Posts Tagged ‘Alhambra Decree’
“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain”*…
Your correspondent is off again, so (R)D will be on hiatus until Friday the 4th. In the meantime…
Dr. Sam Goldstein with an all-to-timely reminder…
Hate is often described as an emotion, but it is actually a learned behavior. Unlike fear, sadness, or love—emotions that are instinctive and universal—hate does not exist independently. It is shaped by fear, anger, stress, and social conditioning, developing over time rather than emerging naturally. Hate can be directed at people, ideas, or entire groups, influencing individuals and societies in ways that range from casual dislike to extreme violence. But if hate is learned, can it be unlearned? To break the cycle, we must understand how hate forms, how it manifests in our language and actions, and what we can do to replace it with something better.
The word “hate” has deep historical roots, originating from the Old English hatian, meaning “to despise” or “to wish evil upon.” It stems from the Proto-Germanic hatajan and the Proto-Indo-European kad, which means “to grieve” or “to suffer.” This connection suggests that hate was initially tied to pain, not necessarily hostility.
Over time, its meaning evolved. Today, people use “hate” casually—saying things like “I hate traffic” or “I hate Mondays”—to express mild annoyance. On social media, phrases like “haters gonna hate” trivialize the concept, making it seem inevitable and dismissing criticism as a product of jealousy or negativity.
But the same word is also used to describe serious moral opposition, such as “I hate injustice” or “I hate oppression.” In its most dangerous form, hate leads to profound social and political divisions, fueling discrimination, violence, and even war. While language shapes how we perceive hate, the real question is why it develops in the first place.
If hate isn’t an emotion, what is it? At its core, hate is a response to fear, stress, and anger. It is reinforced through experience, social pressure, and cultural narratives. Hate is not something we are born with—it is something we learn.
Fear plays a significant role. People often hate what they don’t understand or perceive as a threat. This is why xenophobia and racial prejudice exist. The unfamiliar makes people uncomfortable, and in that discomfort, hate is cultivated.
Stress and anger also fuel hate. When individuals feel powerless, overwhelmed, or frustrated, they search for something to blame. Hate becomes a means to direct negative emotions outward. This is evident in scapegoating, where specific groups are held responsible for economic hardship, crime, or societal decline.
The us vs. them mentality fuels hatred. Humans are inherently tribal, creating groups based on identity—race, nationality, religion, or ideology. This fosters the belief that our group is superior while viewing their group as the enemy. Hatred deepens this divide, making it easier to rationalize discrimination and violence.
Personal experience can turn resentment into hate. A betrayal, ongoing mistreatment, or a history of injustice can lead someone to develop deep-seated hostility. In many cases, what starts as personal pain becomes generalized toward an entire group, reinforcing division cycles.
Hate is also learned. From childhood, individuals absorb beliefs from family, media, and society. When a child grows up in an environment that demonizes certain groups, that perspective often becomes deeply ingrained. This is why racism, sexism, and religious intolerance persist across generations.
Finally, the internet has amplified hate like never before. Social media allows people to express extreme views without accountability. Hate spreads through online mobs, echo chambers, and misinformation, making it more difficult to challenge false narratives and prejudices.
Hate is destructive not just to its targets but also to those who hold it. It consumes energy, distorts reality, and fosters resentment. Research shows that people who cling to hate experience higher levels of stress, anxiety, and even physical health issues. Hate undermines mental and emotional well-being.
On a larger scale, hate causes social division. It tears families apart, fuels political and racial tensions, and makes it nearly impossible for societies to progress together. Hate-driven violence—including hate crimes, terrorism, and genocide—has tragically shaped history, demonstrating that unchecked hatred leads to devastating consequences. However, if hate is learned, it can also be unlearned. The cycle is not inevitable.
The first step in breaking free from hate is awareness. Recognizing that hate is not an emotion, but a response driven by fear, stress, and conditioning allows us to question the origins of our biases. Education plays a crucial role in this process. Exposure to diverse cultures, perspectives, and ideas challenges misconceptions and diminishes fear.
Challenging stereotypes is another powerful tool. Many forms of hate are based on false generalizations. Real-life interactions with people from different backgrounds help dissolve these misconceptions and build bridges instead of walls.
Empathy is the most potent antidote to hate. When we take the time to understand another person’s experiences, it becomes difficult to hold onto hostility. Compassion takes the place of resentment when we realize that those we dislike have struggles, dreams, and fears just like our own.
Letting go of hate requires emotional regulation. Practicing mindfulness, engaging in therapy, or using basic stress management techniques can help individuals break free from cycles of anger and resentment. Though challenging, forgiveness often serves as the key to moving forward.
Constructive dialogue is essential. Many people avoid discussions about complex topics because they fear conflict. But avoiding conversation only deepens the divide. Engaging in open, respectful discussions about race, politics, and ideology can break down barriers and create understanding.
We all share the responsibility of taking action against hate. This can be as simple as opposing discrimination when we see it or supporting organizations that work to dismantle hate. Every act of kindness, every moment of patience, and every attempt to understand another perspective contributes to a world with less hate.
Hate is neither an emotion nor an instinct—it is a habit, a behavior, a learned response. It represents a destructive way of thinking. Just like any habit, it can be changed. While it may feel powerful in the moment, hate ultimately weakens the person who harbors it. It isolates, consumes, and destroys. But we have a choice. Instead of hate, we can choose curiosity. Instead of division, we can select understanding. Instead of anger, we can opt for growth. The opposite of hate isn’t necessarily love—it’s the willingness to listen, learn, and let go. That is something every single one of us can strive for…
How to break a habit that isolates, consumes, and destroys: “Why Do We Hate?” from @drsamgoldstein.bsky.social in @psychologytoday.com.
