Bully – A person who habitually seeks to harm or intimidate those they perceive as vulnerable. (definition according to Google/Oxford Languages)

I know something about bullies. I was introduced to the fine art of bullying at an early age. A close circle of friends in elementary school was constantly disrupted by one member who sought to divide us. She pitted the five of us against each other in various combinations, leaving at least one person out of fun activities on any given day. It was an equal-opportunity venture where we each got a turn at being the victim while she savoured the fruits of dominance.

Adventures in bullying didn’t end in the playground. They continued on the school bus. A boorish middle-schooler liked to prey upon the “little kids.” Each day, he would scan the seats and choose his victim. He had a knack for targeting the most vulnerable among us. We each got a turn in the never-ending cycle of abuse, primarily verbal, but sometimes with an added dose of shoving.  

My high school years unfolded without incident, with civility and maturity. At least, that’s what I thought until the final half of my senior year. Two male classmates went on a wrecking rampage during lunch break one day. They smashed and destroyed most of the binders and notebooks left behind on classroom desks. Everyone knew who did this. The culprits brazenly laughed and bragged about it.

One of these offenders was popular with his fellow students, and many felt he should be protected. I did not. So, when the high school principal questioned us individually, I readily provided him with the guilty parties’ names. I made no secret of this as I firmly believed (and still do) that it was the right decision.

My decision bore torturous consequences. For the rest of the school year, I was yelled at, spit at, and called names by my classmates each time a teacher left the room. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t complain to anyone in authority. I just stared at the floor and prayed for the shouting to end. My parents had taught me to “turn the other cheek.” What good would it have done to shout back? I was outnumbered. If I had reported this behaviour, it would have escalated.

Those who didn’t participate in berating me stayed silent. Not one person, not even those I had counted as friends for most of my school years, stood by my side. This took a significant toll on my mental and emotional health.

I had always been a good student, but I sank into a depression, and my grades dropped. In the 1960s, no one talked about depression. If you felt despondent, the only solution was to “tough it out.” My mother was worried and asked if I would like to transfer to a school in Calgary for the rest of the school year. I declined as I, like many teenagers, felt that I could handle the situation. Outside of school, I had a caring group of friends, and I wanted to live at home in the final months before starting university in the big city. At least, I hoped to be accepted into university. If my grades continued to drop, how would I fare in upcoming departmental exams?  

I weathered some harsh, painful days until the end of the school year, and that left me with some scars. I guess we all have our fair share of those. Thankfully, I qualified for university studies, and a new chapter of my life unfolded. All was forgotten—or was it?

There are bullies everywhere. They are embodied in the unforeseen speed bumps of life’s journey, rearing their ugly heads in the workplace, social settings, and at society’s lowest and highest levels. It took me a long time to understand how to deal with bullies. But bullies are only part of the equation. The much bigger problem is learning how to identify and understand their enablers.

I have recently watched two award-winning movies that broach this subject. I’m Still Here immerses the audience in the brutal years of repression, torture and “the disappeared” during the Brazilian dictatorship of the 1970s. The Seed of the Sacred Fig takes us to Iran and powerfully illustrates the consequences of living in a society strangled by tyranny.

Now, in 2025, many of us have watched a video clip of U.S. President Trump and his minions openly bullying President Zelinsky of Ukraine. Right before our eyes, we saw President Zelinsky attempt to use polite, rational responses, only to be loudly and rudely interrupted while others sat silently and watched. Also, we have seen President Trump dismantling government services, rounding people up and deporting them on military airplanes, and threatening to take over other countries.

Trump won a democratic election, and the Iranian revolution and the Brazilian dictatorship were popular initially. All of this should be a stark wake-up call. Dictators and tyrants are the ultimate bullies. But they aren’t formed in a vacuum. They are enabled and borne to great heights by the ignorance, need, and blindness of those around them. Cunning and narcissistic, bullies perceive a need, an emptiness that needs to be filled, and then shape-shift into a righteous saviour. They promise to solve your problems with an iron fist. They will eliminate the “other,” give you more money and protect you in exchange for your worship.  

What can we do? I learned many years ago that turning the other cheek isn’t the answer.  Bullies are cowards who must be confronted and challenged at every turn. My high school years and years of working overseas also taught me that many people are in denial and would instead choose to support a bully rather than identify the behaviour and stand up for themselves or other victims. Even long after the damage is done, these same people take little or no responsibility for their actions or silence.

Bullies are in full force at the highest levels around the world right now. Ultimately, no one will be impervious to this creeping malevolence. If we are naïve enough to believe that bullies, tyrants and dictators are just exhibiting strength, protecting us, or “not serious,” we need to take a closer look. As one, we must raise our voices. Silence in the face of tyranny will be our greatest downfall.