The road into Mineth was half ice and half mud, and Rynae al’Gode guided her wobbling donkey cart with patient hands. The axle creaked, the wheels leaned at an angle that made onlookers wince, yet the donkey plodded on as it always had. In the cart lay nothing but bundles of parchment, a cracked lute, and words meant for evening fires. She was singing softly when the Whitecloaks stepped into the road. Their cloaks were clean, their armor bright, their faces hard with certainty. Inquisitor Malvar Daineth raised a gauntleted hand, and the donkey stopped. The cart swayed, lurched, nearly tipped. For a heartbeat it seemed the whole fragile thing might collapse into the snow. Daineth flinched. Later he would say the cart charged him. Later he would say he saw shadow in her eyes, danger in the way the wheels rattled toward the Light. Later he would say he had no choice. Rynae only steadied the reins and looked at him, calm as a woman who had spent her life naming truths aloud. “Be careful,” she said. “It’s a poor road for fear.” The donkey shifted. The cart creaked again. That was enough. Steel flashed. Daineth stepped forward and drove his sword through her, pinning her to the frozen ground as if she were a lie that needed fixing in place. The song ended mid-note. The cart tipped at last, spilling pages into the snow. The Whitecloaks moved on, satisfied that the Light had been defended. But that night, in Mineth, people swore they heard verses on the wind — steady, unafraid — and the road remembered what the Inquisitor did not: that a shaking cart is not a weapon, and that the Pattern keeps account of every blade.

Many of the female characters in The Wheel of Time behave in this manner. I refer to it as toxic femininity, and it constitutes an exact mirror image of the toxic masculinity that can be found today in certain strata of American society—extending even into the highest levels of politics, though as an outsider I refrain from naming names. A wink to those inclined to draw their own conclusions.

In Fal Dara, Lan utters a peculiar line about “sheathing the sword.” The meaning seems to lie in a great blademaster’s willingness to accept a mortal wound himself in order to destroy his foe. Thus the sword does not come to rest in the scabbard, but in his own body instead.

Well, I’ve been a recruit in the White Tower for a few weeks now, and I’d like to think that with my 300-plus posts I’ve made at least some kind of contribution to your — or rather, our — community. The responses and comments, however, have been rather thin on the ground, to put it mildly. This makes me wonder whether my posts were truly so dull and forgettable that they failed to spark any reaction at all, and whether it still makes sense to keep pondering ever more “interesting” topics. I’m not quite sure. Then again, it may simply be that the currently active ranks on Dragonmount have dwindled to such an extent that the number of interested readers has become almost negligible. Ah well — time will tell.

As my choice of subjects should make abundantly clear, I am driven by a particular resolve to bring the abominations of this fanatical movement into the full light of scrutiny. Core Patterns of Fanatical Movements Regardless of religious tradition, such movements tend to display the same underlying features — patterns that are strikingly reflected in the ideology and behavior of the Whitecloaks in The Wheel of Time: “Only we possess the truth.” An exclusive claim to moral and spiritual correctness, mirrored by the Whitecloaks’ conviction that only their interpretation of the Light is valid, while all others are misguided or corrupt. Sharp boundary-making (“us versus them”). The world is divided into the righteous and the condemned — a worldview central to the Whitecloaks, who categorize nearly everyone outside their order as suspect. Demonization of dissenters. Those who disagree are not merely wrong but actively evil. In the Whitecloaks’ logic, disagreement itself becomes evidence of allegiance to the Shadow. Rigid rules with little tolerance for doubt. Moral certainty replaces reflection. Among the Whitecloaks, doubt is treated not as a human weakness but as proof of moral failure. Authority that must not be questioned. Hierarchy is absolute, and obedience is framed as virtue. Whitecloak leadership embodies this principle, demanding submission in the name of righteousness while exempting itself from scrutiny. The character traits outlined above are, of course, not unique to religious movements, but are equally characteristic of other ideological movements. Above all: when a society lets down its guard, the slide into fundamentalism and authoritarianism follows with grim inevitability. Keep your eyes unclouded, stand watch, and summon the courage of citizens wherever conscience demands it.

The wisdom of the Grey Aes Sedai would be sorely needed in certain places down here (Mar-a-Lago, Gaza, Ukraine…). At present, it is hard to decide whether some of the negotiators are lacking in intelligence, in humanity, or in both. I have deliberately left the names unspoken.

