Terror, married to technology and accommodated by progress in

Hear now, O children of the earth, the stern warning of Greg Gutfeld, who declared: “Terror, married to technology and accommodated by progress in travel, has turned evil individuals into traveling ballistic missiles.” These words are not the musings of idle thought, but a heavy oracle of our age, spoken in the shadow of fire and sorrow. They tell of the union of dark intent with mighty tools, of how the blessings of progress, when placed in the hands of the wicked, become weapons sharper than any sword. They remind us that technology, though born of human genius, is ever bound to the spirit of the one who wields it.

Long ago, terror was bound by distance and by time. The malice of a tyrant might reach his neighbors, but seldom the distant lands across the horizon. Travel was slow, the horse weary, the ship at the mercy of the sea. Thus the circle of destruction was small, and the world had walls of time and space to shield it. But now, with the wings of the airplane and the pathways of the global road, the dark heart of one man may strike like lightning across nations. What was once local in its cruelty has become global in its reach. Progress in travel, once a triumph, has become also a burden, for it carries both mercy and malice with equal swiftness.

Consider, O listeners, the tragedy of September 11, 2001, when men filled with rage and hatred seized the gift of flight. They turned the airplane—an invention meant to join continents, to carry families, to bring peace between distant shores—into a traveling missile of destruction. Thousands perished, and the whole world trembled at the revelation: that what was built for connection could be twisted into separation, that what was meant for life could be turned into death. This is the meaning of Gutfeld’s words: terror has learned to ride upon the very back of technology.

Yet let us not despair, for this truth is not new. The ancients also saw their tools turned against them. The fire that cooked their food and warmed their hearths was the same fire that burned their villages. The sword that defended their homes was the same sword that enslaved their people. Always has the dual nature of invention lain before us: a mirror reflecting the heart of the user. The true danger lies not in the technology, but in the corruption of the will that commands it.

Therefore, let us hear the deeper wisdom: we must wed our progress not to terror, but to virtue. It is not enough to craft machines; we must also craft character. It is not enough to advance in travel; we must advance in wisdom, in compassion, in restraint. For if we give wings to hatred, it will fly farther. But if we give wings to love, it too will span the earth. The same ship that carries a tyrant’s army can also carry food to the hungry. The same airplane that becomes a missile in the hands of evil can become an ark of mercy in the hands of the just.

The lesson, then, is clear: we must guard our tools with the guardianship of our spirit. Watch carefully those who would use them, and weigh the hearts of leaders before entrusting them with power. And in your own life, when you wield the small tools of your day—words, devices, connections—ask yourself whether they bring life or destruction. Even a tongue, though small, can be a traveling missile if it carries hatred. But it can also be a healing balm if it carries kindness.

So I say to you, O children of tomorrow: be vigilant. Know that every blessing carries the shadow of danger. Do not curse technology nor progress, for they are gifts of the human spirit. But bind them with virtue, and chain them with responsibility, lest they be stolen by terror. In this balance lies the fate of nations, and the hope of peace for generations yet unborn. And remember this always: the true missile is not the machine, but the corrupted soul. Guard the soul, and you guard the world.