Project Vision 21

What the return of the word abomination reveals about our collective disconnection

After receiving a message from an acquaintance calling “an abomination” the recent results of an election at a major American city, I couldn’t help thinking about what that word really means and why it appears now so frequently in many conversations. The comment itself revealed something deeper than just politics, giving us a glimpse into the loneliness that seems to haunt our time.

According to a recent report by the American Psychological Association, most Americans (in fact, most people) feel lonely and disconnected. Loneliness isn’t just the absence of company: it’s the absence of meaningful connection. And when a society becomes divided and fragmented, that sense of disconnection can grow so deep that it begins to shape our language.

The word abomination doesn’t describe disagreement, it erases it. It draws a moral line that says, “People like that shouldn’t exist inside my world.” Anthropologists remind us that what we call “abominable” is often simply something that doesn’t fit our familiar categories. In ancient times, it referred to foods, rituals, or behaviors that seemed “out of place.” Today, it resurfaces when social change blurs the boundaries that once made people feel secure.

History shows that this isn’t new. During the Reformation, Protestants and Catholics accused each other of abominations. Later, during the Industrial Revolution, critics used the same word to describe the rise of factories and machines that seemed to devour traditional life. Each time society stood at a threshold, the word abomination was called upon to mark the fear of crossing that threshold.

We’re living through another such moment. Technology, globalization, and cultural diversity are changing how we understand belonging and identity. For many, this transformation is exciting and hopeful. For others, it feels like losing the ground beneath their feet. When fear meets loneliness, language often hardens.

Strong words like evil or abomination become shields against uncertainty. They offer a temporary sense of control, a way to turn the unease of disconnection into moral certainty. But those words come at a cost. By turning people into symbols of what we fear, we cut ourselves off from the possibility of understanding them.

And here’s the irony: when we hear a word like abomination, we might think of something monstrous or mythical—perhaps the Abominable Snowman, that legendary creature haunting the icy edges of human imagination.

The real monster is not out there in the snow. It’s in our words when they lose their warmth and compassion. Yet there’s a paradox hidden here. Every time a society reaches for words like abomination, it signals not only fear but also the birth of something new. What was once seen as “out of place” may, in time, reveal a new dimension of the human story.

Therefore, when we recognize that our divisions are symptoms of isolation, a new possibility appears: the chance to rebuild community through empathy instead of fear.