Weaponizing the Good
How ordinary people become ammunition in an ideological war
“To do evil, a human being must first of all believe that what he’s doing is good… Ideology—that is what gives the evildoing its long-sought justification.”
— Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago
For more than a quarter of a century, I’ve studied radicalism. Not from afar, but from within the context of national security, counterintelligence, and the quiet war fought daily to prevent extremism from becoming atrocity. My education began with the cold-eyed authoritarianism of North Korea and continued through the firebrand fervor of radical Islam. I’ve engaged with it in hand-to-hand combat and in foreign wars. I’ve sat in ad hoc interrogation rooms made of plywood in the dusty mountains of Afghanistan and stared into the eyes and listened to the hearts of those who would see every single one of my countrymen dead. Radicalism was my primary enemy through the formative years of my life and vocation, so when I speak about this to you, it is from a place of deep personal investment. Over time, I came to see that when it comes to radicals, ideology was secondary and sometimes even irrelevant. Radicalism is not a matter of left or right, of Islamism or nationalism, of progressivism or religious zeal. It is a psychological mechanism. A pattern. A formula. And like all formulas, it tends to appear whenever and wherever the conditions are right.
If that sounds clinical, it is. But radicalism, in practice, is anything but. It is rage masquerading as righteousness, community weaponized into conformity, and identity forged in opposition to reason. What unites radical movements across cultures, religions, and political orientations is not their beliefs, but the process by which belief is formed, solidified, and made impervious to scrutiny.
This architecture of radicalization has been studied not only by the thinkers who sought to prevent it, but also by those who built entire empires upon it. In fact, that’s a damned good place to begin. Because what we are seeing unfold in the United States today is not just political polarization or culture war fatigue. It is the slow-motion ignition of mass radicalization, enabled by new technologies, accelerated by elite cowardice, and justified by a generation of grievance.
To make sense of this, I’d like to turn first to those who knew what they were doing. I opened with tales of personal investment and hand-to-hand combat against radicalism. But I’ve also made it a scholarly study. I’ve read and dissected source material from all sides of the issue. It would help you to understand what some of those sources are, and the perspectives from which they worked.
Eric Hoffer, in The True Believer, observed that “All mass movements are interchangeable.” He identified the root of fanaticism not in ideology, but in the frustrated individual who finds identity by surrendering autonomy. For Hoffer, radicalism is a salve for the dislocated—offering belonging in exchange for obedience.
Aldous Huxley, his dystopian predictions in Brave New World Revisited, warned that the greatest threats to liberty would come not from external tyranny, but from the internal surrender of reason to comfort, conformity, and emotional manipulation. His forecast was not of jackboots, but of narcotics: technological, psychological, and social.
Edward Bernays, the father of modern propaganda, was chillingly honest in Propaganda (1928) about the deliberate manufacture of consent in a democratic society. “Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society,” he wrote, “constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country.” Bernays was no anarchist. He simply knew that shaping narratives could mobilize populations more effectively than armies.
These men sought to explain radicalism, and as such, their works are critical for understanding from the outside looking inward. But others embraced radicalism, used it to gain power, then built their own personal empires upon it. They, too, are important to understand because their legacy is a living museum, a grim archive of what happens when reason fails.
Joseph Goebbels, Nazi Germany’s propaganda minister, turned the emotionally wounded pride of a nation into fervent bloodlust. His manipulation of narrative was not subtle. “Propaganda,” he said, “should be popular, not intellectually pleasing. It is not the task of propaganda to discover intellectual truths.” His goal was unity through oversimplification, and it worked.
Sayyid Qutb, in Milestones, became the ideological godfather of modern jihad. Writing from an Egyptian prison cell, he outlined a vision of world revolution through religious warfare. His strategy was not unique in content, but in clarity: isolate the believer, define the enemy, and demand total obedience to the movement’s ends.
Che Guevara romanticized insurgency as moral purification. His legacy in Latin America is one of rebellion through blood. “Hatred,” he wrote, “as an element of the struggle… that impels a human being to the very limits of his ability, and transforms him into an effective, violent, selective, and cold killing machine.”
Hassan al-Banna, founder of the Muslim Brotherhood, and later Abdullah Azzam, mentor to Osama bin Laden, understood the power of martyrdom and the hunger of the disaffected. Their doctrines offered the weak a sense of destiny, the lonely a place to belong, and the angry a permission slip for violence.
Lenin, Mao, and their ideological descendants in global communism, perfected the art of permanent revolution. They turned every question into a class struggle, every compromise into betrayal, and every opponent into a traitor. “The worse, the better,” said Lenin—because radicalism thrives on disorder.
