A Few Thoughts on Leftist Hatred

It's not about what they love…it's about what they hate.

We’ve all heard it.

The Right is a hate-group. It spreads hate, it traffics in hate-speech, it sows the seeds of hate throughout society, it says hateful things. The Right, among a certain segment of society, is depicted as the purveyor of hatred, as against the libertine, love-is-love, “just do what feels good” Left.

Carefully concealed in this narrative, of course, is the fact that many on the Right are, on the contrary, motivated by a fierce love—a love of one’s country perhaps, or a love of one’s people, or maybe a love and respect for one’s past and traditions, one’s religion and ancestors, and the civilization that was shaped and molded by these disparate factors.

And when those things are relentlessly attacked and undermined by a group of people who have made it clear that their primary objective is to destroy the things that you love and cherish, and who are motivated by a deep and abiding hatred of you and yours…well, yes, sometimes it is necessary to hate your declared enemy, who is devoted to your eradication, and the eradication of all that you hold dear.

I began thinking about these things recently in the wake of a conversation—an argument, really—with a Leftist friend. This is an individual for whose left-wing views I had often made excuses to myself, assuming it was more of a “class thing,” a desire not to be associated with the low-status ideology of the hated and despised rednecks and “MAGA-tards.” His commitment to leftism, I assured myself, was merely superficial, and probably just an outgrowth of a disagreeable personality.

But it became clear during the course of the argument that this friend had deeply imbibed the most radical left-wing ideology, and that it had poisoned his thinking. Or perhaps that was the wrong interpretation—maybe his thinking was poisonous all along, and this had led him to gravitate toward leftism in the first place.

This brings me back to my earlier thoughts about hate, and the frequent hurling of this slur against the Right. Because there were, in all honesty, warning signs about my friend’s character that ought to have alerted me to his receptiveness to leftist ideology long ago.

To be frank, the friend in question is an individual whom many would classify as an asshole. The arrogance, the dismissiveness, the casual cruelty—it was all there. But most importantly is the fact that my friend always waxed most eloquently and passionately about his hates, which were gigantic and almost without number.

I have never encountered an individual, personally, who was more filled with hate. I’ll concede that there are certainly those on the Right who are largely or even mostly motivated by hate; perhaps there is good reason for that, as we all know there often is, even if it can be taken to a counterproductive extreme.

But not once did my friend present to me a positive leftist vision of the future…you know, something ennobling and inspiring, something attractive and worth striving for. It was simply a matter of enumerating his prodigious hatreds, as if these alone would win me over to his cause. Actually, I don’t think the man truly loves anything at all—it is merely a sliding scale of hatreds, with those things he hates less clustering toward the more positive side.

This friend of mine, a committed votary of the ideology of “love” and “tolerance” and “compassion,” only really came alive when discussing those whom he hated. And I don’t use “hate” in any casual sense: this was the kind of red-faced, invective-laced, froth-producing hatred that seems almost comical, and frequently was. But my friend was always in deadly earnest—he hated these people with a passion that was almost breathtaking.

For some reason, undoubtedly owing to the inability of the majority of the country to afford to live in blue cities and blue states, my friend always found himself living in red states. And wherever he lived, he violently loathed the people around him. To begin with, he despised the people of Florida; as a native Floridian, I was willing to concede that he probably had a point. But he also passionately reviled the people of North Carolina, where he was born; I know very little about the people of North Carolina, so perhaps his hatred is justified, but I was unqualified to fairly judge the situation.

Nevertheless, a pattern seemed to be forming.

Finally he found himself, for whatever reason, living in northwestern Arizona, where he found employment as a registered nurse—not, apparently, from an overwhelming compassion or even a calling to administer medical care to his fellow man, but from the understanding that there was money to be made in this field. Far be it from me to criticize a man’s desire to get ahead in life, but nursing was certainly an odd career choice for a person entirely lacking in even the rudiments of empathy or what might be called a bedside manner.

Because his near genocidal hatred of the people of northwestern Arizona, the very people whom he is paid to care for as part of his job, was the final confirmation that it was not actually the people among whom my friend’s lot was cast that were the problem—it was my leftist friend himself who was the problem.

And the reason, as I indicated above, is simply that he is an asshole. A genuine, miserable son-of-a-bitch.

