Understanding Society’s Approach to Violence and Morality

In today’s world, there’s often a tendency to attribute baffling motivations—especially in cases of extreme violence—to mental illness. This seems reasonable when we consider something as gruesome as a serial killer’s actions; their brutality can seem so alien that we feel compelled to find an explanation rooted in psychological anomalies.

However, this same reasoning is sometimes applied to differences in political beliefs. For example, views on topics like abortion or attitudes towards certain groups can appear so shocking that people might jump to the conclusion that only a mental defect could explain them. Yet, there’s another possibility—people can simply hold vastly different values, leading them to pursue what others consider morally wrong.

Our disagreements do not stem from mental disorders but rather from fundamentally different beliefs about right and wrong.

This notion can be uncomfortable for many, as it suggests that political adversaries aren’t irrational. In fact, they are quite sane and may truly oppose you and your interests.

In our modern, sophisticated society, there’s often a reluctance to use language that implies objective truths. When we talk about evil, it brings to mind old religious frameworks, strict school teachers, or medieval interpretations of human behavior.

With all our advancements, we’ve cultivated an understanding of the world based on concrete, material evidence. There’s a temptation to reduce human behavior to mere mechanical failures of the brain, which leads to the belief that evil doesn’t exist—only mental illness does.

Interestingly, Americans often assume that their values, beliefs, and habits represent a universal blueprint for humanity. The thought is that if others had rational minds, they would naturally arrive at the same conclusions.

When faced with individuals who hold starkly different views, it’s easy to dismiss them as having some sort of cognitive failing. We tend to engage in debates, hoping logic will reveal the flaws in their arguments. Yet, when discussions fail, we may instinctively label them with various mental pathologies as a way to explain their divergence.

This tendency reflects our broader fixation on material explanations and our desire to sidestep genuine conflict.

Liberalism has long promoted the idea that it reduces violent disputes by steering clear of existential questions. Matters like God’s existence or what the ultimate good might be are critical yet could incite dangerous confrontations. These queries are inherently divisive.

People are known to fight fervently over such beliefs, so it’s often seen as prudent to focus instead on shared interests, like economic growth and improving living standards.

While the drive to minimize violence stemming from religious and identity-related conflicts is understandable, the solution isn’t without its compromises. Historically, the emphasis on financial collaboration has offered genuine benefits, yet, it often doesn’t provide lasting resolutions.

We may wish to believe we’ve outgrown these primitive impulses, but they lurk beneath our surface, still shaping our identities. Conflicts won’t simply vanish, and as they resurface, society may find itself ill-equipped to confront them. We are witnessing this reality unfold today.

Americans are increasingly lacking the moral vocabulary to discuss right and wrong, so they default to clinical diagnoses for those they oppose. It’s far less challenging to view the radical left as mentally deranged than to contemplate the unsettling possibility that they might have rational reasons for their differing views. If progressives were genuinely sane but still sought extreme measures regarding children without malice, everything would shift regarding how we consider their actions.

Disagreements can be ignored when both groups align on moral principles and goals. However, starkly contrasting ideas about good and evil—or when groups pursue fundamentally opposing outcomes—render rational debate ineffective.

If our differences derive from genuine beliefs and not mental illness, then a disconcerting reality surfaces. When logical discussion fails, we revert to methods employed by earlier societies: ultimately, one group must prevail while the other must concede.

In the best scenario, this may lead to one faction imposing its will on another. In the worst, it could result in violence until one side is too exhausted to continue their struggle.

This context moves us back towards a more existential framing of politics. The focus shifts from mundane issues like tax rates to matters of survival.

It’s crucial to emphasize that while mental health issues do exist and can influence political views, the notion that half the population is irrational simply because they disagree with you is absurd. The situation is much graver. It reveals we are, in essence, two distinct societies cohabiting the same nation, each with irreconcilable perspectives on morality and purpose.

The liberal framework’s supposed neutrality allowed these disparities to grow quietly, but they have now reached a point too pronounced to overlook. Each side maintains coherent, consistent worldviews, yet they are fundamentally incompatible.

Ultimately, one side will triumph over the other, enforcing its lifestyle upon the defeated. This truth cannot be ignored; downplaying it by attributing it to mental illness only leads to further confusion.