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Posts Tagged ‘society’

Here, in the middle of Pride Month and with Juneteenth just a few days away, I began asking myself some questions, and in ruminating on one question, I landed on a surprising (to me) answer.

Maybe it’s because I’m old. Older. Calmer. With a longer view. More experience from which to draw and evaluate. Maybe.

Or maybe I just had an epiphany. A light-bulb moment—not in the sense of a sudden idea, but more like, Hey, I turned on the light and now I can see what was hiding in the shadows.

Or maybe it’s merely because I asked myself a question that I’d never asked before, never even thought of before.

Regardless of the why, the fact is that I did ask myself a question.

The question: What good is hate?

We all have emotions. It’s in our nature. We love, we fear, we get angry and happy and sad, and we hate*. If I were to posit factors common to them all, I would say that these emotions all
(a) cloud our rational judgement and
(b) have an upside.

Except hate. I just don’t see an upside to hate.

Love definitely clouds our judgement, blinding us to flaws, but it helps us bond and work for mutual benefit. Fear has obvious irrational downsides, but “the gift of fear” is that it can alert us to dangers of which we might not be cognizant. Anger, happiness, sadness, they’re more subtle, but the same factors apply.

Except hate.

I see no benefit to hate. There’s no “gift of hate,” no advantage it bestows that might counter its many and obvious drawbacks. Hate only clouds our judgement and makes it easier for us to do harm, wish ill, lash out, fight, hurt, kill.  Hate allows us to impute to others fictitious motivations, fueling our righteous anger. (Those immigrants aren’t coming here to steal your job. They’re just trying to make a better life, live in a safer place, or escape danger, just as you would.) Hate allows us to justify wrongs and persecute others for being different. (Someone who dresses in different clothes, loves a different type of person, or speaks a different language is not trying to make you do the same; they just want to live their life their way, not yours.)

But there’s nothing I do that requires hate. There’s no action that is instigated or accompanied by hate that I can’t also do without hate. I can dislike or avoid people, I can try to change a person’s mind or the way a system works, I can prosecute and jail someone for breaking the law, I can battle a foe with political or (if necessary) physical force, all without hatred. It could also be argued, that I might do all of those things better, more efficiently, absent any feelings of hate, as my judgement would not be clouded by passionate emotion that lead me astray.

There is so much around us today that is seeded in fear and fed by hate—of minorities, of LGBTQ+ folks, of immigrants, even of women—that it’s difficult to get to the core of any of it (much less all of it). I’m not saying we don’t have issues and problems that need to be resolved (we definitely do); I’m saying that it’d be a helluva lot easier to address those issues and problems if we didn’t hate so much. Hate is counter-productive. It only heightens confrontation, diminishes understanding, and leads to brute force methods when ratiocination would almost always provide a a better outcome. Hate is counter to peace.

People will disagree with me on this. Definitely. And if someone can point to an actual benefit for hate, please, shout it out. But saying that “it’s in our nature” isn’t a good enough reason to engage in it. To quote Rose Sayer (from The African Queen, 1951): “Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put in this world to rise above.”

k

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* In researching for this post, I asked “How many basic human emotions are there, and what are they?” The answers varied, of course, but in general they listed between four and seven basic human emotions. What I found surprising was that neither love nor hate were on the lists, even though (to me) they seem the most human of emotions.

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As often happens when performing mundane tasks, I was surfing through samples of bathroom tiles when it really hit me. The thought has been coming for a while—several months, if I’m honest—but even so, yesterday’s version was a mule-kick.

Strokes, heart attacks, cancers . . . relatives, friends, icons of my time: Death has been stalking my cohort, scything us down, bringing in the sheaves.

When combined with retirement broaching the horizon (I retire in a little over 300 days), it has become impossible not to look ahead toward my own end game. Facing facts, if I’m lucky, I probably have about twenty years before I hit my sell-by date. Twenty years. That may sound like a long time to some of you but let me tell ya, by the time you hit 65, it’s a blink, a flash, a mere moment. I’ve been working for fifty years. I’ve been married for forty years. I’ve been working for the same company for thirty years. I’ve lived in the same house for over twenty years. And those years, with all their challenges, their dreams, their lessons, they’ve sped by in a breathless rush, leaving only dusty memories.