Atha’an Shadar is a region on the Seanchan continent. It lies in the northern part of Seanchan, near the icy wastes. I wonder whether this inhospitable region is meant to parallel the land north of the Borderlands—what people in Randland commonly call the Waste—where the influence of the Dark One grows steadily stronger the farther north one travels. Does anyone know more about it?

As far as I have observed, the Grey Sisters primarily serve as diplomats, as they are exceptionally skilled in negotiation and logic. With these qualities, I believe they most closely compete with the White Ajah—would that be a fair assessment? As for their weaknesses, I cannot say very much; at times they appear overly hesitant and indecisive. Furthermore, considering the numerous—often military—conflicts raging throughout the Randlands, I find myself questioning just how effective their negotiating skills truly are. Am I right?

Within the Order of the Children of the Light, are there disproportionately many followers of the Dark One, and if so, what might explain this?” Within The Wheel of Time, there are indeed strong hints that the Children of the Light contain a disproportionately high number of Darkfriends. Not because the entire order is corrupt, but because its structure and ideology create fertile ground for hidden servants of the Shadow. Orthodox movements built upon a rigid dogmatic framework tend to foster a sense of superiority over all who do not belong to their organisation or creed. This, in turn, breeds a constant mistrust of others; one begins to suspect betrayal and conspiracy everywhere. The moral framework is placed in jeopardy, and ethical principles are cast aside. The Children fight the Shadow, but they do so with harshness, fear, and oppression. Such an environment allows anyone already inclined to overstep moral boundaries to remain hidden with ease. The power granted to them — or seized by them — tempts them to increase it further by currying favour with whoever appears strongest, or claims to be. The Dark One promises immense, unbounded power to those who serve him

Some of the structures and political intrigues within the fabric of Randland reveal certain parallels and similarities to our real world. One example is everyday life in the White Tower. Internal quarrels often lead to institutional gridlock, with important decisions being delayed or heavily watered down. The Ajahs rarely present a united front, as each group pursues its own interests (much like the political situation within the European Union). Truth often has many faces; groups interpret events in divergent ways, and only a few conclusions truly reflect reality. Instead of focusing together on real threats (the Seanchan, the Forsaken, the Shadow), they lose themselves in internal power struggles. As a result, we see parties or political factions blocking one another, mistrust between institutions growing, and internal conflicts weakening the ability to solve problems. Does that ring a bell for anyone?”

In The Great Hunt, Liandrin encounters Rand for the first time, and as far as I remember, she wraps him in bands of Air to suffocate him. Really? Did she actually have the authority to kill someone—especially since she knew nothing of Rand’s ability to channel—without any formal procedure and without any claim of self-defense? Would she have gotten away with that under the jurisdiction of the White Tower? Only because she was a "Red Sister"? Could they do to men whatever they wanted under the law of the WT? Everyone talks about toxic masculinity these days, and rightfully so. Here we have a fine example of its female counterpart.

Thanks for clarification, it's really worthwile considering this option as well!

What you say is probably true: evil deeds are not committed solely at the behest of religious dogma (one need only recall the atrocities of Stalinism and National Socialism). Yet since God evidently represents the highest authority for believers, His mandate—be it commandment, injunction, or imperative—is the least likely to be questioned and is followed with the greatest zeal and devotion. When God curses the descendants of Ham and relegates them to the status of second-class beings, is it any wonder that people then set about enslaving and persecuting them with fervor, regarding them as second-class human beings—right up to the present day? Critical thinking has no room to arise in such a context. But of course you are right again: This subject seems only loosely connected to the history of Randland. Or perhaps not? It keeps that subtle tension and invites the reader to question the connection. Its late, and tired recruits love their evening-Grappa, and thats exactly what I intend to do. Have a nice evening and love to hear from you again!

It is undisputed that there are religious people who do good, and they deserve full credit for it. On the other hand, there is nothing in the realm of human empathy or humanism that atheists could not also do — or perhaps even do better. In any case, when they perform good deeds, they do not cast a glance toward a heavenly reward, but act for the sake of the good itself. And one more thing: good people do good things, bad people do bad things — but it takes religion to make good people commit atrocities. Have a nice Christmas holiday, best 73, --.../...-- from Calean

Exactly my thoughts as well!