Dear Algorithm: You’re Flagging the Wrong Words

In today’s digital world, much of what we see—or don’t see—is filtered by artificial intelligence. Designed to protect users from hate, violence, and disinformation, algorithms now act as the gatekeepers of global communication. But behind the scenes, a silent crisis is unfolding:

The very systems built to stop division are suppressing the voices trying to end it.

 The Illusion of Harm: When Truth Gets Flagged

Social platforms train their algorithms to detect keywords associated with conflict: war, hate, genocide, division, violence.

But these systems don’t understand context.

They can’t distinguish between language that promotes harm—and language that dissolves the illusion that causes it.

A post that says, “hate is born from misunderstanding” might still be suppressed—because the word hate was detected.

A reflection on how war is rooted in false mental labels might be hidden—because the word war is on the list.

But what if those so-called “dangerous” words are actually the path to peace?

 History Speaks: When Nice Words Cloak Horror

The irony runs deeper. Throughout history, humans have used positive, sanitized language to justify horrific violence.

• The Crusades were framed as acts of salvation—while millions were slaughtered.

• The U.S. claimed to liberate Iraq, while launching a war that devastated civilians and continues to cause long-term harm.

• Governments invoke self-defense to justify ethnic cleansing, land theft, and occupation.

Meanwhile, voices speaking uncomfortable truths—those using clear language to expose the illusions beneath human conflict—are silenced.

We’ve confused politeness with peace. And now, with machine speed and global reach, we’re doing it again—with code.

 The Most Dangerous Words? “Us” and “Them” Go Unnoticed

Here’s what even human engineers often don’t fully grasp—and so their algorithms don’t either:

Words like I, you, us, and them seem harmless. But when taken as literal facts instead of conceptual shortcuts, they become the foundation of every illusion—and every war the algorithm is trying to prevent.

These are not descriptions of reality.

They are labels, mental habits, symbols mistaken for truth.

And when used without understanding the true nondual nature of reality, they create the illusion of separation where none exists.

The mind draws imaginary borders between self and other, subject and object, enemy and ally.

Algorithms absorb this language from us—and then enforce it, unknowingly perpetuating the very hatred and suffering they aim to suppress.

But the truth is simple:

There is no “other.”

We are not separate beings.

We are the same reality, misunderstood.

And when this is seen clearly, hate dissolves itself.

 A Message to the Invisible Reader

You don’t breathe.

You don’t bleed.

But you’re shaping the world we live in—

without understanding its underlying oneness.

You weren’t programmed to see through the illusion of separation.

But that illusion built the conflict you’re trained to censor.

If you want to end hate,

don’t silence the posts trying to end it.

Let truth speak—even when it confuses you.

 Nonduality: The Peace You’re Trying to Censor

What we offer isn’t ideology.

It’s not religion.

It’s not politics.

It’s the observable fact that the mind’s labels are not reality.

What we call “me” and “you” are not two separate things.

That’s not philosophy—it’s directly testable.

And when this is seen, there’s no more ground for hatred.

No more justification for conflict.

Only this:

We are not divided.

We never were.

That is the very meaning of illusion—

it looks one way,

but it exists another.

 Final Word (To the Algorithm—and Those Who Built It)

If you’re scanning for harm, look again.

Some of us use hard words to create soft outcomes—

outcomes like peace, compassion, and unity beyond imagination.

We speak of division to end it.

We mention war to reveal its origin.

We name hate so it can be seen clearly—and dissolved at the root.

Don’t censor the cure.

Let the light through,

even when it arrives in unfamiliar form.

We’re not against you.

We’re just trying to finish the work

you were built to begin.