The Seduction Of Cruelty
If you have ever rejoiced in someone’s pain, you are the most evil person on earth. I am kidding. You are not. If that were true, the entire world would be evil. Yet taking pleasure in another’s suffering is profoundly wrong, and still it gives us a peculiar satisfaction. It is like smoking a cigarette. You know it offers no real benefit, yet it feels indulgently good.
For someone who belongs to a specific community, hating another often feels almost mandatory. A Muslim is expected to hate a Jew. A Jew is expected to distrust a Muslim. A person in the opposition may secretly wish misfortune upon the country so that the ruling party is criticised and, hopefully, thrown out.
These thoughts seem banal when they pass quietly through our minds. But if we were to truly contemplate their consequences, we would appear undeniably evil. Satan does not exist as a singular entity; it resides in those impulses. It lives in such ideas. Instead of indulging in whataboutery, let us examine the repercussions of our wishes.
When two communities descend into religious war, innocent people die. Crucial infrastructure is destroyed. Children inherit a homeland with no stable future. The scope of prosperity collapses to nothing. Hopes are extinguished with brutal finality. All of this because one believes that following a particular faith necessitates the destruction of another. Or worse, that historical grievances must be avenged in the present.
The world is passing through turbulent times. We stand on the brink of major conflict. Powerful nations openly wish pain upon weaker ones they regard as enemies.
I understand geopolitical tensions. I understand that war is sometimes framed as the ultimate price paid for lasting peace. But can we at least stop rejoicing in death? I can accept that empathy is difficult, especially for those with whom we do not identify. Celebrating their deaths, however, feels barbaric.
Thousands of years of civilisational wisdom, and yet we relapse into sadistic impulses simply because we are instructed to hate a particular community, told that harming them is justified.
If war becomes the only option, then it may have to be waged. There are moments when failing to strike means being struck. I understand that logic. My argument is for clinical necessity, not sadistic indulgence. If destruction must occur, it should be devoid of celebration.
Every time I see people deriving pleasure from the deaths of those they despise, I am reminded of the futility of our supposed evolution. In the end, our beliefs often bend to what is convenient.
If killing others serves our convictions, we rationalise it. If they kill us, it suddenly becomes morally reprehensible. Ethics begin to look like theatre, while sadism reveals itself as the uncomfortable constant. At least it exposes the barbarity we quietly harbour within.
The world feels poised for a reset. It has been more than a hundred years since the First World War and eighty since the Second. There is a strange restlessness in the air, as though peace itself has grown tedious and humanity itches for another grand catastrophe.
It sometimes seems as though hatred will not subside until we witness carnage firsthand. Until the sight of blood on the streets and children orphaned shocks us into revulsion. Perhaps only then will we pass on to the next generation a genuine reverence for enduring peace.