allowed into FIFA stadiums, while the Russian team has been banned since 2022, citing Russian leader Vladimir Putin’s war crimes in Ukraine. Despite arrest warrants via the International Criminal Court (ICC) for both Putin and Israel’s leader, Benjamin Netanyahu, only one nation remains banned from FIFA. 


In the wake of Cape Verde and Egypt’s losses against Argentina, discourse has arisen online regarding seemingly biased treatment toward the Argentinian team, resulting in a deliberate reconfiguring of rules to give them an advantage on the field. In a video circulating online, there appear to be multiple instances of the Argentinian team flouting rules and injuring their opponents, which were ignored by the referee. There have been extensive efforts to remove this video from social media, which has been cited as further evidence of more institutional bias.


Legacy news outlets such as BBC and TSN have reported these losses as “bad luck,” however, to many, it has become increasingly hard to ignore the glaring disparities in how certain teams have been treated, and the deliberate-seeming attempts at ensuring Africa and West Asia didn’t have a chance at playing in the finals, regardless of talent. 


Even before entering the field, Haiti had also experienced discrimination; FIFA banned their initial jersey design, citing their increasingly selective “political” label. While FIFA didn't elaborate on which components of the jersey were deemed problematic, the issue almost certainly stemmed from the small image of a group of people holding the Haitian flag that appeared on the right hip of the jersey. A spokesperson for the team confirmed an image depicting the Battle of Vertières and independence heroes raising the Haitian flag, commemorating the Haitian revolt against slavery, apparently “too political” for FIFA (The Conversation). 


Via ESPN
Via ESPN

This year’s FIFA World Cup, more so than other years in recent memory, has put on the global stage the financial and social disparities between European and North American teams and teams from the Global South. Undoubtedly, the significant sponsorships that Western teams are often more privy to greatly support their athletic performance. Coupled with likely favour from FIFA, it has become clear to many that not all nations are given the same starting line, and that this may be more deliberate than we as spectators have been led to believe. The Global South is once again in a position of playing socioeconomic matches before they even step on tournament turf, while Western teams are not only uplifted by sponsorships but, alongside their fans, act as though their success rate is a matter of talent, meritocracy, and superiority. As one X user says; 


FIFA, like all global institutions, cannot be exempt from the climate in which they exist. Apoliticism in the context of active genocides amounts to tone-deaf complicity and ignorance, and it becomes particularly insidious when covert colonial ideology seeps into institutions like FIFA via their treatment of people who fall outside of Western hegemony. 


As spectators, we must reckon with yet another form of reappropriating liberal ideals of diversity and unity to essentially minimize and obfuscate the current reality of imperialism manifesting itself, even within the game. 


So who gets to be a champion?


Such is the ask of any institution under capitalism. The essence of sport and art—and why we feel drawn to watching the greats and rooting for unexpected underdogs—is degraded when they’re married to systems rooted in the oppression of others. Ultimately, there’s no way for those systems to avoid absorbing the manifestations of colonialism, racism, sexism, etc., because these are the foundations on which many institutions—even beloved cultural icons such as FIFA—have been built upon. Diversity within these structures can then easily become another form of tokenism. Despite this, the talent of athletes in the global south shines through and holds its own against bias from the top down. And perhaps the microcosm of FIFA acts as a stand-in for the political climate, where we're still rooting for the underdog to win against evil, against the impossible odds. 


Sylphia Basak is a journalist/writer and activist who uses a variety of mediums to convey the story she wants to tell. Her work prioritizes a decolonial lens, and seeks to counteract and analyze Western media and culture as a way of highlighting the primary contradictions of the current political climate.


by Farhaan Batchkhan for The 44 North, Guest Writer


A sneak peek of our live event, Beyond Words. Please stay tuned for the event recording, photos, and more! Photo above by Cal Campos (The Quiet / Cal Campos Media). IG: @calvin.campos.
A sneak peek of our live event, Beyond Words. Please stay tuned for the event recording, photos, and more! Photo above by Cal Campos (The Quiet / Cal Campos Media). IG: @calvin.campos.

"Silence, I’ve realized, is its own kind of language.

We’ve all heard it. 


The quick deflection after a slur slips out, after someone mimics an accent for laughs, after a name is butchered one too many times and met with giggles instead of correction: 


“Relax, it was just a joke,” or “Chill out, it wasn’t that deep.”


But there’s something we don’t say: Those words aren’t light. They’re heavy. They’re tiny cuts that accumulate until belonging feels conditional, until you begin editing yourself before you even speak.


