The Road to Extremism Is Paved with the Good Intentions of the Just
Excerpt from the Second Chapter of Coddled Children
"Empires rise and fall, and stars glitter in the sky for thousands of years, but nothing is so enduring as hatred."
In the second chapter of Coddled Children, I explore the roots of radicalization. In my opinion, radicalization doesn’t happen overnight. No one is born an extremist. People are shaped by their experiences—by being ignored, dismissed, and cast aside until they no longer see another way. Radicalization is therefore not a spontaneous transformation but a reaction to a hostile environment that refuses to listen to their words, that denies context and specific circumstance, and that deletes any perspective that does not align with ‘the right opinion’.
We like to think of radicals as if they appeared out of nowhere, disconnected from reality. Deplorables. Lost causes. People beyond reason, beyond redemption. But do we ever think to ask: How did they get there? How much rejection, how much humiliation, how much isolation does it take before someone crosses a line?
Radicalization doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It’s easy to point at extremists, but do we ever look at the role we play? What happens when we systematically silence dissent, when we brand all opposition as dangerous, when we ridicule and ostracize those who dare to think differently? We don’t fight extremism that way—we feed it! We create the very enemies we claim to stand against.
In The Last Straw, I explore how a system that claims to be inclusive can, in reality, drive radicalization. The pursuit of absolute equality, without regard for context or circumstances, inevitably creates outsiders. And when people are no longer heard, they will find a way to make themselves heard.
The following excerpt captures this process. It shows how frustration turns into fury, how the search for justice hardens into a single-minded resolve—one that leaves no room for humanity.
That night, Rupert lies awake, unable to sleep. Like his nephew, he’s spent his whole life longing for a connection with the opposite sex. Simon has never seen a woman up close, but Rupert remembers. Before the nuclear war, he’d already suffered through eight years of rejection. Sure, he wasn’t exactly handsome with his thinning hair, bushy eyebrows, stocky build, and crooked teeth.
But I was kind, loyal, smart, thoughtful, even funny. All those things women always said were important.
For the girls he grew up with, none of it mattered. He wasn’t attractive enough, not interesting enough, not rich enough. He made too many clever remarks, cracked too many awkward jokes. And sure, he was always right. But how could he help that? That was just the way he was!
When the war broke out, Rupert dared to hope. Maybe if he worked hard, helped build the dome, someone would finally see his worth. But no. The socialists came instead.
They made us do all the work. While my buddies died one by one from radiation, THEY stood there whining, complaining about how THEY were the oppressed ones. Lazy bastards! They took everything from us, threw us in a ghetto and enslaved us!
A groan escapes Rupert’s throat as his heart shatters once again. He covers his tear-filled eyes with his arm.
And now? Now all the good years are behind me! And why? Because for some people, it’s never good enough. That’s why!
The rage takes hold, consuming the sorrow. He’s back in the familiar fantasy: the sword of justice in his hands, cutting down each and every one of those socialists, dragging them to the gates of hell where God will cast His judgment upon them.
We’ll keep some of the younger ones: re-educate them, rebuild with them. But those old hags won’t escape their fate!
No open flames are allowed in the Free Nations, but in his mind, the pyres blaze high.
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