When I was a child, expressions of hatred were very frowned upon. Even a statement as innocuous as I hate rice pudding (I still do) received short shrift, especially from our nana. 'No hymns of hate,' she would declare, and frown severely. She was deeply religious in her Nonconformist way, and had strict standards with regard to conduct and ethics.
For decades I thought this ruling about hate was one of her own inventions, but I have recently learned of a poem written in 1914, the year of the outbreak of World War One, when Nana was a young woman, and when times were simpler.
The poem was actually called 'Hymn of Hate', and was written by German Ernst Lissauer. The main idea expressed is that Germany has one foe 'and one alone: ENGLAND'. Unsurprisingly, the poem was immensely popular in Germany: school children learned it by heart, and the Kaiser honoured Lissauer. The British, running true to form, treated the whole thing as a joke, and set the poem to music; when the choir of the Royal College of Music sang it, however, laughter interfered with their rendition.
By 1926, Lissauer regretted writing the poem, and regrets deepened when his beloved Germany turned against him, maintaining that hatred was 'unGerman'. And unluckily for him at that period, Lissauer was Jewish.
As I write, the western world is trying to cope with news of yet another episode of gun violence in the United States, the worst anti-Semitic outrage in recent US history. The event in Pittsburgh is particularly horrifying because of the number of dead and injured, and because a congregation was attacked in a synagogue during Shabbat services.
The perpetrator, one Robert Bowers, reportedly yelled 'All Jews must die' as he began to shoot: 11 people died. This heinous act is not being treated as a terrorist attack, but as a hate crime, with the police trying to come to a conclusion about Bowers' motivation.
As is usual these days, Bowers' usage of social media is undergoing close examination by the investigating authorities. He seems to have convinced himself that Jewish people are assisting the so-called caravans of would-be immigrants, especially those from Central America, whom he refers to as 'invaders', and then conceived an irrational desire to protect Americans from this imagined threat.
"Hate itself is not a crime. But in its pathological form, it is a complex business, often involving a troubled childhood background of violence and abuse."
Analysts have commented often and at length on the divisive nature of politics in today's USA, citing President Trump's anti-immigration policies and inflammatory language, while one commentator has gone so far to say that Trump did not 'pull the trigger on Jews in Pittsburgh, but he certainly prepped the shooter'.
Bowers now faces 29 hate crimes charges. Hate crimes and their penalties were first formalised in America in 1968, when President Johnson signed them into law. Discrimination on the grounds of race, colour, religion and national origin became punishable; President Obama later extended these laws, so that discrimination on the grounds of gender, disability and sexual orientation was also forbidden. Many western countries have followed suit: Australia, for example, forbids hate speech.
Hate itself is not a crime, and is felt by all of us at some time or other, and for many reasons. But in its pathological form, it is a complex business, often involving a troubled childhood background of violence and abuse. Its basis appears to be fear: fear of difference, and also fear of helplessness.
Bowers seems to have resented Jewish people being a 'different' group with an imagined agenda that he disapproved of, and he also, it seems fairly safe to say, felt helpless in the face of their perceived power and influence over 'the invaders'. It was easier, at least in the deluded moment, to inflict the most extreme pain on others rather than endure it himself. So the psychological reasoning runs.
How would Nana have reacted? She would certainly have been horrified, and then she might have murmured about forgiveness, but I'm afraid I cannot join her there. At least not at present.
She would certainly have repeated her frequent lament: 'Oh, the sin in this wicked world,' and then I would have agreed with her. But I might also have asked her age-old questions: What do we do about damaged people? Will hate win?
Gillian Bouras is an expatriate Australian writer who has written several books, stories and articles, many of them dealing with her experiences as an Australian woman in Greece.
Main image: Flowers and an Israeli flag sit at a makeshift memorial down the street from the site of the mass shooting that killed 11 people and wounded six at the Tree Of Life Synagogue on 28 October 2018 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (Jeff Swensen/Getty Images)