The Battle Between Good and Evil: Shadows Ignite in Tesla’s Flames
Part 2
Last summer, I wrote of the eternal clash between good and evil—a struggle etched into human history, pulsing through our choices, and peaking in our time with events like the attempted assassination of former President Donald J. Trump. I argued it’s not just a cosmic tale but a daily fight, magnified by a world where morality frays and divisions sharpen. Nine months on, in March 2025, that peak looms higher, darker. The battle rages on, fuelled by recent attacks on Tesla—cars torched, showrooms shot up, a company caught in a firestorm of ideology and rage. What do these acts reveal about our age? How do ancient echoes and modern chaos collide in this escalating war? I will try to probe deeper, from sacred texts to burning Cybertrucks, to grasp this moment’s gravity.
A World at the Brink
Since July 2024, the battle has erupted into something visceral, spilling from hearts to streets. The attempted assassination of former President Donald J. Trump was a flare, signalling a society on the brink. Now, in March 2025, that fire scorches Tesla—symbol of innovation and its lightning-rod CEO, Elon Musk. In Las Vegas, on March 18, five Teslas blazed, riddled with bullets, “RESIST” smeared in red across a service center’s doors—an attack the FBI brands “targeted” with “hallmarks of terrorism.” Days prior, Tigard, Oregon’s dealership took over a dozen rounds—the second strike in a week. In Colorado, Lucy Grace Nelson lobbed Molotov cocktails at a Loveland lot, scrawling “Nazi” and “F--- Musk,” leaving $20,000 in wreckage.
This isn’t random. Since January, a wave of violence has swept Tesla—charging stations torched in Massachusetts, Cybertrucks burned in Seattle and Kansas City, swastikas defacing Maryland lots. Protests flare too—hundreds stormed a Manhattan showroom on March 8, six hauled off in cuffs. X seethes with venom: some cheer the vandals, others cry “domestic terrorism.” Musk, now slashing federal jobs as head of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), links it to his Trump alliance. Attorney General Pam Bondi promises “severe consequences”; Trump, dubbing it terrorism, buys a Tesla in defiance. Shares have cratered 50% since December, a fortune bleeding out as polarization turns feral—families fracture, trust in institutions collapses, and the U.S. elections of 2024, still echoing, pit saviours against devils in a dozen weaponized truths.
Globally, the stakes sear just as hot. Wars in Ukraine and Gaza cloak bloodshed in righteousness; climate debates drown survival in greed and dogma. Even tech (AI) ignites moral panic: tool of good or Trojan horse?
The moral compass I warned of spins wilder than ever, and without it, we’re not just lost—we’re prey.
This clash of good and evil isn’t new, but its speed and scale, from political chaos to literal flames, mark a peak unprecedented in my lifetime. Ancient roots meet modern fury, and the world teeters—raw, unfiltered, ablaze.
Ancient Echoes in Modern Fights
This clash between good and evil isn’t our first rodeo—it’s as old as civilization itself. Last time, I traced it through Christianity’s spiritual warfare, Islam’s jihad, Hinduism’s dharma, and Buddhism’s inner cleansing. Those frameworks endure, but let’s peer further back. In Mesopotamia, circa 2000 BCE, the Enuma Elish pits Marduk against Tiamat—order battling chaos, ziggurats rising not just for worship but to anchor harmony against anarchy. Greece’s myths echo this: Zeus wrestles Titans, Prometheus steals fire from the gods, a rebel cursed for enlightenment—shades of Elon Musk’s critics casting him as a titan of hubris. These were maps for a world teetering between creation and collapse.
The ancients knew the stakes. Sumerians dreaded chaos seeping from unburied dead; Greeks saw hubris tipping fate’s scales.
Today’s turmoil mirrors theirs: unmoored values, unchecked power, a society where evil whispers, not roars.
The Tesla attacks blazing across 2025—cars torched, showrooms shot up—reflect this ancient script. Musk’s DOGE cuts, slashing thousands of jobs, spark cries of adharma, unrighteousness; vandals see evil in his wealth, his Trump alliance. Yet his defenders hail him as a Galileo, defying a corrupt cosmos. The parallels are uncanny—good as harmony, evil as disruption, playing out in flames and graffiti.
Jung’s shadow, which I’ve explored before, looms larger now. We project our darkness—fear, rage, guilt—onto “the other,” be it a political foe, a foreign flag, or Musk himself.
Rage at Tesla isn’t about cars; it’s inner turmoil—fear of change, loss of control—bursting outward.
The collective unconscious churns, spitting out mobs and messiahs, splitting us into tribes, each clutching their moral banner. From Mesopotamia’s cosmic battles to today’s Cybertruck pyres, this is antiquity’s drama replayed—our chaos, their map, a struggle as timeless as the stars.
Evil’s Cunning Veil
Evil’s deception, a thread from my last piece, has morphed into something subtler, more insidious. Hitler’s promises of salvation twisted into genocide; cults hid malice behind smiles.
Today, the wolves wear sheepskins woven from hashtags and Molotovs.
