Shock filled the room. The student, confused and humiliated, quietly gathered her belongings and walked out. The professor then turned to the class and asked, “Why did none of you stand up for your colleague, someone who was clearly treated unjustly?”
Silence. That was the lesson. As future defenders of justice, they were reminded that injustice, anywhere and at any time, demands courage, not silence. As Martin Luther King Jr. once said,“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
And as Albert Einstein warned, “The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything.” The world we live in is not so different from that classroom.
In this article, I introduce the term kalibafication, a coined expression to describe a pattern of covert abuse. It refers to a situation where someone consistently mistreats another person in private while carefully maintaining a virtuous image in public. The abuser appears kind, calm, and even admirable to outsiders.
Meanwhile, the real victim is isolated, often pushed to emotional reactions born from pain. Those reactions are then used against them. They are labeled as difficult, unstable, or problematic while the abuser’s reputation remains intact. Over time, reality is distorted. The truth is reversed. And the victim’s voice is dismissed or doubted.
Growing up, there was a couple in our neighborhood. The husband regularly beat his wife. This was known. But what people didn’t immediately understand was how the abuse worked. He would insult and humiliate her inside the house, then step outside smiling, calm, and composed.
Meanwhile, she, overwhelmed with pain, would cry, shout, or react emotionally. To outsiders, she appeared unstable. He appeared reasonable. For a long time, people believed she was the problem.
Even when some began to understand the truth, their response was passive: Be patient.That’s marriage. He is the head of the family. Stay for the children. No one held the man accountable. And so, the abuse continued, protected not just by the abuser, but by silence.
This pattern doesn’t only exist in homes. It exists in offices, institutions, and communities. Take the case of Sarah. Smart, disciplined, and driven, she joined a reputable organization. It seemed like an opportunity but it became a trap.
Her supervisor was widely known to be difficult. Several people before her had already resigned. But Sarah was determined. She committed to excellence, patience, and resilience. She believed that hard work and integrity would protect her.
They didn’t. Her supervisor constantly undermined her. Privately criticizing, intimidating, and emotionally exhausting her, while maintaining a polished and respectable image in public. He minimized her achievements and exaggerated her smallest mistakes.
Colleagues sympathized but from a distance: Be patient. Stay strong. Pray. Advice is always easier to give than to live. Over time, Sarah became emotionally drained. The things she once loved; sports, travel, reading, etc. no longer brought her peace. She tried other things like yogaand dancing classes to cope, but nothing worked.
Until one day, after hours of silent tears in her office, she made a decision: She chose herself. She resigned. Not because she was weak, but because staying would have broken her further.
The most troubling part is that people like Sarah’s supervisor often remain untouched. Not because their behavior is unknown, but because it is tolerated. There is a saying often attributed to Humphrey Bogart: “People sympathize with the underdog, but follow the top dog.”
Too often, authority is mistaken for leadership. Many in positions of power are not leaders or mentors, but manipulators driven by ego, insecurity, or control. They prioritize status over purpose, and image over integrity. And because their abuse happens behind closed doors, it becomes easy to deny and even easier to ignore.
We see kalibafication everywhere: In families, where abuse is hidden behind cultural expectations. In workplaces, where toxic authority goes unchecked. In religious spaces, where influence is misused. And in communities, where truth is sacrificed for comfort.
Yet we stay silent. Sometimes, because it doesn’t affect us directly. Sometimes, because we fear conflict. Sometimes, because speaking up has a cost. But silence is never neutral. It protects the abuser.
If we do not challenge injustice, whether in private or in public, we allow it to grow. And eventually, it reaches us. The question is not whether injustice exists. The question is: Will we speak or act when we see it? Because until we choose courage over comfort, and truth over convenience, kalibafication will continue, unseen, unchallenged, and undefeated.
For three years, Sarah endured in silence, steadfast, disciplined, and courageous in a system that rewarded her suffering with neglect. She remained patient until patience became self-erasure.
She eventually resigned, like others before her, while the source of the harm stayed in power. Until we actively confront and reject workplace injustice, dream killers will continue to thrive under the cover of authority.