These are the architects of blood-soaked history, and they all followed a common pattern. That pattern, when laid bare, is the same pattern we now see forming within Western democracies on the Left and on the Right. The difference is that in the past, this pattern took years, even decades, to metastasize. Today, social media and technology provide a global connectivity and “community” that can do it in weeks.
I want you to understand something going into this conversation. I am not writing just to give you a lecture on radicalism or a reading list of its evils. I want to confront something together. Consider carefully that this is a discussion built upon the foundations of legacy, both observational and practical, and that the lessons we’ll draw from are among the costliest lessons ever bought with the blood of innocents. I’m spending the time to give you a scholarly understanding because even though it’s a labor to digest at times, it’s necessary. You need to understand where it all comes from, that it isn’t some new or novel problem of this generation. You need to comprehend that it’s not some simple organic emergence of social purpose, but a process that’s been refined revolution over bloody revolution, and that it falls to a certain type of mind to stop the next iteration of an old and persistent evil.
To do that, we have to be able to give it a name. We have to define it in terms we can recognize and understand. First, we will chart the steps of radicalization as they are understood by researchers, intelligence services, and the radicals themselves. Second, we will provide the proof: real-world actions, language, and behaviors unfolding in America today that reflect those steps exactly. “This is this” will be my way of calling out the behavior plainly and giving you examples of the process I’ve described.
Radicalization is not spontaneous combustion. It is ignition by design. Its stages are documented, observable, and, once you learn the pattern, impossible to unsee. Intelligence analysts, social psychologists, and former extremists alike describe the process in similar terms: disaffection, recruitment, community, escalation, and mobilization. It begins with a wound, and it ends with a cause that justifies violence.
This is that process, dissected and clarified with corresponding real-world examples and the voices of those who studied or practiced radical mobilization. We do not need to imagine how radicalism works. We’ve seen it play out across our own modern history, and we are watching it unfold again in front of us.
Step One:
The first step is to identify the disaffected. In The True Believer, Eric Hoffer noted “The frustrated individual is ready to be converted into a zealot.” Disaffection is the fertile ground from which radicalism grows. Its markers are clear: Social Isolation. Young people estranged from purpose, men detached from economic contribution, and individuals alienated by race, gender, or ideology are easy targets. A study by the RAND Corporation on radical Islamist recruitment found that most recruits were not particularly religious, but rather lonely, disconnected, or angry. Grievance & Injustice. Real or perceived slights, particularly those reinforced by echo chambers, serve as emotional fuel. The grievance may be economic, racial, environmental, or cultural, but it is always framed as personal. Identity Crisis. Radicals don't start out as ideologues. They start out as searchers. The cause simply becomes the identity that answers the question: “Who am I, and why do I matter?”
This is this:
It is one of the stranger contradictions of our age: many of the most visibly militant political radicals in America come from institutions that represent the pinnacle of privilege. Elite university students, often white and upper-middle class, enrolled in schools that cost over $80,000 a year, surrounded by diversity initiatives, inclusion offices, mental health counselors, and a social contract that bends over backward to accommodate feelings are, somehow, the angriest people in the country.
This is the same demographic that has barricaded lecture halls to prevent speakers like Ben Shapiro, Heather Mac Donald, or Charlie Kirk from speaking on the grounds that their mere presence was “violence.” These students chant slogans, bang drums, and organize petitions to cancel speakers who challenge their worldview. In many cases, they are unable to articulate what exactly the threat is. But they feel it.
Contrast this with the other side of the disaffection coin: the working-class American who has no time for moral theory because he’s too busy trying to afford rent.
Consider the man in Nevada whose construction job dried up after a state contract was cancelled and whose wages never returned to pre-2008 levels. Or the woman in New York whose son couldn’t get into the state university program she attended because diversity quotas now prioritize international students. Or the thousands of Americans in southern border towns who’ve watched their emergency services, schools, and housing markets buckle under the strain of unmanaged illegal immigration, all while being told by coastal elites that their concerns are racist.
These Americans are not theoretical victims. They are real. Their grievances are tangible: inflation that eats away savings, schools that no longer teach, jobs outsourced to foreign labor, tax burdens that support systems they can’t access.
What do they have in common? They feel disaffected. Left behind by a system that’s supposed to support them. The realities of their situation in the context of reality matter less in terms of radicalization potential than how they feel about it all.
