The Politics of Hate

The interdisciplinary study of hatred, as a distinctive social phenomenon, is relatively new to the academy. In the past, one could expect the political ramifications of hate to be subsumed, and often dissipated, within the separate disciplinary machinery exerted upon the subjects of study. This special volume brings politics front and center. It does so by collecting essays that assess the psychology, motivations, organization, tactics, and ends of hate. The weight of the essays suggests that hatred possesses a deeply instrumental genesis, structure, and operation. Collectively, the articles insist that, whatever its origins or precise psychological mechanism, hate is driven by processes toward outward-directed ends. It is mobilized through politics and institutions, and its potency can either be contained or nurtured by the rule of law.


Introduction: The Politics of Hate
Robert L. Tsai American University Washington College of Law The interdisciplinary study of hatred, as a distinctive social phenomenon, is relatively new to the academy. In the past, one could expect the political ramifications of hate to be subsumed, and often dissipated, within the separate disciplinary machinery exerted upon the subjects of study. This special volume brings politics front and center. It does so by collecting essays that assess the psychology, motivations, organization, tactics, and ends of hate. The weight of the essays suggests that hatred possesses a deeply instrumental genesis, structure, and operation. Collectively, the articles insist that, whatever its origins or precise psychological mechanism, hate is driven by processes toward outward-directed ends. It is mobilized through politics and institutions, and its potency can either be contained or nurtured by the rule of law.
A working understanding of the dynamics of hate is helpful as a starting point, though agreement may not be necessary as to its precise origins. Taking an anthropological and psychological approach, Willa Michener roots hate in primitive behavior learned through early acts of group revenge. As time went on and the world became more complex, hate too acquired more intricate trappings without shedding its underlying function of identifying enemies as a self-defense strategy. Thus understood, hate emerges as a necessary byproduct of social organization, giving rise to an inherited set of emotions, mindsets, and responses arising in tandem with the formation and maintenance of social groups. If Michener is correct, human beings may have "a special propensity for learning hatreds from others," and at some basic level hate itself may be ineradicable. One of Michener's conclusions is that within a Western legal system predicated on "a marketplace of ideas," the heritability thesis suggests that "prejudice may have its thumb on the scales in that market, and prejudice may be backed by adaptations for enmity." If Michener sees hate as a form of rational self-interest, Robert Lanning treats hate as an intellectual system prizing irrationality. Embracing the work of 20th century anti-fascist thinkers, Lanning argues that hate propaganda works because it rests on the foundation of irrationalism as its philosophical orientation. Yet irrationalism is more than the absence of reason. More precisely, irrationalism comprises a network of beliefs and moods rejecting a "scientific attitude," adopting an unreflective experience and perception of social reality, and affirming tribal mechanisms such as race, family, and nation to guard against the consequences of Enlighten-9 10 JOURNAL OF HATE STUDIES [Vol. 10:9 ment ideals. For Lanning, this ideological structure underlies the positions taken in contemporary debates to promote "genetic, separatist, and nationalist goals." Thus stated, the politics of hatred can theoretically be harnessed by either the Left or the Right. Lanning's work highlights the importance of studying the historical development of ideas. Like Michener, Lanning suggests that there may be more continuity than difference in how the politics of hate may be structured. Whether the politics of hate is born out of a deep desire for revenge or a reaction against democratic reason, few would disagree that it has a distinctive structure. What, then, can we learn about the contours of hatred as a form of political discourse? The next series of articles reminds us that the state is an important participant in the marketplace of ideas-at times, it is even the leading producer of hateful ideas. Marla Stone treats hatred as a set of cultural constructs and images to be packaged and disseminated by state officials, and consumed by average citizens. Employing the propaganda of Italian Fascism in the 1940s as a historical case study, she analyzes how pamphlets, radio, and movies dehumanized the communist enemy as godless, brutal, and racially degenerate, and therefore worthy of extermination. The fascist politics of hate presented justifications for official policies at the same time they stoked private anxieties. These efforts to shape public sentiment not only mobilized Italians for war, but also created independent reasons to fight on even when Italy's allies faced defeat. Stone's piece suggests that, under the right circumstances, already deeplyseated values, fears, and cultural constructs can be harnessed for state-sponsored aggression directed at a dehumanized enemy. Stone's work raises interesting questions: In what senses might war be a special case for the politics of hate? Beyond the circumstances of armed conflict, just what kind of conditions are necessary to create an environment in which propaganda can flourish?
Stone's work points the way toward invigorated study of the interactions between political discourses and their cultural sources, as well as a greater emphasis on recurring tropes and tactics. Probing antisemitism, Damon Berry examines the persistent myth of blood libel: Jews who allegedly killed Christians to consume their blood or use it in dark rituals. Berry locates this legend, which arose in Europe, within the never-ending political interactions between political majorities and minorities. He analyzes how this myth has been used for nationalistic purposes, and for working through anxieties about insurgent minorities. Once unleashed in a society, this folk tale can simply be updated with new subjects of fascination and derision. Berry contends that the Islamist has replaced the Jew in narratives of national survival in Britain and the United States.
New tactics and social organizations comprise the subject of James

