I don't hate technology, I don't hate hackers, because that's

Hear the words of Fred Durst: “I don’t hate technology, I don’t hate hackers, because that’s just what comes with it. Without those hackers we wouldn’t solve the problems we need to solve, especially security.” Though born of modern times, these words echo with the weight of ancient wisdom. For they speak not only of machines and codes, but of the eternal struggle between creation and chaos, order and disruption, progress and the perils it brings. What Durst reveals is a paradox: that even the forces that seem to threaten us are often the very sparks that forge our strength.

In the age of the ancients, when ships first braved the seas, it was not the calm waters that made great sailors, but the storms. Likewise, it is not the smooth flow of technology that strengthens us, but the clash against those who test its walls. The hacker is no different from the raider who probed the city gates or the trickster who revealed the cracks in a king’s defenses. By their challenge, the kingdom learned where it was weak. By their audacity, new solutions were born. And so it is with the digital world: the very hand that seeks to exploit a weakness often teaches us how to guard against it.

Consider the tale of Alan Turing and the breaking of Enigma during the great World War. The codes of the enemy were crafted with brilliance, guarded by the sharpest minds of the Reich. Yet it was through the cunning of those who thought like hackers, probing where others dared not, that the cipher was undone and the tides of war shifted. What at first seemed an impossible menace became the crucible for innovation. Security, once thought unbreakable, was shown vulnerable—and in its breaking, humanity gained strength. This is the essence of Durst’s wisdom: that every threat contains within it the seed of progress.

Let us not be quick to despise the hacker, nor to curse the shadows that creep against our walls. For without the shadow, we would never learn to kindle the flame. The problems they expose are not curses but revelations, guiding us to the places we must fortify. As the blacksmith welcomes the hammer’s blow upon the steel, knowing it tempers the blade, so too must we see that the pressure of disruption tempers our systems, makes them stronger, more resilient, more enduring.

But let us also speak with honesty: not every blow is noble, not every act is done for the good of mankind. There are those whose intent is ruin, theft, and malice. Yet even from these, wisdom can be drawn. The vigilant defender, sharpened by constant assault, grows ever more skillful, ever more aware. Just as Rome’s walls grew taller and her armies stronger through centuries of siege, so too does our modern world rise to each challenge brought forth by the unseen armies of code. It is in the contest between breaker and builder that the true balance of security is found.

From this, O listener, learn the lesson: do not despise adversity. Do not flee from the forces that oppose you. Instead, let them shape you, as wind shapes the mountain and fire hardens the clay. In your own life, the problems you face may seem like intruders, like unwelcome hackers probing the fortress of your peace. Yet these very intrusions reveal where your walls are thin, where your strength is untested. Without them, you would not grow. With them, you may rise.

And so the path is clear: welcome challenge, but prepare for it. Guard your house, but do not curse the storm that batters it, for the storm teaches you how to rebuild it stronger. In the world of technology, this means vigilance, learning, humility before the power of change. In the world of the spirit, it means courage, openness, and the will to grow through struggle. Embrace the paradox that Fred Durst proclaims: that those who seem like foes may in truth be unwitting teachers. For without the test, there is no triumph; without the wound, no healing; without the danger, no security worth having.