The primary reason for his allegiance to the Left, it finally dawned on me, is that it provides some sort of intellectual justification for the visceral hatred he seems to chronically feel for the people around him. He is, I suppose, an old-school misanthrope, a hater of mankind in detail and in the abstract; and of course it isn’t only him, because I have encountered many leftists just like him, always ready to explain to you with loving exactness their exquisite, delicious hatreds for those who disagree with them, or stand up to them, or thwart their aims for society in even the slightest and most innocuous ways.

The litany of my friend’s hatreds was a thing to behold. Naturally, anyone who is right-wing, including myself, must be physically destroyed—executed, and permanently removed from society. Christianity, moreover, was an especial object of his ire; the religiously inclined, by which of course he meant Christians, were often subjected to the most abusive and irrational hatred. I think there must be something in the theory that leftism and wokeism is a kind of secularized, desacralized, and nebulous Christianity, because the passionate hatred these people have for it is of the kind that can only be harbored for a feared competitor.

He hated the unvaccinated with an almost superstitious species of hatred. The kind of hatred the pre-moderns must have felt for the demonic entities of the invisible world. As a registered nurse, I imagined his anger at them reflected his overwhelming concern for their health and wellbeing. Nothing of the kind. They were stupid, unworthy Trumpsters, and their refusal to be vaccinated was construed as a threat to him, personally, and a blatant indication of their status as something not quite human.

Since my friend was, of course, vaccinated, and therefore could not be anything other than a “dead end” to the virus, the refusal of some of the patients to be vaccinated could not possibly harm him in the least; I could understand his anger if he were truly solicitous of their health, like a kindly but baffled medical worker in some remote African backwater, striving to uplift the benighted savages whom he so loved.

Nope.

He hated these people with a passion. Their deaths by means of the coronavirus could only be a cause for celebration to him; I often wondered about that: why he was so angry, since if these unvaccinated were decimated by the disease, he would be rid of those he hated so much. The whole Trump-loving half of the country would be gone, and he and his fellow miserable leftist bastards could live in the utopia they’d always dreamed of.

Maybe that was the problem. They weren’t dying, and it could be that was the most galling and infuriating thing of all to him.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that leftist hatred is real, and it is not something to be overlooked or ignored. When people speak about “our heroes” in the medical profession, I often think of my friend and his vicious contempt for those in his care, and though it is unjust to smear the entire field on the strength of one bad apple, I know that he cannot be alone, and that there must be others like him.

More importantly, I have often thought how someone like him must never be in a position of real power in society; I could never consent to my friend holding any sway over my destiny, or anyone else’s for that matter, since the only thing that ever seemed to motivate him is hatred and a desire for vengeance—though vengeance for what I cannot imagine.

But the reality is that people like him do hold positions of real power in society. In fact, that is precisely how we got into this mess in the first place. The gleeful overthrow of traditions, the smashing of statues and works of art, the holocaust in the cities during the “Summer of Love,” the unrestricted invasion of our countries by the Third World, the flooding of our streets with deadly drugs, the hollowing out of native industry, the relentless whittling away of the middle class, the deliberate destruction of relations between men and women, the poisoning of our educational institutions, the humiliation rituals, the obfuscation and rewriting of a past that is worth celebrating—all these things, and much else, have been done to us by men and women in positions of power who feel precisely as my friend feels.

Pure, spiteful, unadulterated hatred. The kind of hatred that thinks nothing of sacrificing the young men of the hated underclass in costly, ill-advised foreign wars and adventures, all for the greater glory and aggrandizement of the regime elites, the self-proclaimed “masters of the world.” The kind of hatred that rigs elections and keeps secrets to escape accountability, and cynically and contemptuously undermines the democratic will of the people, while screaming incessantly about the threats and dangers to democracy.

We should never underestimate the Left’s hatred. It is like a force of nature, and it colors everything they do. I think they must be, to put it bluntly, a collection of misanthropic assholes and hate-filled, miserable sons-of-bitches; that would explain a great deal of history.

The “compassionate” Left.

Joe Biden is a perfect example of this kind of leftist, especially when he is angry, which is frequent. Red-faced. Wild-eyed. Countenance screwed up in a twisted expression of rage. Fists clenched. The perfect embodiment of blind, impotent hatred.

I’ll close with a final observation. Arguing with my friend, I learned a valuable lesson: if it seems that the crimes inflicted upon us by the Regime, which is the Left, have no other motivating factor than pure, genocidal hatred…well, there is a very good reason for that. It is simply because the motivating factor is genocidal hatred, and likely nothing else.

And that is, I think, something we must never forget.