Only this morning when saying goodbye to a couple leaving Buttonwood Bay for the season I was reminded of a quip I heard years ago in a Monty Python movie called the Something or Other in which the Laird of the Manor was seen at his desk, shouting “Who are those people I really hate?” Behind him (and unknown to him) approached Her Ladyship (in whose company was a handsome young priest recently admitted to the household). In the next scene, His Lordship (still seated at his desk) is overheard once again shouting, “How do you spell disembowelled?” When Her Ladyship approached (once again), she asked what he was doing, to which His Lordship replied, “I’m writing a letter to The Times!”
Be honest. We all know people whom we’ve hated on sight. Just something about them that looks despairingly familiar. In fact a bit too much like ourselves. You see, that’s the thing: we see in others what we see in ourselves. It really shouldn’t come as a shock. It does after all only attribute to us the moderate intelligence (or dare I say the insight) we’re predicted to have either within us or by prior everyday empirical observation. Thank-you, David Hume!
Nonetheless in spite of this keen analysis and irrefutable deduction, the compulsion to dismiss people on sight (usually based on minimal acquaintance) persists. And most often at our peril. The extraordinary thing about this responsive behaviour – that is what I shall call the “condition” in my upcoming book on the subject concerning this and related behavioural sciences – is that it frequently spells disaster. The disaster is that very often one is proven grossly wrong in the antecedent perception (another term of art). Importantly too the error made at the outset tends to linger. As a result, the misconception contaminates future relationships and may even succeed to limit conventions from which one might otherwise have profited. All this is to say, not a good thing to hate on sight.
The inalienable sequel (or should I say corollary) to the misconception (because that is the only dignity it deserves) is that, first, one is instantly proven wrong (itself an irredeemable penalty), and, second, that one often discovers the truth about the other party far surpasses anything you ever imagined (which effectively is a boot in the rear end). It’s one thing to be wrong; quite another to be reminded of it so ungraciously.
There is only one conclusion to be drawn from all this. Well, actually two. First, the adage that we see in others what we see in ourselves; and, second, as my late father so skilfully and succinctly often observed, “If you can’t say something nice don’t say anything at all.” His career was that of a commander and a diplomat. He plainly had experience by which to assess the worthiness of his convictions. Among his other memorable quotes, should you care to know, was my favourite; namely, “You can’t have money and things” but that’s a whole other topic and quite frankly a hopeless embarrassment to me, the inveterate profligate that I am, so we’ll let that go for the moment if you don’t mind.
Getting back to this business about hating people, I have learned (predominantly by error of course) that the assessment of others is an enterprise to be undertaken carefully. By which I mean, the activity is not entirely without purpose or purity; but its application should be confined to the most egregious circumstances and normally without any threat of rebound. This means naturally that even within the context of politics the danger exists of offending somebody (though perhaps not the person identified as the culprit). I nonetheless cling to the entitlement to despise others without restraint in certain situations. Sometimes even the threat of recourse can be overlooked – but again, preferably in only the most egregious circumstances.
The reward for all this supervisory morality is the appearance of ambivalence. This I needn’t say is not the image everyone choses to project. Indeed some may adopt quite the opposite view. I guess I have been burned so often by having made the wrong decision at the outset that I now prefer to subdue myself and instead subscribe to a less treacherous mandate.