By JIM CLAYTON/Staff Writer
Just in case the nickname didn’t give it away, I grew up in the 1980s, binge-watching music videos on MTV (which stands for Music Television, if you didn’t know). I could buy a tank of gas and a 32-ounce Big Gulp with the same crumpled $5 bill. My friends and I spent our weeknights in the mall parking lot and our weekends hanging out at desert bonfires.
I was raised on hose water, bad decisions, and benign parental neglect. We weren’t “nurtured.” Our parents trusted that if we didn’t come home by curfew, we’d at least have the good sense to avoid felony charges. Spoiler: we didn’t.
We were angry. We were feral. But, not without reason.
CONTRADICTIONS
The ’80s were a glorious dumpster fire. Adults lectured us about the values of honesty in leadership while the Iran-Contra Affair was happening on live TV. The PMRC waged war against our music, trying to ban or restrict every artist from Prince to Public Enemy to Cyndi Lauper. Schools tried to ban our books, “Catcher in the Rye,” “Slaughterhouse Five,” “To Kill a Mockingbird,” and ANYTHING written by Stephen King were always on the chopping block. (Naturally, we all ran out to buy copies of those albums and books as quickly as we could).
Our leaders lied and assured us that ducking under a desk could save us from a nuclear blast. Mr. Reagan really nailed that one! Every night at 10, a TV voice reminded parents to “know where your children are,” as if that PSA was the only form of childcare on offer. And yes, we really did have a student smoking section on campus, because nothing says “youth development” like sucking on a couple of coffin nails after choking down a hyper-processed plate of beef byproduct.
Ah, the comfortable arrogance of a generation that thought the Internet would save us all.
Instead, we got a digital Thunderdome where everyone’s armed with Wi-Fi and unresolved trauma. Over the years, I’ve watched the certainties of my youth collapse like the cheerleader pyramid at my last high school reunion. The factories shut down, the middle class has all but vanished, and the American dream was repossessed somewhere between hedge funds and the opioid crisis.
The words we use for each other have hardened, too. Hate stopped being taboo and became… mainstream. Hate is this country’s new favorite energy drink, and we’re shotgunning a fresh-brewed pot of it every morning, hoping our kidneys hold out.
Let’s be clear: hate isn’t a new fringe hobby.
TRACKING HATE
Civil-rights groups track thousands of active hate and antigovernment movements, and have for decades. The Southern Poverty Law Center’s latest Year in Hate report (yeah… that’s a real thing) reads like a road atlas of rage. The Anti-Defamation League keeps logging record-high antisemitic incidents. Behind each number is a real person, threatened, harassed, or dead, all while we argue online about whose tribe is worse.
Hatred doesn’t just appear out of thin air. It grows in the cracks of our society, the economic ones, the social ones, the ones left behind when institutions rot. When people lose everything, blame becomes the cheapest form of therapy.
Economists have been saying for decades that inequality and instability make great compost for resentment. And they’re right: when your rent’s due, you haven’t had a raise in five years, and your boss just posted his Speedo pictures from Fulidhoo in the Maldives, “us versus them” starts to sound like a really good plan.
Social media monetizes our outrage. Algorithms don’t care whether you’re angry. Every click, every share, every “can you believe this idiot?” keeps the machine humming. We have influencers who make a living by weaponizing grievances. Welcome to the outrage economy: where everyone’s a brand and empathy is bad for engagement.
DEHUMANIZATION
There’s also a psychological piece that’s harder to admit. Social scientists call it dehumanization, the mental trick that turns people into symbols, threats and memes. Once someone’s not fully human in your mind, cruelty feels justified. That’s why the words our leaders use matter.
A casual insult on a debate stage can turn into a war cry in a chat room. Words build realities, and lately those realities have teeth. This is why one viral clip, or one act of violence, can send everything spinning.
An argument becomes a conspiracy. A tragedy becomes a recruiting tool.
So why do we do this to ourselves? Because the old glue that held communities together, churches, unions, local papers, and neighborhood barbecues, has failed. Institutions that once mediated conflict have either collapsed or chosen sides. We stopped discussing ideas and started defending our identities. And once identity becomes sacred, compromise becomes betrayal.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: hatred isn’t symmetrical. The grievances and justifications differ, but the thing that drives the machine; fear, anxiety, a false sense of moral superiority; operates the same way across the spectrum. That’s why any fix has to come from a nonpartisan place. We don’t need another politician preaching a sermon about “unity.” We need to get under the hood and fix what’s broken in the engine itself.
TREAT THE DISEASE
Okay. Fine. How do we do that?
Get real about trade-offs. Kicking extremists off platforms is great, but if you go too far, you turn them into martyrs for the cause. Adjusting algorithms can slow the spread of toxic content, but that doesn’t rebuild a town hollowed out by the economic collapse that LED to the extremists in the first place. Rebuild civic life. Support local journalism, libraries, and community centers; the boring, unsexy infrastructure of democracy. When people know each other, they’re less likely to believe the other is a monster.
Hold tech accountable. Don’t ban speech, but hold companies accountable for the chaos they profit from. You can’t just send a 5-year-old into an old barn full of hay with a full gas can and a box of matches, then throw your hands up and claim all you did was provide the platform. You’ve got to shoulder some responsibility, and if you won’t, we should hold you accountable for your part in this problem.
Reduce economic dread. Hate feeds on hopelessness.
Our leaders must give people a chance at stability. They want jobs. They need retraining because COVID did them no favors. They deserve housing they can afford to pay for. Give them those things, and they’ll have less time or need to find enemies. Demand better leadership. Words from the top flow downward. Leaders who inflame resentment to win elections are basically arsonists selling fire insurance. Vote them out, regardless of what side of the aisle they are on.
Beyond policy, there’s a moral job here: relearning humility.
Democracy is not a winner-takes-all game; it’s a never-ending argument we agree to keep having. I remember when gas was forty-five cents, and a “viral” thing meant the flu. Maybe that’s why I still believe neighbors matter more than hashtags. We can disagree without dehumanizing each other and argue without annihilating one another. That takes practice and a willingness to admit we might be wrong.
We need to reach a point where we enter a voting booth not to vote against someone’s platforms, but to vote for what is right.
This doesn’t mean ignoring real danger. There are organized groups out there whose whole business model is hate. They should be monitored, prosecuted, and dismantled. The data from the SPLC and ADL make that painfully obvious.
But if we only focus on the symptoms, we’ll never treat the disease. Hatred shrivels when people have purpose, connection, and a fair shot at dignity. That’s not utopian. That’s historical.
FORGIVE LIKE NEIGHBORS
Next year, we celebrate 250 years as a country. During that time, we were at war or in a military conflict for roughly 220 years. Even in our years of peace, we observed the rise of civil rights movements and social causes that led to violence in our streets. We are very war-like people. It is in our nature, to a degree.
If we do not have an enemy, we tend to create one. If we cannot create one, we turn on our leaders. If that doesn’t satisfy our urges, we will turn on one another.
But every time this country has crawled out of a dark chapter, and it is safe to say we are in one right now, it wasn’t because we silenced the loudest bigots and idiots; it’s because we built better reasons not to listen to them.
So, if we’re mentoring the next generation, let’s teach them something more useful than “owning the libs” or “crushing the fascists.” Let’s teach them how to argue like citizens and forgive like neighbors. Because democracy, at its best, isn’t about shouting the loudest. It’s about leaving just enough silence for the other person to answer.
That’s all I’ve got for today. So, as always, remember the rules.
Be good to each other.
Take care of yourself.
And don’t be a jerk.
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