As soon as I finished watching Netflix’s series on Osama Bin Laden, it recommended another American Manhunt documentary by Netflix. This one is about the Boston Marathon bombings. I had read about the attack before, but watching the documentary made a much deeper impact.

What Are the Boston Marathon Bombings?

The Boston Marathon bombings were a terrorist attack that took place on April 15, 2013, during the annual Boston Marathon in the United States. Two homemade bombs exploded near the finish line, killing 3 people and injuring over 260 others.

The attackers were two brothers, Tamerlan and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, originally from Chechnya. They used pressure cooker bombs placed in backpacks. After the attack, a large manhunt followed. Tamerlan was killed in a shootout with police. Dzhokhar was captured, tried, and sentenced to death.

The Tsarnaev brothers claimed they carried out the Boston Marathon bombings as revenge for U.S. actions in Muslim countries like Iraq and Afghanistan. They believed that killing Americans was justified because of U.S. military involvement in those regions.

Dzhokhar wrote in a note that the attack was meant to defend Islam and punish the U.S. for killing Muslims abroad. However, they were not part of any organized terrorist group. Investigations found they were self-radicalized, influenced by extremist content online.

Their actions were widely condemned by Muslims and non-Muslims alike.

Thoughts

I’m not going to focus on the Tsarnaev brothers themselves, but rather on the general impression the documentary left on me.

You often see people justifying extremism, like the brothers did, whether it’s acts of violence or even celebrating natural disasters or someone’s illness, as payback for a country’s past actions. It’s all framed as if everything is justified. What’s troubling is that this mindset isn’t limited to radical groups. You sometimes see it in people around you: the so-called moderates. Some may appear balanced on the surface, but quietly endorse extremist views in subtle ways.

This exists across communities, not just one. There’s often only a thin line between those who wish for destruction and those who act on it. That line might be common sense, fear, or simply a lack of means. We may never know. The point is, the anger and hate that fuel such extreme actions are far more mainstream than we believe. I see it daily, on social media, and at times, even within my own circles. It’s not always loud or violent, but it’s there, simmering under the surface. The only time you get a glimpse of it is when disaster strikes.

For some, all it takes is a spark to turn toward extremism. For example, Tamerlan was a skilled amateur boxer with hopes of representing the U.S. in international competitions. However, after being denied a visa to compete abroad, he grew increasingly resentful. He reportedly believed the rejection was due to his Muslim identity and refused to accept any other reasons, which deepened his sense of alienation and fed into his radicalization. In a way, an extreme victim mentality played a significant role in his downfall. Tamerlan saw himself as targeted and wronged, interpreting setbacks as part of a broader injustice against Muslims. This mindset not only fueled his resentment but also made him more vulnerable to radical ideologies.

What’s alarming is the sheer scale of such hate. It has become disturbingly normalized. If a disaster strikes the U.S., or even India, I’m 100% sure there would be people to celebrate or justify it. And that, perhaps, is the most disturbing part: the way the line between the humane and the inhumane has begun to blur.

However, the hypocrisy lies in the fact that many of these individuals do not express the same anger toward countries like Iran, known for oppressing women, or Pakistan and Bangladesh, where minorities often face persecution. This selective outrage reveals a duality that many need to recognize and address.