I consider myself a centrist, though leaning left. Politically, my outlook is close to Jordan Peterson's, valuing responsibility, tradition, and competence, though I lean further left when it comes to helping people through education and social programs for those truly in need.

But let me be clear: though I call myself a liberal, I am not a progressive. You will not find me in that camp. Why? Because I've seen what happens when resentment replaces responsibility.

In reading psychological analyses of Tyler Robinson, the consensus is striking: he was bright, but when life presented roadblocks, instead of rising to responsibility, he sank into resentment and turned to a path of extremism. He felt anxious, aimless, and desperate to matter. Rather than building himself up, he turned to blame-shifting and sought recognition through destructive means, even imagining himself a "hero" by targeting others.

This dynamic mirrors what I see too often in the radical left. Responsibility is replaced with resentment. Progress is replaced with blame-shifting. Compassion gives way to selective framing, demonization, and the dangerous rationalization of violence against those unfairly labeled as "oppressors."

To me, being liberal is about pursuing better ideas. Conservatism, traditionally, is about protecting what has already proven to work, honoring those enduring values. In that sense, I am conservative: do what works. But I am also liberal: when reason and science give us better ways forward, we must embrace them.

True liberalism is not grounded in resentment, hatred, or unearned status, but in responsibility, compassion, and reason. It's about recognizing that progress comes not from tearing down those who succeed, but from lifting up those who struggle, not through handouts that breed dependency, but through genuine opportunity that cultivates capability.

The troubling rise of the "I am a hero; recognize me" mentality, without competence, merit, or sacrifice to back it up, is dangerous. It punishes those who work hard, branding them as "privileged" or "oppressors," while excusing resentment as virtue.

Peterson was right: in the story of Cain and Abel, Cain's jealousy led him to hatred and murder, instead of facing his own failures and sacrifices. That is the danger of resentment unchecked, it punishes the innocent rather than transforming the self.

When Cain's offering was rejected while Abel's was accepted, Cain had a choice. He could have examined his own actions, improved his craft, and made a better offering. Instead, he chose the easier path: destroying the source of his comparison. This is the eternal temptation when we face our own inadequacy.

How many times do we see this pattern repeated today? Rather than improving ourselves, we seek to diminish others. Rather than building competence, we demand recognition. Rather than earning respect through sacrifice and achievement, we claim victimhood as a badge of honor.

We all feel resentment at times. But we also have a choice: to carry our failures with compassion, to hold our pain with love and empathy, and to rise above hatred. This is what I see too little of in both the radical left and the extreme right, where anger and resentment dominate.

The question is not whether we will face adversity, rejection, or failure. We will. The question is what we do with that experience. Do we allow it to harden into bitterness? Do we weaponize our pain and direct it at others? Or do we transform it into wisdom, compassion, and genuine strength?

True strength is not found in declaring ourselves victims. It's not found in demanding that the world recognize our worth before we've demonstrated it. True strength comes from facing our failures honestly, taking responsibility for our choices, and working diligently to become someone worthy of the respect we seek.

This is why I distance myself from the progressive movement despite my liberal leanings. I see too much emphasis on grievance and not enough on agency. Too much focus on tearing down structures and not enough on building character. Too much energy spent on identifying oppressors and too little on developing the competence to thrive regardless of circumstance.

The same critique applies to certain elements of the far right, where economic anxiety and cultural displacement breed their own form of resentment and scapegoating. The pattern is universal: when we feel we're falling behind, the easiest response is to find someone to blame rather than something to improve.

But easy paths rarely lead anywhere worth going.

The way forward is not in demonization, but in dialogue. Not in resentment, but in responsibility. As Peterson warns, hell is a downward spiral where we can always make things worse. Yet we are not bound to that path. In every moment, we have the choice to build a world that is less like hell and more like heaven.

This means having honest conversations about difficult topics without resorting to character assassination. It means acknowledging both personal responsibility and systemic challenges without collapsing entirely into either extreme. It means recognizing that people like Charlie Kirk, whatever we might think of their positions, are not demons to be destroyed but humans to be engaged with.

We don't have to agree with everyone. We don't have to accept every idea as equally valid. But we do have to maintain our own integrity in how we respond to disagreement. We have to resist the siren call of righteous anger that promises us the satisfaction of moral superiority while delivering only deeper division.

If there's one lesson I've learned from studying both psychology and history, it's this: resentment is a poison that destroys from within. It doesn't matter if that resentment feels justified. It doesn't matter if we can construct elaborate intellectual frameworks to rationalize it. The end result is always the same: we become smaller, meaner, and less capable of the very change we claim to seek.

The alternative requires more of us. It requires that we face our own shortcomings with courage. It requires that we extend empathy even to those we disagree with. It requires that we build rather than merely tear down, that we create rather than merely criticize, that we take responsibility for the world we want rather than simply resenting the world we have.

This is the path I choose. Not because it's easy, but because it's the only path I've found that leads anywhere worth going.
​
The call to action in this post is simple, let's all consider these words as we strive to be better humans inwards, and towards each other. 

Amd as always, follow the Golden Rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." - Jesus of Nazareth

​I hope this helps.