Maybe We Need to Embrace Anarchy…

At least, that seems to be the direction we’re drifting toward.

It’s hard to come to any other conclusion when large segments of society have grown comfortable believing they can pick and choose which laws apply to them—obeying the ones they like, ignoring the ones they don’t, and demanding immunity from consequence when reality intrudes.

The participation-trophy mindset has matured into something more dangerous: the belief that discomfort equals injustice, that enforcement equals oppression, and that accountability is optional if you can frame yourself as morally aggrieved.

Laws as Suggestions, Consequences as Optional

We’ve quietly crossed a line where laws are no longer treated as the baseline rules of a shared society, but as personal recommendations—subject to individual approval. If a law aligns with your worldview, it’s righteous. If it doesn’t, it’s illegitimate. And if enforcement follows, the problem isn’t the violation—it’s the authority.

That logic doesn’t lead to reform.
It leads to erosion.

Because once laws become negotiable, they cease to function as laws at all. They become symbols—useful only for signaling, useless for order.

The Comfort of Chaos (Until It Isn’t)

Anarchy always sounds appealing to people who believe they’ll never be on the receiving end of it.

It feels liberating when rules dissolve and restraint disappears—when streets become stages for outrage and destruction is reframed as expression. But chaos has a way of shedding its romance quickly. It doesn’t stay targeted. It doesn’t remain selective. And it certainly doesn’t respect the moral intentions of those who invited it in.

Eventually, the same people who cheered the collapse of norms begin asking why no one is protecting them anymore.

By then, it’s too late.

Enforcement Isn’t the Problem—Inconsistency Is

What’s often missing from the conversation is this: most people don’t object to laws being enforced. They object to laws being enforced unevenly.

When leaders wink at defiance, excuse violations they agree with, and condemn enforcement they find politically inconvenient, they teach the public a dangerous lesson: rules are for suckers, and outrage is a shield.

That doesn’t create justice.
It creates resentment.

And resentment, left unchecked, always finds an outlet.

The Inevitable Endgame

If we truly want to “embrace anarchy,” then we should at least be honest about what that means. It means no referee. No shared rules. No neutral enforcement. Only power—who has it today, and who takes it tomorrow.

And history is brutally consistent on this point: when order collapses, it isn’t the idealists who thrive. It’s the ruthless.

The strong.
The organized.
The violent.

Everyone else learns—too late—why laws existed in the first place.

A Story, Not a Suggestion

These questions sit at the core of Exposed King, where a city pushed to excuse lawlessness discovers that chaos doesn’t stay contained. When people decide the system no longer deserves respect, someone always decides they deserve justice instead.

The novel isn’t an argument for anarchy.
It’s a warning about flirting with it.

Because once a society convinces itself that rules are optional, it shouldn’t be surprised when someone decides they are.