The Real Culture War: Those Who Bear Burdens vs. Those Who Demand Relief

Modern politics isn’t about left or right—it’s about who takes responsibility and who avoids it. A society that punishes strength and rewards weakness is bound to collapse.

The world is not best divided into left vs. right or conservative vs. liberal. These terms have become little more than tribal symbols, useful for partisan identity but useless for understanding how people actually see the world. A far more honest division is those who see life as a burden to be carried and those who believe it should be lifted for them.

Everyone suffers. That’s the one constant across all of humanity. Some face financial ruin, disability, broken families. Others suffer in subtler ways: spiritual emptiness, nihilism, anxiety bred in comfort. It’s no coincidence that the wealthiest countries also report the highest rates of mental illness. Viktor Frankl called it the “existential vacuum”—comfort without meaning. And meaning is what transforms pain into purpose.

What separates us is not how much we suffer, but how we respond to it. Some people take life’s pain on the chin, lift their burden, and grow stronger under the weight. Others shake their fists at the sky, insisting someone else must pay for their pain. These opposing responses form the moral fault line of humanity.

Now picture this: each of us, at birth, is strapped with a boulder. That boulder represents life’s suffering, duty, limitations, and consequence. No one escapes it. And as we age, that boulder gets heavier—every new responsibility, every failure, every loved one lost adds mass.

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Imagine society as ten people tied together, each carrying their boulder up a hill. Some walk steadily. Some momentarily stumble. Others fall completely. At first, those who can manage help those who can’t. A little redistribution of weight. But what happens when more and more people stop carrying? When not only do they refuse to lift their boulders, they expect others to carry them—and are taught this is not only acceptable, but righteous?

We tell people today that hardship is a sign of injustice, rather than an inevitable part of life. Our culture frames suffering as something to be fixed by institutions, not endured by individuals. But many cultures throughout history saw it differently. They prized duty, sacrifice, and self-mastery. They expected individuals to bear their load and become stronger because of it. And in doing so, they built the civilizations we now take for granted. Today, we tell people that pain means someone has wronged you, and that relief should be a political demand, not a personal responsibility.

This belief infects our institutions. Government, media, schools—all reinforce the same idea: the good society is one where no one suffers. But the only way to achieve this is to offload the burden of the many onto the backs of the few.

So we tax the competent, guilt-trip the strong, and regulate the productive. We tell them, “You didn’t build that.” We tell them their success is theft and their strength is privilege. Those strong enough to carry their burdens are often punished for their strength. But their strength is the only thing holding the system together.

At first, it’s sustainable. Two out of ten drop their boulders, and the other eight absorb the weight. It’s uncomfortable, but possible. Then another stumbles. Then another. The burden compounds. Eventually, only five are left carrying the weight of ten. And one by one, even the strong collapse. Because nobody, no matter how capable, can carry the world alone.

And then we reach the most dangerous point: when the collapse is visible, and those still standing are scapegoated for not carrying enough. The resentment of the dependent becomes the rage of the mob. And that rage demands total control—a state powerful enough to equalize all burdens by force. This is how collectivist utopias become totalitarian nightmares: not everyone is liberated from suffering, everyone is crushed by it equally.

You can see it already. Governments printing trillions to ease short-term burdens, handing the debt to unborn generations. Every entitlement and bailout is another pound of pressure placed on children who had no say in the matter. Our unwillingness to carry today becomes their unpayable load tomorrow. Collapse doesn’t always arrive in fire and violence. Sometimes, it arrives in silence, as a generation inherits the boulders of the one before.

This is why the left vs. right paradigm is so hollow. The real distinction is between individualists and collectivists. Individualists believe life is hard, and that facing that hardship makes you strong and dignified. Collectivists believe hardship is unfair and demand that others remove it. Both exist on every point of the political spectrum. This isn’t about parties. It’s about philosophy.

Individualists are like deep-rooted trees in a forest—able to withstand storms and give shelter to others. But if too many saplings grow shallow roots and lean on the strong, the whole forest falls in the next wind. Or imagine a symphony where only a few instruments are playing their parts, while others demand the conductor fix the music. Eventually, the harmony dissolves into chaos.

So what is the solution? Not cruelty. Not indifference. But real compassion. Compassion isn’t removing someone’s boulder. It’s walking beside them as they learn to lift it. It’s lending a hand when they slip—not carrying them up the hill forever. It’s reminding them that life is heavy, but they are capable. Because a society that forgets how to carry weight will be buried by it.

Ignoring this harsh truth about life does not lead to a kinder and more more equal world. Instead, everyone ends up getting crushed—slowly, then all at once—under the collective weight of a million boulders nobody wants to carry.