Van Oosterhout is a psychologist and author of “ Slow Down and Lighten Up: Letting Go of Stress and Tension.”
I was home playing with my children on my day off when I got a call from the clinic: "Your patient Paul called. He said his guns were loaded and he’s heading out the door to blow those people away. He said he promised to call you first." I found a movie for my kids and called Paul.
Paul (not his real name) was an intelligent, sensitive and creative man whose appearance and quirks made him an outsider. He was bullied in school and had dropped out. His talents and interests were neither recognized nor developed. People laughed at him. He didn't fit in and didn't feel like he belonged.
Paul had a lot of guns and he knew how to use them – they gave him a sense of power and control. He was drawn to conspiracy theories – they provided an explanation for his isolation and made him feel connected with others who seemed to be "in the know." Paul didn't hurt anyone that day and the people he would have killed were fortunate that his doctor had encouraged him to seek counseling. Many others were not so fortunate. There were over 1,800 mass shootings in the United States between 2020 and 2022.
I've been a psychologist for 45 years – counseling, teaching and community organizing. I've worked with dozens of people who had problems with violence and have seen a clear pattern. For the most part, they were isolated and didn't fit in. No one really knew or appreciated who they were. Their gifts and potential went unrecognized and undeveloped. They had no sense of belonging.
Human beings are social creatures. Belonging is a basic, essential need – ultimately our survival depends on it. There's no need for violence when we feel respected and understood. Violence isn't a consideration when we're curious and interested in something meaningful. We don't give it a thought when we're exploring who we are, who we can be and what we can contribute to our world.
Modern culture has made belonging conditional. It depends on who we are, how we look, the things we have and what we accomplish. This pushes some out to the fringe where they're isolated, alone and increasingly fearful. They desperately seek some sense of recognition and a feeling of power and control. Acts of mass violence provide an opportunity to emphatically and dramatically meet that need. Media reporting and our conditioned desire for sensationalism have made mass violence an attractive alternative to desperate and lonely lives. I recall Paul saying, "I'm gonna be famous."
Belonging is elusive when we put conditions on it. We can never really be ourselves when acceptance depends on appearance, impression or accomplishments. True belonging requires authenticity. The fear of being excluded gnaws at our self-worth as it diminishes our possibilities. Some of us overcompensate. Others give up. But the fear never goes away.
Natural fear is short-term. It can be transformed into caution and concern when balance is restored and maintained. We can slow down on an icy road, seek shelter in a storm, walk slowly away from a poisonous snake. Fear dissipates when the ice clears, the storm is over or the snake moves on. A lack of belonging builds fear that doesn’t dissipate.
Prolonged fear undermines physical, mental and emotional balance. It builds tension in our bodies, narrows our vision and thinking and numbs and intensifies our emotions. It affects how we see and relate to our world and each other. Prolonged fear restricts our awareness and undermines the search for truth as it disrupts our sense of belonging. It feeds the well-established belief that humans are essentially selfish, aggressive and competitive when it’s actually fear that makes us selfish, aggressive and competitive. This belief creates a self-fulfilling prophecy that generates more fear.
I've worked with, taught, trained, counseled or organized thousands of people over the past 50 years. Some had killed other human beings. Others had molested children or committed a range of crimes. I’ve never met anyone who was naturally selfish, aggressive or violent. The people with those traits were stuck in prolonged fear fed by stress, trauma and a lack of belonging. When they recovered from built-up physical, mental, and emotional tension and began to think about what was really important in life, compassion, understanding, and patience emerged. Selfishness, aggression and the tendency toward violence dissipated.
We can't intentionally harm another person unless we close our hearts and lose sight of who we and they really are. Closed hearts and restricted vision make violence possible. The solution to violence is to see ourselves and each other clearly with an open heart. It's hard to open your heart when your life is dominated by fear and your sense of belonging is conditional or non-existent.
The lack of belonging and escalating fear are widespread problems. Acts of mass violence are increasing all over the world. A constant flow of fear-based messages from the media, politicians, and entertainment industry grab and keep our attention. Escalating stress throws us further out of balance while diminishing our ability to see and think clearly. Rates of anxiety and depression are increasing dramatically. Technology provides opportunities for increased contact but we’re more isolated and disconnected than ever. Fear leads us to exclude others. Fear leads some of them to react with violence.
What can the average person do about all this?
I have a few suggestions: The first is to make a commitment to restore and maintain physical, mental and emotional balance. Get off the stress and fear treadmill that restricts your capacity to see and think clearly. Learn to separate natural fear from man-made fear. Ignore fear based messages that you can’t do anything about. Transform natural fear into caution and concern by shifting focus away from how bad things are to what we can do about them.
Pay attention to other people. See our shared humanity. Recognize our need for respect and belonging. Realize that everyone has gifts and potential as well as limitations and challenges. Remember that we're in this world together and that our actions affect others in ways we don't anticipate. Look people in the eye, smile, be respectful and welcoming. (There's a true story about a man who was on the way to commit an act of mass violence but changed his mind when a person on the street smiled at him.)
The roots of mass violence and fear stem from a lack of respect, understanding and curiosity about who we are, who we can be, and how we fit into the world around us. We can begin a process of becoming free of fear and violence by making balance a priority, disregarding fear based messages, and realizing the value and importance of belonging.




















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.