By intensity of hatred, nations create in themselves the
By intensity of hatred, nations create in themselves the character that they imagine in their enemies. Hence it comes that all passionate conflicts result in an interchange of characteristics. We might say with truth, those who hate open a door by which their enemies enter and make their own the secret places of the heart.
"By intensity of hatred, nations create in themselves the character that they imagine in their enemies. Hence it comes that all passionate conflicts result in an interchange of characteristics. We might say with truth, those who hate open a door by which their enemies enter and make their own the secret places of the heart." These powerful words by George William Russell reflect a profound and often painful truth about the nature of hatred and conflict. When we direct our hatred toward others, we do not only harm those we despise but also transform ourselves. The bitterness we harbor becomes a mirror, showing us not just the flaws of our enemies, but also the flaws within our own hearts. Through the intensity of hatred, we become the very thing we abhor, and in doing so, we allow the objects of our hatred to enter and possess our most intimate spaces—our thoughts, our feelings, and ultimately, our very nature.
This truth is as old as humanity itself. The ancient wars and conflicts that shaped civilizations—whether the Trojan War or the Peloponnesian War—show us how deeply hatred can alter the course of history. In Homer’s Iliad, Achilles’ wrath against Hector leads to a cycle of violence, where not only Hector dies but Achilles himself is consumed by a vengeance that robs him of his humanity. Achilles’ hatred for Hector becomes so consuming that he cannot distinguish between his enemy and his own darker impulses. The very qualities he despised in Hector—pride, anger, violence—begin to mirror the qualities that take root in Achilles’ heart. In this way, the tragic flaw of hatred is revealed: it does not defeat the enemy but multiplies its own destructive force, transforming the hater as much as the hated.
Consider, too, the historical example of World War I. The nations of Europe, gripped by the fever of nationalism and hatred for one another, entered into a conflict that seemed to have no clear purpose, only destruction. As propaganda filled the airwaves, each nation painted its enemy as the embodiment of evil, cruelty, and barbarism. Yet, as the war dragged on, something remarkable occurred—what had been intended to divide these nations actually began to blur the lines between them. The soldiers, once filled with hatred for the enemy, began to share in the same suffering, the same human experiences of loss and grief. The brutality of war forced the nations involved to recognize, albeit too late, the shared humanity of all. The intensity of hatred had opened a door through which the enemies had entered and changed not just their fates, but their own minds and hearts.
The wisdom in Russell’s words teaches us that the emotions we harbor do not merely impact others—they transform us. Hatred, like fire, can consume not just its object but also the one who holds it. It causes the hater to mirror the very vices they seek to destroy. The anger, the fear, the intolerance we project onto others takes root within our own being and shapes our character. When we fight with hatred, we feed the same forces of division, violence, and ignorance that we despise in our enemies. It is a bitter paradox, one that history is full of, from the blood-soaked fields of ancient battle to the modern conflicts that continue to tear apart our world.
We must also recognize that the interchange of characteristics that Russell speaks of is not only a political or historical reality but also a deeply personal one. In our everyday lives, when we engage in conflict, whether within our families, communities, or even within ourselves, we often project the very flaws we despise onto others. A person who harbors resentment may find themselves becoming bitter and closed off, mirroring the very traits they originally found in others. As Russell so poignantly points out, when we hate, we open a door that allows our enemies—or our inner demons—to shape who we are. Thus, the internal and external battles we fight are more interconnected than we often realize.
The lesson here is clear: to hate is to invite into our lives the very forces we wish to destroy. We must take care in how we channel our emotions, understanding that hatred, in its purest form, only perpetuates the cycle of violence and division. Instead of letting hatred consume us, we must choose the path of understanding, forgiveness, and compassion. Empathy allows us to see beyond the perceived flaws of others and recognize the shared humanity in all people. This does not mean we must condone the wrongdoing we witness, but we must rise above it, understanding that the true strength lies not in perpetuating hatred but in choosing to break free from its grip.
In our own lives, then, we must ask ourselves: When we encounter conflict, are we opening doors to destruction, or are we choosing to cultivate peace? It is our choice, after all. Let us be vigilant in our responses to the world around us, understanding that every moment of hatred is an opportunity to change not only the world but our own hearts. As Russell teaches, the truth is that those who choose to hate unwittingly create the conditions that allow their enemies to enter their hearts and minds. But we also have the power to choose differently—to create a world not of division, but of understanding, where we embrace the humanity of others, even in the face of conflict. Through this, we can begin to heal not only the world but ourselves.
PTKim Hien Phan Thi
I find Russell’s perspective on conflict and hatred to be deeply thought-provoking. The notion that we internalize the qualities of those we despise speaks to the psychological cost of hatred. But if we see ourselves becoming like the enemy, does that mean we’ve lost our identity? How do we reclaim who we are without succumbing to the negative influences of our conflicts?
HHHuynh Huy Hoang
The idea that hatred opens a door for the enemy to enter is both unsettling and enlightening. It suggests that through intense opposition, we can become the very thing we seek to destroy. But can this also apply to personal conflicts or is it only relevant on a national scale? Do we experience this exchange of characteristics on a smaller, individual level as well?
PPKH
This quote really makes me reflect on how hatred doesn’t just affect the enemy—it changes us as well. When we engage in passionate conflicts, we risk becoming what we hate. But how do we stop this transformation? How can we resist letting our anger and hatred define our actions, especially when it feels like those emotions are justified by the situation?
LNThinh Le Ngoc
George William Russell’s quote is a powerful reminder of how hatred can transform a nation, making it mirror the very characteristics it despises in others. This makes me think: How often do we let our biases and animosities shape our behavior to the point where we become the thing we once opposed? Is there a way to break this cycle, or is this an inevitable outcome of conflict?