(Image above: source)
* James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time
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As we look beyond loathing, we might recall that it was on this date in 1492 that the joint Catholic Monarchs of Spain (Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon, the patrons of Columbis) issued and “executive order” commanding the expulsion of practising Jews from the Crowns of Castile and Aragon and its territories and possessions within four months, by July 31 of that year– the Alhambra Decree (AKA, the Edict of Expulsion). It had been strongly advocated by the Inquisitor General of Spain, Tomás de Torquemada, “the hammer of heretics, the light of Spain, the saviour of his country, the honor of his order,” per Spanish chronicler Sebastián de Olmedo. Subsequent history has been less kind. By virtue of his approval, even advocacy, of practices including torture and burning at the stake, his name has become synonymous with cruelty, religious intolerance, and fanaticism.
“As for us Indians, we have our own problem before us. It is the problem of the world in miniature. India is too vast in its area and too diverse in its races. It is many countries packed in one geographical receptacle.”*…
The current approach to this challenge seems to be (to oversimplify, if only slightly) to create a majoritarian Hindu state that homogenizes those differences. But it wasn’t always so. Scott Stroud tells the story of Bhimrao Ambedkar, an Indian student of John Dewey, who worked for a very different, more inclusive, kind of country…
When one thinks of American pragmatism, one often puts too much emphasis on the American part. It might even stunt our enquiry, irrevocably fixating on thinkers such as John Dewey, William James, and Jane Addams. But there is more to the story of pragmatism than what happened in the United States around the turn of the 20th century. Pragmatism itself was a flexible, loosely allied approach to thinking that held few maxims in common other than the idea that our theorising and arguing ought to come from lived experience and ought to return back to experience as the ultimate test of its value. Its advocates such as Dewey greatly affected nations such as China through his teaching and lecturing, leading us to see that pragmatism has a global narrative connected with it. Is there a similar tale to be told about pragmatism and its interactions with India?
Any narrative of pragmatism’s influence and evolution in India will centre on Bhimrao Ambedkar, a student of Dewey’s at Columbia University in New York. Some might recognise Ambedkar (1891-1956) as a chief architect of the Indian constitution in the 1940s. Others might recognise him as the indefatigable leader of India’s ‘untouchables’ (now denoted by the self-chosen label ‘Dalit’), given his constant advocacy for the rights of those oppressed by the complex and long-rooted caste system. Ambedkar himself was a so-called untouchable, which only fortified his commitment to seeking justice in the law and in social reforms for India’s most vulnerable populations. At the end of his life, he channelled his frustration at the prevailing caste consciousness within Hindu society into a conversion effort that tried to convince his fellow Dalits to convert away from Hinduism and into a more egalitarian Buddhism. On 14 October 1956, just weeks before he died, he led what was at the time one of the world’s largest voluntary mass conversions. This event held in Nagpur featured Ambedkar, his wife Savita, and an estimated 500,000 Dalits converting to Buddhism. For reasons such as these, Ambedkar was voted the ‘greatest Indian’ in post-independence India in a poll that included more than 20 million votes being cast.
Ambedkar was not merely a political figure or leader. He was also a philosopher. One can see the evidence for this in the reconstructed Buddhism that he advanced in his final years, coalescing in his rewritten ‘Buddhist Bible’, The Buddha and His Dhamma, which was completed just before his death on 6 December 1956. In this book, Ambedkar reconstructed the narrative of the Buddha, de-emphasising traditional formulas such as the four noble truths, and foregrounding poverty, injustice and the building up of social communities. In short, he reconstructed the Buddhist tradition and its myriad texts to show how it could function as a social gospel, or an engaged philosophy that could even meet the growing waves of those inspired by Karl Marx and Russian communism in the 1950s…
The politician and thinker whose philosophy of democracy challenged the caste system: “The Indian pragmatist,” from @scottrstroud in @aeonmag.
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As we contemplate community, we might recall that it was on this date in 1492 that all remaining Jews were expelled from Spain. On March 31 of that year, the joint Catholic Monarchs of Spain (Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon, the patrons of Christopher Columbus) had issued an edict– the Alhambra Decree— ordering the expulsion of practicing Jews from the Crowns of Castile and Aragon and its territories and possessions by this date that year.
Boo! (It’s that time again…)
…from the always-amusing xkcd. (The last panel? The Banach-Tarski Paradox: explained here; illustrated here. The “Axiom of Choice”– of which the the B-T Paradox is a case– is explained here.)
As we gird ourselves for the season of horrors, we might recall that it was on this date in 1483 that Tomás de Torquemada was appointed Inquisitor General of Spain (at the behest of Queen Isabella, whose confessor he had been). Called “the hammer of heretics, the light of Spain, the saviour of his country, the honor of his order” by Spanish chronicler Sebastián de Olmedo, Torquemada was a key advocate for the Alhambra Decree (Ferdinand’s and Isabella’s expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492) and a zealous prosecutor of “crypto-Jews” and “crypto-Muslims.” While the precise number of deaths on his watch is a matter of debate, there is a general agreement that, between 1480 and 1530, about 2000 people burned in the autos-de-fé of the Spanish Inquisition.
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