So, twenty years does not feel like a long time, especially when it’s the final act of my story. It’s not like I had lofty ambitions. It’s not like I’m afraid I won’t “make my mark” or “live up to my potential” in my remaining time—I gave up on those tropes long ago—but I did expect that the path we’d all been traveling for most of my existence would plod along in the same basic direction, rather than taking the sharp U-turn that it has.

I think I can be forgiven for having had faith in our progress as a species. My earlier life saw increases in protections—for minorities, for women, for the environment, for consumers—and ever-greater acceptance of people as individuals. We survived wars and riots, assassinations and upheavals, and emerged confident, devoted to the betterment of society and cooperation between nations. Things were still far from perfect—far from acceptable, truth be told—but steps were being taken, and progress was being made, and I had faith in the trendline; I could see its upward arc and imagined my future, following it as a guide.

All that has changed. Or perhaps it only seems to have changed; more likely, I simply misjudged the breadth of human compassion and the influence of our “better angels.” While some . . . many . . . still work toward a society of inclusion and mutual respect, of peace and shared prosperity, many others live the dogma of exclusion, bent on the imposition of control over those unlike themselves.

Too many are now governed by the philosophy of NOT.
NOT this. NOT that. Thou shalt NOT.
–Thou shalt NOT teach about bad things in our past.
–Thou shalt NOT allow those unlike yourself to have the same opportunities as you.
–Thou shalt NOT even respect the facts.

The trendline of the next twenty years—likely my last—has been pretzeled into a knot, a strange loop from which we may not emerge while I live, if ever. And that’s a bitter pill.

The thing is, it’s so easy to be kind. In fact, it’s easier to be kind than it is to be hateful, angry, cruel. All that rage, it takes energy; it eats away at the psyche, corroding the soul.

I don’t have an answer, other than to be kind myself and advocate for kindness. Conflict has been with us forever—it’s part of our nature—so there will always be times when being kind is a challenge.

But it’s better to fail at being kind than never to try.

k

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Is there no coming back,
no retreat from this landscape of ire,
this canyon of sorrow

Far beyond the limits of hope,
bordered by despairing walls,
unable to care

Except for our own kind,
our own mind-like echoes,
our mirror selves

Where every difference,
each flower of nuance,
challenges the power

Born of our righteous rage,
grown fat on bias and lies,
clothed in trappings of heaven

Armed with tools of denial,
building myriad barricades,
but never a bridge

To link us,
to lift us,
to exalt

In all that we are?

k

 

 

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We Are

We are:
falling raindrops
drifting snowflakes
crystals of ice

Alone:
insignificant
small
powerless

Together:
an ocean, carving the earth
an avalanche, felling all in our path
a glacier, grinding stones to dust

We do not havthis power
We are this power

Do not give it
to those whose thirst
exceeds their capacity
to care

We are

k

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wolves we once were
and strong
with sharp-eyed mien
and lean-limbed hunger
joining together
to face
our foes

loyal to the pack
we protected our young
aided our weak
our society of many
united

but the fire drew us in
offered us warmth
against the world’s chill
taught us to hoard
the tossed scrap
rather than share
the pack-won prize

wolves we once were
but no more
having chosen the fire
our pack is weak
divided

with fleck-spittle snouts
we snarl at each other
through our broken fences
unable to wonder
who it is
that tosses us
their scraps

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The news, of late, has been bleak, so much so that I feel we can be forgiven if we find ourselves pervaded by thoughts of despair.

Race riots. Ascendant nationalism. Market instability. Climate crises. Dismantled safeguards. Increasing inequality. And now, a spreading pandemic.

Seriously bleak.

In years past, when faced with bleak times, I have found comfort in stepping back to take in the longer view. (more…)

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La Sainte MadeleineThe USA is beginning another of its quadrennial conversations.

Whassat? You weren’t aware that we had regular national conversations? Not to worry; most folks aren’t aware of it either, but we do have them. You probably know them better by their more common name, the General Election, where every four years we have this big national discussion in which we ask questions, listen to opinions, and (in theory) provide answers in the form of votes.

The problem: We’re not all asking the same questions, and in my opinion, we’re not asking the correct questions, either. (more…)

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