“Hate will only eat the truth, then spit out a lie.” -Anthony Liccione
There are words that feel like they embody their own meaning. The shape and the sounds of them as they escape the speaker’s mouth carry their emotional charge.
Love, lovely…Beginning as they do with the L right at the front of the mouth, and then the O that opens the mouth—they are like verbal caresses. Like gentle emotional exhalations.
And then there are those whose effect is the reverse. As a lover and teacher of language, I’m sensitive to these. I’ve been struck by the word UGLY, with its built-in exclamation of disgust: Ugh! And struck, too, that in other languages, it’s also without beauty. It’s one of the words I remember easily from my high school Spanish classes: FEO (pronounced fay-o), which has a merciless quality to it. In French class, when I’m introducing my students to the morphology and meaning of adjectives, I find myself pausing at the word for ugly, LAIDE (the feminine form, pronounced just like the English word “led”), or LAID (the masculine form—the D is silent). In each of these languages, there’s no way of saying it without it sounding harsh, judgemental and filled with disdain.
C’est laid! (it’s ugly).
When it comes up, I always ask my students whether it’s a word they use, and if so, how. And the consensus among us, regardless of our mother tongue, is that ugly is a word that is almost never required—and certainly not to describe people. When put on the spot, neither I nor my students ever seem to be able to come up with an example of someone we find so objectionable in appearance that they warrant being called ugly.
And then there’s HATE, with its hissed H. No matter what it sounds like in the languages of the world (does a word for it exist in every language, I wonder?), HATE is terrible, caustic, powerful, and vile when it’s aimed at human targets.
HATE. The roots of the word run deep, and it seems that no definition adequately encompasses the harm it can wreak. “Intense dislike” doesn’t begin to describe what I’ve seen unleashed in the world these past few years. I was a victim of both violence and bullying in childhood and adolescence, but I don’t know that I’ve ever felt hatred toward anyone. Honestly. Hate hurts, no matter which end of it you’re on.
The recent Charlottesville riots brought hate into my life in such pornographic fashion that for days, I felt ill; overwhelmed by a sense of sadness and shame for my race—the human race— and disgusted to be a member of a species that’s capable of emotional and cognitive savagery that is a form of self-immolation (hatred exists nowhere else in nature). It got me thinking about this heinous thing that I was seeing in faces and hearing in voices raging “You will not replace us!” “Jews will not replace us!” “Blood and Soil!” Blood and Soil!” “Whose streets? Ours streets?”. It expressed a desire for the brutish, degenerate shunning of most of the population: a rampant, mob propelled hysterical impulse to hunker down in a diminished world: one which, to me, would look a lot like what’s left in the sink strainer when everything else has flowed down the drain.
It was “Us” vs “Them”.
I know hatred when I see it and hear it, because I feel it. Hatred can be an invisible, cold, calculating and soulless thing, but at the Charlottesville neo-Nazi, fascist, white supremacist marches, its unleashed incarnation was rabid and fanatical. I believe that I saw a willingness, by a group of zealots, to lay waste to everything that harbours “Them”. In other words, a lethal campaign motivated by something dark and ugly (yes, the adjective is definitely appropriate here) and fratricidal.
What must it feel like to be one of those men holding torches and chanting hideous refrains? Do they feel their skin crawling? Do they experience an adrenaline-fuelled release of toxicity: shame, resentment, anger, fear, frustration and self-loathing? Surely it’s painful to be held in the grip of such poisonous thoughts and feelings.
“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.”
― James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time
The close-up shots of some of the marching Haters revealed the monstrousness of hate. The men on camera reminded me of angry baboons and hyenas.
To hate requires that a person summon stores of energy—a negative, aggressive, focused malignancy— and stoke it day after day. How can a person remain in such a corrosive state of being?
“Once you kill all of us, and you’re alone, you’ll die! The hate will die. That hate is what moves you, nothing else! That envy moves you. Nothing else! You’ll die, inevitably. You’re not immortal. You’re not even alive, you’re nothing but moving hate.”
― Ray Bradbury, A Pleasure to Burn: Fahrenheit 451 Stories
We’re not made to live this way. Nor are we made to cut ourselves off from our fellow humans. We’re programmed to feel what others feel and seek connection with them. All of THEM. We’re designed to recognise ourselves in each other. WE and THEY are simply the two sides of US.
I heard it said several times that you can only hate what you once loved. At first it gave me pause, but I’ve since come to believe that it’s nonsense. I prefer to pin my hopes on the belief that you can come to love what —and those—you have hated.
“The one thing you can’t take away from me is the way I choose to respond to what you do to me. The last of one’s freedoms is to choose one’s attitude in any given circumstance.”
― Viktor E. Frankl