INTRODUCTION 11
Garland's and James Treadwell's research. The authors chart the rise of the English Defence League, an ostensibly "human rights" organization with its genesis in the soccer subculture. Despite having a progressive agenda, it has nevertheless emerged as a vehicle through which disgruntled workingclass white men have expressed their general political discontent, but primarily by blaming radical Islam. Since 2009, the EDL has joined other farright groups in using technology to schedule "flash mobs" and protests against "Islamic extremism" and Sharia law. EDL activists, who sport a Crusader's shield as part of their insignia, have been involved in clashes with other demonstrators, the police, and pro-Islam groups. This dissonance could simply be seen as a gap between the EDL's leadership and its rank-and-file, but Garland and Treadwell argue that the group's pro-equality official positions should be seen as tactical only, a way of posturing as a mainstream organization when in fact it is dedicated to defending the "Christian culture" and "way of life." The authors suggest that EDL members oppose New Labor immigration policies, but choose to scapegoat its beneficiaries. The more such an alternative organization appears to express authentic but latent attitudes and policies, the greater its potential for acquiring democratic influence. A question then arises about institutional transformation: Will the EDL remain an organization at the margins, content with expressing traditional values or contemporary fears, or will it try to become a mainstream movement and organization with enhanced political clout? Such questions of identity and goals echo in other democracies, but especially in the United States, where the Tea Party movement jousts with established organizations as it struggles with the competing desires for authenticity and influence.
Because social groups involved in practicing the politics of hate arise partly in response to legal and policy developments, then the role of law must also be investigated. The law can discredit the politics of hate and raise the costs on its practitioners, or the law can nurture efforts to demonize vulnerable communities. Turning to the American experience, Daniel Kato offers a withering criticism of the U.S. Supreme Court's role in allowing the lynching of blacks to persist. Kato provocatively argues that the Court tried to manage competing concerns by "constitutionalizing anarchy," tolerating lawless behavior while reserving ultimate juridical authority over the matter. Within such a legally demarcated zone, racial hatred and extra-legal justice continued unabated. The case over the justices' motivations is complicated, of course, by their differing jurisprudential commitments concerning federalism, individual rights, and the proper scope of the Fourteenth Amendment. But Kato argues that, seen within a broader, more reactionary politics, the Court's legal rulings simultaneously reflected 12 JOURNAL OF HATE STUDIES [Vol. 10:9 and fostered the federal government's "fluctuating disengagement" with the problem of racial violence. For the most part, the issue of race was cast as a matter of local concern, leaving civil rights laws and constitutional protections dormant until the political climate became more congenial to federal civil rights enforcement. In Kato's telling, the Supreme Court's troubled jurisprudence is best explained by political conditions external to the justices, rather than by a purely philosophical disagreement. As hate has increasingly been perceived as a major threat to the modern pluralistic nation-state, the people have increasingly turned to the law as an instrument for fostering new norms. Hate crimes statutes are a prominent manifestation of this recognition. But as Jennifer Schweppe observes, legislative debates over anti-hate crimes laws generate their own types of challenges. The definition of victim classes itself is politically fraught, subject to the idiosyncrasies of lobbying and drafting, and the process of codifying hierarchies of victims can induce resentment among those not included. To reduce such problems, Schweppe recommends that elected officials craft more generalized anti-bias laws that would define a hate crime as one in which the assailant was motivated by hostility towards a victim "because of [his or her] personal characteristics (or presumed characteristics), characteristics of which he or she shares with an identifiable social group." Examples of such acts of hate (e.g., based on race or sex) would then serve as presumptive characteristics for the jury to consider, but not binding on decision makers.
Antagonistic exchanges in the arena of formal politics may be reduced through Schweppe's proposal, or they might simply be displaced into other bodies. Prosecutors and juries would have enhanced powers to determine the actual scope of anti-bias statutes, and could very well do so in less transparent and accountable fashion. Whatever the case, Schweppe's article suggests that in configuring legal strategies to deal with the politics of hate, the solution involves tradeoffs. Which approach will create legal sanctions for hateful acts while minimizing destructive cycles of resentment? And which institutions are most competent to assess the claims of democratic justice entailed in anti-bias laws? Turning the problem of hate over to the judicial domain ensures an ongoing deliberation and refinement of solutions. Surely there are efficiency gains to be had. But courts are not divorced from the political environment, and legal outcomes might still stoke outrage outside of the courtroom.
If Kato and Schweppe are correct that the law is a double-edged instrument in confronting the politics of hate, then other methods must be considered as supplemental antidotes. Rachel Dean-Ruzicka's work explores young adult literature as a means of pushing beyond liberalism's ideal of tolerance so as to more effectively attack hate. According to the author, the INTRODUCTION 13 foundational tenet of toleration teaches citizens a form of cultural relativism in which hateful worldviews are allowed to gain a footing as equivalent sets of ideals to live by. Through realistic depictions of young people faced with moral dilemmas, books can dramatize how socially divisive and violent ideologies have to be challenged rather than ignored, even at great personal cost. Community action and individual transformation can lead either to human misery or to the protection of human dignity, and literature can powerfully illustrate the benefits of democratic engagement. The pursuit of illiberal agendas, too, which can appear tantalizing to adolescents, nevertheless exacts a toll on family relationships, friendships, job prospects, and reputation. Assuming the effectiveness of literature in combating hate, the task then becomes determining when and how to expose students to these civic themes. It would be foolish to summarize all of the potential lines of inquiry begun by this collection of essays. Yet a few preliminary observations are warranted. It would be a mistake to put all of one's resources into reshaping the formal law. The rule of law, which does not trickle down to most of the human interactions in society, relies on other media and social organizations to reinforce norms of equality and participation. At best, the law in most democratic societies structures debates at the highest level of generality, leaving significant latitude for practitioners of hateful politics and their opponents to vie for dominance. And it is the exchanges in such spaces (both in public and underground) that ultimately determine the vitality of illiberal programs.