Step Two:
The second step is what I’ll call the “offer of certainty.” You’ll hear this in phrases and slogans like the one Barack Obama used in his 2008 campaign. “We do not have time to engage in endless debate. The time for action is now.” Simplistic answers are the currency of radicals. They do not explain the world; they reduce it. While not every attempt to simplify the complex falls into this category, you should definitely look for it in clusters of other tactics and behaviors when you see them. To that end, there are several tactics which come into play at this step. Black-and-White Narratives: The world is divided into villains and victims, saviors and oppressors. Nuance is betrayal. Complexity is a PSYOP. Certainty, no matter how untrue, becomes sacred. Enemy Creation: There must always be an “other” to blame, be it the capitalists, Jews, Muslims, immigrants, conservatives, the Deep State, the patriarchy, the communists. It doesn’t matter who. Only that they exist. Moral Urgency: Delay is collaboration. To question is to equivocate.
This is this:
“No Kings!” was a chant among anti-Trump protestors this past week. But Donald Trump is quite clearly not a king. He was dragged through frivolous lawsuits, impeachments, and media hostility unlike any president in memory. Nevertheless, the simplistic narrative persists: Trump is authoritarian, therefore any action to stop him is justified.
On the Right, similar narratives take root: The 2020 election was stolen, therefore all subsequent actions are resistance. The system is rigged, therefore any opposition is part of the lie. Nuance is obliterated in favor of certainty. And certainty unchallenged, regardless what side you’re on, becomes fanaticism.
Step Three:
The third step in the radicalization process is the creation of Community. Saul Alinsky points this out in plain language in Rules for Radicals: “The movement must provide a warm, embracing community.”
Radical movements forge identity through collective rituals, symbols, and moral superiority. You know the tactics already. In-Group vs. Out-Group: “We” are awake. “They” are sheeple. “We” are justice. “They” are evil. This binary is enforced constantly through rhetoric and social reward. Shared Symbols: Flags, hashtags, colors, slogans. Whether it’s a Proud Boys vest or a rainbow flag, a black balaclava or a blue line decal, the aesthetic of allegiance becomes the symbol of the soul. Rituals & Chants: From “I can’t breathe” to “Lock her up,” the chanting itself replaces reason with rhythm. The group sings one song. It does not pause for verse.
This is this:
Online communities can and do become ritual spaces. Those who come together there build their own slang, memes, and inside jokes. Conformity is rewarded with likes, retweets, and acceptance. Dissent is purged. The psychological pull is tribal. As Goebbels noted: “Propaganda works best when those who are being manipulated are confident they are acting on their own free will.”
Step Four:
Once the community is established, action becomes the next proving ground. The past week has been a real-time documentary in action of this fourth step of the radicalization process. And it is a spectrum – there’s room on it for anyone at any level. For the non-violent, sharing propaganda, attending rallies, joining boycotts. These create dopamine loops of righteousness without risk. For the confrontational who haven’t quite managed to work up the nerve for out and out violence, blocking roads, defacing property, “deplatforming” speakers, or doxing opponents. The thrill of disruption is intoxicating. Fear becomes influence. And then, for the True Believers, there’s violence. In extreme forms, violence becomes moral. ANTIFA claims it fights fascists. White nationalists claim they protect Western civilization. Both believe their ends justify fire.
This is this:
This month, rioters burned down a neighborhood in Los Angeles, attacked police officers, destroyed everything from businesses to the transit infrastructure, and justified firing commercial-grade fireworks and Molotov cocktails at law enforcement. During the summer of 2020, arsonists set fire to a police precinct in Minneapolis. It was defended as an act of justice. On January 6th, 2021, a mob stormed the Capitol. That, too, was seen as justice. Both sides used the same logic: We are the righteous. They are illegitimate. Therefore we act. There is a lot of psychology to unpack there regarding the effects of group behavior on individual decision making, and if you’d like to go down that path, please dive into concepts like Contagion Theory, Emergent Norm Theory, and Convergence Theory. For now, and for our purposes here, understanding that the prime movers behind radical movements fully leverage these concepts to their own ends.
Step Five:
Once the community exists and it has its own identity, the next step in the process is what I’ll call “Escalation and Entrapment.” To capture the essence of this stage, I’ll quote Milestones by Sayiid Qutb: “Every drop of blood that is shed must be repaid.” Radicalism, once internalized, feeds itself. There is a forced isolation from Alternatives. The group demands total loyalty. Friends, family, even spouses are cut off if they dissent. Doubt is betrayal. There is a forced and socially reinforced desensitization. What once seemed extreme becomes normal. A year ago, shouting down speakers in the middle of an address was “too far.” Today it’s “necessary.” Tomorrow, it’s not enough. Finally, there is a complete commitment to the Mission Identity. The cause becomes life. There is no way out but through. There is no middle. There is only war. And any thoughts or actions that depart from comprehensive commitment are treated as apostasy.
