I've only hated two people in my entire life. My father for steadfastly refusing to accept I was an independent person and not a clone of himself. And a bookshop manager who micro-managed me for two years and put me through a distressing and unnecessary disciplinary procedure.
I think it's mainly because I don't see the point of hating people. What does it achieve? I'm not going to change the person concerned, or whatever personal quirks of theirs I find annoying or peculiar. I would simply create bad feeling and eat myself up with bitterness.
If I find someone rude, or condescending, or bossy, or hypercritical, I don't hate them for it. I just shrug my shoulders and work around whatever it is I dislike, or keep away from them.
Of course my lack of hatred is partly due to a fortunate life in the sort of respectable circles where most people have treated me decently. If my life had been rougher and I had been at the mercy of vicious, predatory thugs who cared nothing for my health or well-being, no doubt I would have hated them pretty quickly.
If I had been a victim of sex traffickers, or sweatshop bosses, or a brutal husband, or a barbaric religion, then it would be hard to avoid sheer, unadulterated hatred for the way I was being treated.
I certainly don't have it in me to hate complete strangers, people I've never met and know nothing about except what I read in the media. Why should I take the slightest interest in them, never mind cultivate such strong emotions on their behalf?
I wouldn't have been much good as a soldier....
