In the quiet town of Illinois, a six-year-old Palestinian American boy, Wadea Al-Fayoume, fell victim to a horrifying act of violence. His life was tragically cut short by his Jewish landlord, an incident that unfolded against the backdrop of hostilities between Hamas and Israel in a distant part of the world. This brutal act, driven by inter-group animosity, serves as a chilling reminder of the devastating consequences of deep-seated hatred.
War, as governed by the Geneva Conventions, has its own rules (mostly, in theory), but the everyday violence and hostilities rooted in hatred often operate outside these boundaries. What I call the long 20th century, spanning from 1914 to 2023, has witnessed industrialization of warfare that claimed more lives than any other century in history.
Shockingly, this era has also seen a higher ratio of civilian deaths per soldier than ever before. While geopolitical and economic factors undoubtedly contribute to conflicts, it is essential to recognize the role of hatred in perpetuating violence and division among communities.
Former US President Jimmy Carter astutely pointed out that every individual harbours the capacity for hatred within themselves. This acknowledgment highlights the banality of evil, a concept introduced by political philosopher Hannah Arendt. The notion of inter-group hatred, often driven by fear of the unfamiliar, is a recent phenomenon. The term "xenophobia," meaning fear of the stranger, emerged only in the 19th century.
As the world becomes more diverse, paradoxically, xenophobia and hatred have surged. People tend to define their identity through ethnicity, religion, or nationality, often leading to a sense of "we-ness" that is inherently built on the exclusion of the "other." In this multi-ethnic and multi-religious global landscape, understanding the origins of hatred is imperative.
Philosophers have delved deep into the concept of hatred, challenging us to contemplate its complexities. Is hatred a product of socialization? Do children learn to hate at home when they are taught that certain groups are to be avoided? Hatred is cultivated, it is not innate. It is important to capture the roots of hatred in culture through which thorough everyday practice becomes a deeply rooted human sentiment.
Following the Hamas attack on Israel of October 7, a former Indian ambassador Talmiz Ahmad was interviewed in a Karan Thapar show where he, an expert on the Middle East politics, provided an analysis as objectively as possible, yet the knee-jerk comments that followed online were manifestations of group-hatred.
Many declared their support for Israel without any justification. So, the question is why are some people gratuitous in their hatred? Why do they lack a sense of common humanity? Why is empathy often limited to in-group, religion, and ethnicity?
The roots are to be found in their upbringing. I am sure, many of these writers of comments are highly educated and professional, yet they have deviated far from the teachings of Mahatma Gandhi. While actor Wallace Shawn, who is of Jewish heritage himself, was seen holding a banner: “My grief is not your weapon.” He was demonstrating outside White House demanding Ceasefire Now.
Bill Moyers, a respected journalist and former US President Johnson's Press Secretary, engaged influential figures like Nobel laureates, Holocaust survivors, and activists in profound discussions about hatred.
Their experiences, either as victims or witnesses, shed light on the varied faces of hatred. Leaders like Vaclav Havel and Nelson Mandela managed to transcend hatred. I still remember the day when I saw Nelson Mandela walking into the Ballroom of Shangri-La Hotel in Singapore to give his address accompanied by a young white bodyguard. Mandela broke the cycle of hatred.
Former President Jimmy Carter, a peacemaker renowned for his role in the Camp David Accords, shared a poignant anecdote. He recounted the transformation of hatred into trust between Egyptian President Anwar Sadat and Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin.
Despite their initial animosity, an orchestrated environment at Camp David fostered interactions, leading to a breakthrough agreement. This story underscores the potential for change through participation, communication, and mediation, demonstrating that even the most entrenched enemies can become trusted neighbours.
Elie Wiesel, a Holocaust survivor, succinctly captured the escalation from words to violence, stating, "When language fails, violence becomes the language." Deep-seated mutual suspicion and hatred perpetuate unending wars and hostilities, creating a vicious cycle that engulfs societies in turmoil.
I recall a poignant account shared by an American Bangladeshi Muslim professional residing in Pittsburgh. Following the Oklahoma bombing in 1995, he feared being targeted in a hate crime, suspecting that the incident might be falsely attributed to Muslims.
This experience profoundly connected him with the vulnerability felt by minorities, fostering empathy for others who faced similar prejudice in his land of origin, Bangladesh. His own prejudice began to dissolve as he walked in the shoes of the vulnerable.
In the face of rising xenophobia and hatred, it is imperative that we break this cycle. Empathy, understanding, and education are our most potent tools. By fostering connections, encouraging dialogue, and promoting cultural exchange, we can begin to dismantle the walls of prejudice and hatred.
It is our collective responsibility to challenge the banality of hatred and create a world where empathy and compassion will break the cycle of mistrust and hatred.
Habibul Haque Khondker is a sociology professor at Zayed University, Abu Dhabi who previously taught at the National University of Singapore.