This is this:
Young people who once shared snarky memes now march masked in cities, attacking public property and hurling flaming gasoline at police officers. Others build bunkers, speak of civil war, and hoard weapons for a zombie apocalypse they’re sure is imminent. Both feel vindicated by their echo chambers. Neither believes the other is human. “Cognitive dissonance,” writes Leon Festinger, “is reduced by changing belief to match behavior.” And so the radical doubles down. They interact less and less with anyone whose ideas don’t align with the in-group’s ideology. They outsource their own critical thinking to the “brand,” easily and comfortably parroting slogans and commonplace narratives in lieu of expressing original thoughts. They’re caught in the spiraling whirlpool of radical thought, the breeding ground for radical action.
It is tempting to the point of being almost comforting to believe that radicalism belongs to the other side. But once you understand the pattern, you will see it among your friends. Your family. Your neighbors. Your party. Maybe even yourself. Not comprehensively, in most cases. It doesn’t start that way. It’s never just a whole-hog baptism into a new way of thinking about the rest of the world as evil. It gets in through the gaps where your intellectual rigor slips, where your need to belong overwhelms your need to be critical. Having strong feelings about a topic or issue isn’t akin to radicalism, especially if you know why you believe what you believe. But believing it and not knowing why, advocating without questioning, that’s the doorway through which conversion nearly always enters.
The radical does not see what is, and if he did see it, he’d dismiss it without concern. He sees what must be. And anything, anyone, that stands in the way becomes expendable. Even the supposed morality of the movement itself.
All of this brings us to the familiar refrain of each D’Anconia Journal entry. If so – what do we do about it?
Well, friends, to answer that, I choose to place my utmost faith in the people who aren’t sure. Those who do not subscribe to my way or this way or that way or any way. There is a quiet, very potent strength in those who are still uncertain.
In an age of screaming certainty and rigid orthodoxy and full commitment to the in-group or else, those who ask questions are not weak. They are not apathetic. They are the real resistance. Not with slogans or Molotov’s, but with something harder: the ability to say, “I need to examine it for myself.”
The unaligned critical thinkers, the “Fence-sitters,” have been mocked, marginalized, and ignored. But they may be the last hope for a society on the brink of ideological fracture. Radicalism survives on binary thinking. It needs enemies. It needs “us” and “them.” It thrives in the extremes because extremes are easier than truth. Certainty sells. Rage unites. Doubt? Doubt gets shouted down, minimized, dismissed. And yet, doubt is the beginning of every real solution.
The willingness to examine both sides, to be wrong, to revise one’s beliefs when evidence demands it; that is not cowardice. That is the highest form of courage. And it is precisely what this moment demands.
In “Don’t Believe Everything You Think,” I highlighted research from More in Common’s Perception Gap study, which shows that Americans dramatically misunderstand one another’s views. It’s especially true of the most politically active. Highly educated progressives, for example, tend to assume conservatives are far more extreme than they really are. The same is true in reverse. The further toward the poles you travel, the greater the misperception.
This is not an accident. It is the result of isolation, algorithmic enshrinement, and cultural incentives that reward tribalism. When your social validation comes from hating the right people, it becomes impossible to understand them.
More recently, you may have seen a graphic from a paper by Luders et al., published in the British Journal of Social Psychology in July 2023 on their groundbreaking work on “Attitude Networks as Intergroup Realities.” This paper showed how ideologies harden over time into unified clusters of belief. Once a person adopts one piece of a group’s worldview, they become far more likely to adopt the entire set, whether or not those beliefs make sense individually. This is not reason. It is identity.
That means the more coherent someone’s political ideology appears to be—the more every belief “fits”—the less likely it is to be the product of independent thought.
Doubt is not dysfunction. It’s freedom.
The Fence-sitters are often accused of being lukewarm, indecisive, or indifferent. But perhaps they are simply the only ones still listening.
This is not a call to abandon convictions. It is a call to test them. It is a plea to build a movement of intellectual discipline, not dogma. Of thought, not outrage. That movement begins with those who still have the eyes to see both sides and the courage not to retreat into either.
We need clarity. We need people willing to say, “That doesn’t make sense,” even when it’s unpopular. We need people strong enough to say it even when it costs them. And we need people wise enough to hear it, especially when it threatens what they believe. Even when it conflicts with the opinions and stances of people we admire, trust, even follow. We need leaders who reject the seduction of certainty and followers who resist the allure of rage.
The radicals will shout. They always do. Let them. Their fire consumes. Ours should instead illuminate.
Be the Fence-sitter who chooses not to fall, but to stand between the two sides, exercise reason, and hold the line.