RUTHFULLY YOURS

There is a quiet but powerful assumption that underlies much of the modern political left: that people are fixed. You are who you are—because of your upbringing, your environment, your skin colour, your class, your chromosomes—and you are stuck that way. This is not a fringe belief. It is foundational. It determines how the left writes policy, how it talks about people, and ultimately how it justifies its own existence. 

This deterministic worldview—where the future is something done to us, not something we build—is no minor quirk. It is the lifeblood of leftist politics. Without it, the left’s policies begin to unravel, its rhetoric loses force, and its claims to moral authority collapse. For if people are truly free—if they possess the capacity for self-betterment, resilience, and growth—then the left’s vast machinery of redistribution, intervention, and protection becomes unnecessary, or worse, infantilising.

To understand this dynamic, the work of Carl Jung provides a useful framework. His archetype of the devouring mother—the figure who smothers her children with care, robbing them of the challenges that build independence—is an apt metaphor for the modern welfare state. The devouring mother does not act out of cruelty but out of a pathological need to protect, to provide, and to be needed. She denies the child the trials that would make him strong—because his weakness justifies her role. This is exactly how many modern governments behave: offering more and more, doing more and more, until the individual no longer knows how to stand.

In psychological and behavioural literature, the case for agency is overwhelming. The belief that one’s actions matter—that personal responsibility and effort shape outcomes—is one of the most robust predictors of success across nearly every domain of life. Children raised to believe in their capacity to overcome hardship fare better academically, emotionally, and economically. Adults who take responsibility for their choices are healthier and more resilient. Communities that foster self-reliance tend to be safer, more cohesive, and more innovative.

But here lies the problem: individuals who believe they can lift themselves up don’t need bureaucrats to do it for them. Citizens who believe in their capacity to act don’t require constant intervention, assistance, or redistribution. And so, from the left’s perspective, this belief in human potential is not just inconvenient—it is dangerous. It threatens the very foundation of their legitimacy. 

It is no accident that the Left tends to frame people as helpless victims, be it of capitalism, colonialism, patriarchal oppression, or genetics. These narratives are not just analytical tools; they are political necessities. They serve to delegitimise personal agency while legitimising the expansive role of the state. If individuals are seen as powerless it becomes the state’s sacred duty to rescue them. And just like the devouring mother, the State can feel morally righteous for doing so.

This dynamic sets up a feedback loop. The more the government provides, the more dependent the citizen becomes. The more dependent the citizen, the more justified the government feels in expanding its role. With every new program, every new entitlement, the citizen is left with fewer opportunities to struggle, fewer chances to grow, and fewer reasons to believe in his or her own strength. The government, meanwhile, grows more indispensable.

Over time, this creates a population that is not merely dependent but fragile. And fragility is the enemy of freedom. For freedom is not the absence of constraints—it is the earned right to direct one’s life, and that right is predicated on the assumption of responsibility. A person who cannot take responsibility for their choices, their livelihood, or their future, has no business claiming freedom. Freedom without responsibility is not liberty—it is license, chaos, or worse, collapse.

This is the forgotten equation at the heart of political freedom.

freedom = responsibility.

The more responsibility we forfeit to the State, the less freedom we can reasonably demand. And when the State provides everything—education, healthcare, housing, income, identity—it inevitably feels entitled to control everything. What we say. How we raise our children. What we consume. How we move. What we believe. A State that feeds and clothes and medicates its citizens from cradle to grave will soon come to see them not as citizens, but as dependents. And dependents do not govern themselves.

This creeping paternalism is often accepted under the guise of compassion. But it is compassion corrupted—stripped of its connection to truth and agency. Compassion, properly understood, does not mean removing hardship from life. It means walking alongside others as they face it. The left, however, increasingly uses compassion as a rhetorical weapon to justify control. And in doing so, it obscures a crucial truth: that strength comes only through struggle, that dignity is born from difficulty, and that the sacredness of human life lies in its potential—not just its present condition. 

This erosion of belief in potential has consequences far beyond economics or welfare policy. Take the abortion debate. At its core is a question of potential: Is the child in the womb a life in progress, or merely a clump of cells? To justify abortion up to—and even beyond—the ninth month, the left must deny the potential of that unborn human. For once you acknowledge potential, you must also acknowledge personhood. And personhood, once granted, demands protection.

This rejection of potential—the refusal to see what could be—is the philosophical root of much of what ails modern politics. It explains why freedom is fading, why responsibility is despised, why the state grows ever larger, and why so many individuals feel lost, small, and voiceless. To reverse this, we must recover our belief in the sacredness of the individual soul—not as a finished product, but as a becoming, a story in motion.

Politics, like parenting, must mature. The proper role of government is not to treat citizens like infants, but to help them grow into adults. That means letting go, stepping back, and trusting people to live with the consequences of their freedom. It means acknowledging that life is unfair, but that resilience is possible. It means affirming that every human being—regardless of origin—carries within them a divine spark of potential.

If we do not recover this truth, then the devouring state will grow unchecked. And like the devouring mother, it will insist it only wants what’s best for us—even as it consumes our dignity, our agency, and our freedom.