Copyright Star Tribune
Once upon a time, in a country that prided itself on freedom, a group of young political leaders gathered on their devices. They didn’t meet in a hall or behind closed doors. They met in the digital quiet of a private chat, trading messages they thought would stay hidden. They talked about power and loyalty, but their words carried the weight of something darker. They joked about gas chambers and slavery as if cruelty were wit. They spoke of hate as if it were heritage. But as in all moral tales, there was a turn. The secrecy they trusted betrayed them, and their own words escaped into the light. Thousands of messages from the Young Republican leaders poured into public view, each one a window into the decay that pride and power can breed. Many in the nation looked on in disbelief. But some of us were not surprised. We know that this kind of darkness rarely hides for long. It always finds its way into the open, dressed as humor, defended as irony and excused as “just a joke.” Every generation is given a moral test. For Gen Z, ours is learning what decency means while watching others abandon it. The Young Republican scandal is not simply a story of private corruption or reckless words. It is a study in what happens when moral restraint collapses and cruelty becomes the language of belonging. These were not nameless agitators shouting from the edges. They are the self-declared heirs to a movement that long ago began to mistake mockery for strength. Their laughter was not harmless. It was rehearsal. Among the thousands of messages was one that read, “Everyone that votes no is going to the gas chamber.” The words landed like a confession. It was not simply the cruelty of what was said, but the ease with which it was written that revealed something deeper. There was no hesitation, no shame, only the casual certainty of people who had grown accustomed to mistaking power for permission. For many of us, this is not new. We have seen public cruelty take shape long before it appeared in that chat. We have seen how laughter becomes license, and how license becomes policy. When people in power learn that hate can win applause, they no longer whisper it; they build campaigns around it. What began as a private indulgence now writes the laws that govern our lives. And yet, as this scandal broke, it was not cable news that shaped Gen Z’s response. It was TikTok. Creators like Harry Sisson calmly read the leaked texts and matched the names to faces, reminding viewers that these are the next generation of Republican leaders. WeAreVondale addressed the hypocrisy of those who claim to be driven by “values.” Dezzy4Prez spoke with raw fury, naming what many of us already knew in our bones, that these private words reflect a public truth about a party that has normalized cruelty and called it conviction. These voices are not just entertainment. They are the moral commentary of a generation that refuses to be gaslit. This moment also meets a political reality that is already shifting. Even before these revelations, President Donald Trump’s approval rating among young voters had fallen 35 points since last year, according to one analysis. The drop has been steepest among young voters of color, particularly young Hispanic voters who once considered giving him a chance. For many, this scandal only confirms what they already sensed: that the party of Trump has chosen its path, one that demands allegiance to anger and obedience to hate. A political movement cannot build a future while despising the very people meant to live in it. In every story, there comes a moment when the lead character must decide what lesson to carry forward. For Gen Z, that moment is now. We are watching leaders speak of justice while excusing injustice, preach about faith while mocking compassion and claim to defend life while tolerating violence that ends it. Here in Minnesota and across the country, we have seen children shot in schools and families torn apart, yet still, many young people rise each morning believing the story can be rewritten. We are not waiting for permission to hope. We are writing our own lesson, that the measure of a nation is not in the power it protects, but in the humanity it preserves. If the Trump years have given Gen Z anything, it is clarity. We see the truth of what is said in private and we recognize it as the same truth shaping policy in public. These lessons have come painfully. They have also come early in our lives and they will define us for decades. Because unlike those who still laugh at hate, we will not forget what we’ve seen. We can’t. We’ve lived it. If this story ends as all moral stories should, it will not end with laughter of Young Republicans echoing in power. It will end with a generation that chooses decency over cruelty, truth over convenience and justice over fear. That is how this story finds its better ending.
