“I can always choose, but I must know that if I do not choose, that is still a choice.” – Jean-Paul Sartre
My last blog article discussed a seemingly controversial topic – the humanistic philosophy of Jesus of Nazareth. You know – love they neighbor, be kind to one another, all the stuff the religious right knows nothing about. Sorry, I digress.
I discuss all of this because the world is literally and figuratively on fire. LA continues to burn, government chaos in the US has led to avoidable death and anxiety, and demagogues world over lay claims to territory that will likely lead to war.
I discuss all this because I am struggling to not hate certain world leaders. I really am, and it pains me to struggle with hatred when my urge is to love.
The world is deeply fractured, and elections like Donald Trump’s are emblematic of this factorization. For many, his rhetoric and policies have ignited feelings of anger, fear, and disillusionment. It’s tempting to meet what is perceived as hatred with hatred, to allow anger to fuel our interactions with those who supported him. Yet, this approach leads nowhere good, which is why I am fighting the urge to hate. As Marcus Aurelius once said, “The best revenge is not to be like your enemy.” Instead of succumbing to hatred, we must rise to a higher ideal: Loving those who have wronged us or whose values stand in opposition to ours.
This idea of rising above hate is not merely idealistic; it is rooted in both Stoic philosophy and the humanistic teachings of Jesus. These frameworks call us to see every human as worthy of dignity and compassion, even when their actions or beliefs challenge our own sense of justice. To understand this, I continue to explore how to engage with my so-called enemies without losing my integrity or humanity.
The Stoic Imperative: Responding, Not Reacting
Stoicism, a philosophy rooted in rationality and self-control, offers powerful tools for navigating emotionally charged situations. Stoics teach us that external events, including the actions of others, are beyond our control. What we can control, however, is how we respond. Epictetus said, “It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”
In addition, I remind myself of the great Viktor Frankl, a holocaust survivor. He said “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. Among anyone in the world, Frankl wouldn’t be faulted if he was bitter and calloused. But he never became so, despite all he went through. How can I falter with him as a model?
When we encounter someone who supports a political figure or ideology we find harmful, our instinct may be to react with anger or hostility. However, by pausing and reflecting on the situation, we can choose a response that aligns with our values. A true philosopher asks, “What good will my anger do here? How can I act in a way that improves this interaction?” The goal is not to suppress our emotions but to channel them into constructive actions.
The story may seem overused, but I always consider the story of Darryl Davis, a Black musician who befriended members of the Ku Klux Klan. Davis’s approach was the epitome of Stoic control. Instead of reacting with justified anger, he chose to understand and engage. Through open dialogue and an unyielding commitment to his own humanity, Davis inspired over 200 Klan members to leave the organization. His calm presence and willingness to see the humanity in his ideological enemies made a tangible difference, demonstrating the Stoic principle of responding with reason and courage rather than reacting with rage.
This is an extreme example, and Mr. Davis’ strength and courage seem superhuman, as his life was most certainly threatened along the way. Many of us won’t likely face something so deadly, but we can lean into courage as a bedrock of our character.
Despite what is happening, character still matters. In fact, many times, it’s the only thing that does.
The Teachings of Jesus: Love as the Highest Ideal
Jesus’s call to “love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44) is often dismissed as overly idealistic. However, when viewed through a humanistic lens, it becomes a profound strategy for transcending division. Loving one’s enemy doesn’t mean agreeing with them or excusing their actions. Instead, it means recognizing their humanity and refusing to let hatred corrupt your own soul.
From a humanistic standpoint, love involves seeing others as flawed yet capable of growth. It’s about maintaining hope for connection and understanding, even when faced with hostility. Nelson Mandela, who, after spending 27 years in prison under apartheid, emerged without hatred for his oppressors. Mandela famously invited his jailers to his presidential inauguration, symbolizing his commitment to reconciliation over vengeance. This act of love was not a weakness; it was a profound strength that helped heal a divided nation.
I’ve said before that these ideals seem surreal and unattainable for most. There’s a reason that the names of Nelson Mandela, Ghandi, Mother Theresea, etc. continue to be used. But I believe if you look at the world near you, you will find someone with their same courage and profound resolve doing the same work at a local level.
Whether we’re inspired by a big name or a local neighbor, we can apply this principle in our own lives when faced with political opponents or supporters of ideologies we despise.
Imagine sitting across the table from a colleague or neighbor who vehemently supports Trump, knowing that their beliefs feel like a direct affront to your values, and even your humanity. Instead of engaging in a shouting match, consider asking them, “What led you to your beliefs?” This question, rooted in curiosity rather than judgment, opens the door to dialogue. You may not change their mind, but you’ve taken a step toward understanding rather than furthering the divide.
Sometimes, this action is a powerful way of addressing one’s own mental wellbeing. Forgiveness and understanding can benefit others, but they are always for ourselves, no one else.
Real-World Applications: From Hate to Connection
Moving from hatred to love is not easy, which is why I write this piece. It requires discipline, humility, and a commitment to something larger than ourselves. The process begins with the willingness to listen. Listening is not agreement; it’s a recognition of shared humanity. It’s about creating space for someone else’s perspective, even when it conflicts with our own.
For example, Megan Phelps-Roper, a former member of the Westboro Baptist Church, grew up in one of the most notoriously hateful organizations in America. Yet, her transformation came through unexpected compassion from strangers on Twitter (before it went to hell). People who could have lashed out at her hateful rhetoric instead chose to engage her with patience and kindness. Over time, these interactions planted seeds of doubt in her mind, ultimately leading her to leave the church. This story highlights how love, even in the face of hate, can lead to profound change.
Another example I look to is the practice of restorative justice. Restorative justice is a process that seeks to examine the harmful impact of an action and then determines what can be done to repair that harm while holding the person who caused it accountable for his or her actions. Accountability for the offender means accepting responsibility and acting to repair the harm done. When a harm occurs—whether a racial slur or an act of vandalism—restorative practices focus on dialogue and understanding rather than punishment. By bringing together the harmed and the harmer, these programs create opportunities for empathy, accountability, and healing. Such practices embody both Stoic rationality and the love-centered teachings of Jesus, showing that even those who wrong us can grow when approached with compassion.
The Courage to Love
In a polarized world, loving those who seem unlovable is an act of profound courage. It requires us to reject the easy path of hatred and instead take the harder, nobler path of compassion. Stoicism teaches us to focus on what we can control—our actions, our thoughts, and our ability to respond with reason. The humanistic teachings of Jesus remind us that love, not hatred, is the highest ideal.
Love is not passive; it is transformative. We need to be what we want to see in this world. If I do not want hate, I cannot be hateful. If I want love, I need to be loving. Not only when it’s easy, but especially when it’s hard. It is the bridge that allows us to move past division and toward understanding. In the face of hatred, we have a choice: to mirror the hostility we see or to rise above it, embodying the virtues of love, reason, and hope.
One last story. One I think is incredibly relevant to today. During the later years of his reign, Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius faced a revolt led by Avidius Cassius, a trusted general who declared himself emperor after falsely believing Marcus had died. Instead of responding with anger or vengeance, Marcus chose a path of wisdom and clemency. He urged his troops to avoid unnecessary bloodshed and expressed a desire to forgive Cassius, seeing the rebellion as a mistake rather than a betrayal. Before Marcus could reach him, Cassius was assassinated by his own officers. Marcus, true to his Stoic principles, refused to punish Cassius’ supporters, demonstrating his belief that hatred and revenge only harm the soul, while forgiveness and justice strengthen it.
As Aurelius wrote, “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” Let that strength guide us to love, even when it feels impossible.
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