Can’t Relate to Hate

Despite its global appeal, I can’t relate to hate. I suppose the closest I’ve come to experiencing hate is my gag reflex response to slime.

Once my mother told me I couldn’t have ice cream until I cleaned my plate. I dreaded the cooked spinach, but I completed my half of the bargain. Then my mother reneged on our deal. I never got the ice cream she promised. At the time, I’m not sure I was in the mood for ice cream anyway, because I reneged on eating the cooked spinach all over the table. I think my gag reflex response to slime is instinctive, but psychological reasons might’ve contributed.

Another time a family of vagrants squatted in an abandoned shack in our neighborhood, until the police evicted them a matter of days later. The oldest daughter bet us she’d swallow a slug. The neighborhood kids and I were both intrigued and revolted when she performed the delectable deed. She dared us with a second course, same as the first, dangling between her outstretched fingers. No takers, she didn’t let the morsel go to waste. Looking back, slugs were probably a vital source of protein in her diet, but as kids we never considered that.

Now, I harbor absolutely no interest in ingesting either cooked spinach or raw slugs. Avoidance solves the problem; and I’ve reached a stable, emotional plateau. I don’t hate spinach. I’ll eat raw spinach in a salad without trauma. As long as they lie low, I don’t hate slugs, in particular or as a group.

Hate requires chronic frustration without hope of reprieve. For hate to grow, people need to feel oppressed, blaming a real or imagined scapegoat. I’ve never identified with being a victim. I don’t hate to admit it, but I can’t relate to hate.

While the Cat's Away

"While the cat's away, the mice will eat the cream," an Israeli colleague, at Microsoft, told me. A familiar saying with a twist, I thought. It sounded odd. "You mean, 'While the cat's away, the mice will play'?" In fact, my friend had translated his version from Hebrew into English. As far as I'd known, my version was an American original. The boss was away, we knew what we meant, or so we thought. Remembering back, I'm not so sure.

In American tradition, we might say that our boss, King George, was the cat; and we kicked him, his redcoats, and his Hessians back across the pond. Every Fourth of July we celebrate our independence. It's "An American Tale." "There are no cats in America."

But in Hebrew tradition the cat always comes back. So, fill your bellies while the food is unguarded. 'Life is a perpetual struggle' is embedded in Hebrew literary tradition. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." Islamic law has a reciprocal history. Existence is a never ending cycle of vengeance. Peace has no chance when attrition governs conditioned responses, with annihilation as the only exit strategy. Despite historical attempts, ethnic cleansing and genocide are not valid paths toward peace.

Traditions are mired in the past. The world has changed, but mindsets haven't. So conflict prevails while survival tactics eclipse sustainability goals. Peaceful thoughts, strategies, and ideals are prerequisites for world peace to succeed. Eons of Middle Eastern culture are in desperate need of transcendent mindset updates, for peace to earn a fair chance of success.