Faces of hate

Bigotry and racism have been much in the news lately. With racial assaults and nonviolent marches in Georgia, downstate New York, and even as near as Middletown, a question arises as to the roots of hatred. Unfortunately, racism is one of those expressions of a general and latent hatred that seems to be in all people.

Hatred is a hydr-headed monster which manifests itself in varied fashions. Sometimes it masquerades as patriotism, as it did in Hitler's Germany or Joe McCarthy's red-baiting. Its masks are innumerable, all concealing the same ugliness beneath.

For instance, some who live here in the river valley have their own expressions of hatred. Some natives, apparently forgetting that we are a nation of immigrants, shun newcomers to the area. They are apparently seen as somehow different, if not because of the color of their skin, then simply because they are viewed as outsiders.

Since the valley was settled, there have been disputes between neighbors. Historically, many of these issues -- like implementation of zoning or school consolidation -- were quite rancorous. The current dispute over the presence of the National Park Service (NPS) is only the latest in a series of such arguments.

Change is often difficult to tolerate, and the issue has given rise to cruel fears, fed by ignorance. That is because one cause of hate is often fear. People tend to despies that which they are afraid of. Hate is not a strength, it is a weakness -- in individuals and in society.

Recently, after a river planning meeting, surrounded by a crowd of at least ten able-bodied men, one of my neighbors (who disagrees with me over the NPS) laughed at me as my vehicle became stuck in the snow and no one offered to help. "Isn't it nice to have friends?" he asked sarcastically.

I felt badly for the man, that he malice seething from him seemed to go so far beyond the relatively small issue of the park service. More important than the politics of any river, is that neighbors live together in tolerance and peace.

Fortunately, there were others at the meeting who did come out to help, for which I was grateful.

What really matters is not the content of the dispute (the NPS or the river), not whether it was a ranger or a local who refused to help me. The real tragedy is that such an issue has generated sufficient animosity that a group of people chose not to assist someone in need.

In my mind, there are few valid excuses for failing to help a neighbor, or for using politics as an excuse to make personal attacks on a fellow human.

Usually people discover that kindred bond of community and service which also exists in each of us, together with the darker side. But not always. Which raises the question that for ages has plagued policy-makers, theologians, counselors, and others concerned with the human condition. What is the best way to deal with people who succomb to hatred, to ease the collective and individual pain it brings?

It is difficult to be involved in such a situation and yet avoid the cycle of violence -- psychic or physical -- which like an unquenchable fire seems to consume all that is good in humanity.

The prophet Elijah described "a still small voice" from within. Some believe this is our only hope for survival as a race. That voice invariably speaks in opposition to the inner potential for hatred.

Our difficulty -- both individually and collectively -- is in listening and making choices we will be comfortable with later. But one thing is certain -- we must never give up hope or quit the struggle within ourselves to find that voice, which will lead to a solution.

-- Tom Rue, contributing editor

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