As a Grade 11 student in Pickering, Ontario, I’ve watched this scene rewind and repeat in our hallways, cafeterias, and classrooms. A classmate from Tunisia once told me that he stopped introducing himself with his full name after hearing that someone turned it into a meme. Another friend, whose family immigrated from Jamaica, said she learned to laugh along when people called her hair “wild” or “unprofessional,” not because it didn’t hurt, but because calling it out felt riskier than staying silent.


Silence, I’ve realized, is its own kind of language.


When teachers allow racist comments to slide—to “avoid tension”—they’re teaching us what’s tolerable. When students shrug off microaggressions as “not a big deal,” they’re reinforcing a hierarchy of whose dignity matters. Language doesn’t exist in isolation; it shapes what we normalize, what we challenge, and ultimately, who feels safe enough to show up as themselves.


Addressing racist language isn’t just about individual slurs; it’s about how anti-Black language functions systemically, whether embedded in jokes, nicknames, assumptions about intelligence, discipline disparities, or who’s labelled “disruptive” instead of “passionate.” I’ve witnessed Black students reprimanded for raising their voices in debate while others are praised for the same energy. I’ve heard phrases like “ghetto” or “acting Black” tossed around like harmless slang—never questioned. 


For a long time, I told myself I wasn’t part of the problem because I never used those words nor the tone that most often accompanies them. But neutrality isn’t innocence. There were moments I remained quiet when I should’ve spoken, not out of malice, but fear. I was afraid of being labelled “too sensitive,” afraid of making things awkward, and afraid that my voice wouldn’t change anything anyway. That’s the trap: We wait for someone braver, louder, more “qualified” to step in, while harm continues unchecked.


Real courage, I’ve learned, isn’t just confrontation but rather curiosity. It’s asking why certain words are used so casually in some spaces and not others. It’s wondering who benefits when we dismiss pain as “over-sensitivity.” And it’s having the humility to admit when we’ve been part of the problem—even when unintentionally. Vulnerability means saying, “I messed up,” or “I didn’t know, but I want to learn.” It means listening when someone says, “That hurt,” instead of rushing to defend your intent.


This work doesn’t just fall on students. Everyone holds responsibility.


  • Teachers must interrupt harmful language in real time, not days, weeks, or months later. Not vaguely, but clearly: “That word carries pain. We don’t use it here.”

  • Administrators must ensure disciplinary policies don’t punish Black students more harshly for the same infractions.

  • Peers must move beyond passive allyship (“I’m not racist”) to active co-conspiratorship (“I won’t let racism happen in front of me”).


But accountability without repair is empty. What happens after the harm? Too often, nothing. The student who was mocked goes home carrying shame. The student who spoke the slur faces no consequence—or worse, becomes a martyr for “free speech.”


I dream of a school where repair is built into our culture. Imagine if, instead of detention slips, we have restorative circles after harmful language is used—spaces where everyone can share how they’re impacted and collaboratively decide how to rebuild trust. Imagine student-led workshops where we unpack the history behind certain slurs or explore how language shapes identity across cultures.


Belonging shouldn’t be a poster on the wall; it should be the air we breathe when we walk into class.


Building that world requires structural change, but it also starts small. It starts with one person choosing to interrupt a “joke” with “Actually, that’s not funny.” It starts with a teacher pausing mid-lesson to say, “Let’s talk about why that word carries pain.” It starts with students like me admitting when we’ve stayed silent alongside a commitment to do better.


Words shape worlds. And if we believe schools should be places where every student feels seen, valued, and safe—especially Black students, whose joy and brilliance are too often policed by language—then we have to treat words like the powerful force they are.


The future I’m fighting for isn’t perfect. People will still stumble, misunderstand, and hurt each other. But in that future, we won’t hide behind “It was just a joke.” We’ll choose courage over comfort, vulnerability over defensiveness, and repair over silence.


And maybe, just maybe, that’s how we build a world worth belonging to.


Farhaan Batchkhan is a Grade 11 student, aspiring physician, and community leader from Pickering, Ontario. With more than 1,000 volunteer hours, he has been actively involved in tutoring, youth mentorship, sports coaching, healthcare, and student leadership. His experiences as a youth advisory member for multiple non-profits, a volunteer, and an advocate have strengthened his commitment to helping others and promoting educational opportunities for young people. Fluent in French and English, Farhaan is passionate about medicine, community engagement, and empowering the next generation through service and leadership.


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