Sometimes the working classes are besieged by an army of the ruthlessly dependent. As unmoved by decency as they are contemptuous of self-reliance, these mooching tyrants mercilessly invade the homes of the well-to-do. They raid the coffers of the successful for security against the threat of having to provide for their own welfare. And they are not satisfied with being a burden, living in splendor built on the hardened backs of those who pay their keep. No, having deemed themselves entitled to the treasures of others, these hordes of parasites tear asunder the communities of their benefactors, murdering the leaders and enslaving the population to a new generation of dependents.
In time, this new generation raised on handouts will organize to subjugate another once-independent colony and bend another set of hardworking backs to the government of the freeloader. And thus the cycle begins anew.
But every so often, those workers raise their dirtied, hardened backs to shrug against the yoke of their bondage. They may not drive out their slavers in a night—or a fortnight—but they can, perhaps, gain some bit of solace in undermining a murderous, foreign regime sustained by the fruit of their labor. They do this not for themselves—for there is hope, but not for them—but for their unconquered neighbors. They fight on because, one day, the parasitic menace might be defeated, and future generations might thrive in peace and independence. Freedom is not free. But there is vengeance.