“Should be the norm” doesn’t really mean anything in the real world, though, does it? People say it like it’s an unshakable fact, but the world doesn’t bend to what should be. It bends to what’s believed by enough people to fight for it and enforce it. Norms are built through conflict, compromise, and power—never just by wishing them into being. And here’s what most forget: maybe 70%-80% of every society has entirely different definitions of what “should be the norm” and what counts as “basic right and wrong.”
You may think anti-racism is basic morality. Someone else sees antiracist movements as Marxist, authoritarian, and corrosive to their way of life. They believe antifa are the Red Guard, modern Brownshirts, and they see your norms as subversive and anti-democratic, even anti-American. To them, they’re the last defense against tyranny. To you, they’re the enemy of progress. Both sides think they’re saving the world. Both sides believe the other side is one step away from tearing everything down.
Nobody at all thinks they’re the bad guy. The villain never looks into the bathroom mirror and sees a monster. They see a hero, brushing their teeth, flexing at their reflection, convinced they’re holding the line while everyone else sleeps. Every side has its own story of righteousness. That’s why shouting “they are wrong” rarely moves anyone—because they’re shouting it back at you with the same conviction. They’re not debating you; they’re defending their very existence.
This is the blindspot of moral absolutism: thinking your version of right and wrong is self-evident. The second you forget how rare your worldview is, you stop listening. You stop understanding why the fight exists at all. In the USA, maybe 20% share your moral frame. Globally, it’s rarer still. Rare things survive because they fight, not because they assume victory. Moral proclamations sound strong, but without shared belief they become impotent truths—loud, righteous, and powerless against the tide. They comfort you, but they don’t convert the world.
The world isn’t Sunday school. It’s a Clash of the Titans. Both sides have been building toward this for decades—Christian nationalism, identity politics, populism, Marxist theory—all sharpening their swords in the dark. Generations of narratives have shaped these movements, and they collide with the force of myth. When they clash, they don’t care about your shoulds. They care about survival. They care about who writes the next chapter of history.
Hold your beliefs, fight for them, but don’t lie to yourself about how universal they are. They’re not. They never have been. Your truths may be rare, and that rarity makes them precious, but also fragile. The moment you forget that, you risk becoming the villain in someone else’s story—heroically shaving in your bathroom mirror while they sharpen their blades. And while you’re admiring your reflection, they are marching, plotting, believing just as fiercely as you do. The battle isn’t won by who feels most righteous; it’s won by who understands the terrain.
tl;dr
The provided text argues that what "should be the norm" is not a universal truth, but rather a reflection of specific beliefs held by a minority, often just 20% of society. It highlights that norms are established through conflict, power, and widespread belief, not by inherent rightness or individual desires. The author emphasizes that different groups hold vastly divergent moral frameworks, with each side viewing themselves as righteous and the opposing view as a threat, making shouting or moral absolutism ineffective. Ultimately, the text suggests that understanding the rarity and fragility of one's own worldview is crucial for effective engagement in a world shaped by clashing narratives and the fight for survival.
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