Social media—X especially—amplifies it: posts cloaked as justice peddle hate, lauding the “Tesla Takedown” as resistance, while “RESIST” scrawled in Las Vegas mimics revolutionary chic. Algorithms feed confirmation bias until lies feel holy, and torching cars passes for dharma. But this isn’t righteousness—it’s chaos draped as virtue.
The Trump saga mirrors it—one side sees a martyr, the other a menace, both blind to manipulation’s strings. Tesla’s 2025 crucible sharpens the lens: media spins Musk as villain or saviour, his green legacy souring into a political piñata.
Vandals hurl their own shadows, hating in Musk what they deny in themselves: ambition, defiance, flaws. Jung’s projection runs wild, and the collective darkness thickens.
Gabriele Amorth’s warning—“The devil’s best trick is convincing you he doesn’t exist”—cuts deeper now.
Evil isn’t just the firebomb; it’s the apathy letting it blaze, the glee cheering it on. This veil isn’t fire and brimstone—it’s persuasion, subtle as a whisper.
Ads, news, even AI outputs nudge ethics aside, bite by bite. Pornography floods screens, numbing empathy; cancel culture exiles mistakes, not malice; division seeps through tweets and spray cans. These are tendrils of a rot exploiting our shadows. Morality’s under siege in 2025, not by demons, but by distraction and the slow grind of indifference. Evil doesn’t need horns when it has our silence.
The Soul’s Battlefield
I’ve long stressed that the battle between good and evil begins within, and in 2025, that truth burns brighter than ever.
Ephesians 6:12 echoes—“our fight’s not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual wickedness”—yet it’s the psyche where evil takes root.
Buddhism’s defilements—greed, hatred, delusion—flourish in today’s chaos. Greed drives billionaires to hoard while millions starve, envy of Musk’s billions sparking Tesla’s pyres. Hatred flares in every “us vs. them” screed, bullets ripping through showrooms. Delusion blinds us—vandals torch cars, believing fire rights wrongs, while facts drown in X’s noise. Krishna’s Gita call to selfless duty fades as ego reigns, from vandals’ Molotovs to our own scrolling thumbs.
Jung’s shadow work is no longer optional—it’s urgent. Ignore it, and we project: Trump’s shooter didn’t target a man but an idea, his darkness spilling outward; Tesla’s attackers—South Carolina’s “F— Trump, long live Ukraine” arsonist, Nelson’s anti-government rants—unleash unchecked rage, not reasoned jihad. Their shadows run free, and ours can too. Meditation, prayer, mindfulness—these aren’t luxuries anymore but armour. I’ve doubled my practice since July, clawing clarity from the storm. It’s shown me:
without wrestling our flaws—greed in our hearts, hatred in our words, delusion in our blind spots—we’re puppets, not warriors.
The Tesla fires aren’t just out there; they’re lit by the dark we refuse to face within. Win the inner war, or the outer one consumes us.
Fighting Back: Old Wisdom, New Resolve
How do we resist this tide of evil? Last time, I urged prayer (no matter your religion or not), community, and education—still vital, but in 2025, we need sharper tools and fiercer resolve. From a Christian perspective, faith demands action—James 2:17 warns that faith without works is dead. Volunteer, donate to Tesla owners shamed for their cars, speak truth, build bridges—small ripples erode evil’s grip. Islam’s greater jihad calls for discipline—cut the X doomscroll, question the feed, seek facts over fury. Hinduism’s bhakti—devotion—anchors us; serve others, not self, like volunteers rebuilding after riots. Buddhism’s mindfulness slices through delusion—fact-check, pause, breathe before you curse the mob.
Make community your lifeline, education’s your blade, find patterns in the chaos. But the heart of it? Own your darkness. Admit a grudge, forgive a slight, help a stranger. Channel your rage into words, not wreckage; that’s your shield. Evil hooks into weakness—greed, spite, pride—so starve it. Serve, support, reflect; deny it a foothold. Faith without resolve is hollow; action without soul is noise. Together, they’re our fire—old wisdom, new fight.
A Peak or a Precipice?
This battle’s at a crest—a precipice, not an end. The Trump assassination attempt, the election’s fallout, Tesla’s fiery ordeal—Las Vegas flames, Oregon bullets, swastikas on Cybertrucks—they’re flares signalling a world fracturing. Order hangs by a thread, and evil smirks, bold in its chaos: firebombs, division, a newsfeed turned Kurukshetra. We’re not Sumerians trembling at Tiamat, but we’re close—teetering between harmony and abyss.
Yet good flickers, unbowed. Strangers aid war refugees, scientists chase cures, kids plant trees, Musk’s fans rally. Hope isn’t dead—it’s defiant. The ancients knew this dance: Mesopotamia raised ziggurats against anarchy; Greece tamed Titans; the Gita’s battlefield is our X scroll. They built through chaos; we can too—resilience over ruin, truth over bias. I’m hopeful, not naive. The moral compass steadies if we grip it.
Start small: question the spin—“terrorism” or “protest”?—mend a rift, face your shadow (mine’s anger at this mess). Starve evil’s fuel—doubt a headline, heal a divide, persist where pyres burn.
Good wins quietly, not with fanfare, but with stubborn, steady fight—within us, and out there where Teslas smolder.