The Comfort of Contempt

Who deserves contempt?

Have you ever pondered that question? To be clear, I’m not asking Can you validate your case against a specific individual or group? I’m guessing we all could submit at least one example that feels obvious, maybe even irrefutable (Hitler!—amiright?). I am asking philosophically: What is the argument in favor of contempt? How does it help? What does your contempt do to another person? 

More to the point, what does it do to you?

I imagine most of us would agree we are immersed in a rising sea of contempt. In itself it is hardly a new problem—contempt is as old as the human heart. But social media has given us a global public square in which myriad people daily gather at various platforms to share their opinions, their judgments, and above all, their indignation. And the effects on us all are clearly not benign. 

Because when scorn and insults fly on an hourly basis, carried via cyberspace through the very air we breathe, even those who never go online can be impacted. These seeds of rancor are spreading through populations, finding fertile ground in hurting, anxious hearts, and changing our world. Minds are closing. Doors are closing. Walls are rising, cold and apparently impervious to the softening effects of empathy and goodwill.  

All of it has me wondering: Can human beings draw battle lines with such deep, virtue-laden conviction and not end up at actual war? Is there any path to justice through kindness? What is the role for concerned emissaries of peace who wish to open the roads to reconciliation? 

In his book The Happiness Hypothesis, moral psychologist Jonathan Haidt offers some useful insights about contempt, explaining that it’s “a moral emotion that gives feelings of moral superiority while asking nothing in return....Best of all, contempt is made to share.” He points out that it provides social bonding through the satisfying “entertainment” of gossip and scandal, offering “a ready way for people to show that they share a common moral orientation.” All of which is to say that contempt arises naturally from our personal sense of morality and we experience it as both rewarding and cost-free, making it possibly reflexive, definitely seductive. 

Indeed, while it may not be difficult to concede intellectually that contempt can be a problem, it actually feels, not just satisfying, but right. As in, righteous. In the cultural and political arenas of our world today, contempt very often appears propelled by genuine moral concerns—by sincere care and compassion for the injury and suffering endured by a victim or group at the hands of others. When we perceive our arguments as demonstrably true and morally compelling, our contempt feels far more like an utterly justifiable rebellion against The Wrong...actually, an imperative rebellion...than a force for hurt or hatred in the world.

But is it?

Shantideva, an 8th-century Buddhist monk, observed that our personal suffering reflects a toxic pattern in how we relate to others: envy toward those we perceive as above us, competitiveness toward those we see as equal, and contempt toward those we regard as lower. It’s obvious that all three of these dynamics are manifestations of our ego, but what I notice is that envy and competition have something that contempt does not: a benign degree. 

Envy and competition, while rooted in ego, arise from attachment to outcomes. This means we can admire something another has or does and wish it for ourselves, but not become so hooked by that desire that we are miserable over it. Likewise, it’s possible to engage in a friendly contest simply for the fun of it without getting caught up in desperation to win, in upset over a loss. It’s only when we become attached to the thought of having or winning that we feel distress from not having or from losing. So it’s really the degree to which our ego attaches to the outcome that determines whether, or how much, our feelings of envy or competition create suffering for us. 

There is, however, no such thing as benign contempt. 

That’s because contempt does not arise out of attachment to an outcome but rather to something more powerful and basic: the ego itself. Contempt, as Haidt pointed out, provides us the gratifying feeling of being better than another. So when we indulge in it we are directly feeding our ego by cultivating its sense of superiority; we are attaching to our ego-experience of moral supremacy.

It’s also worth noting that because envy and competition position the self below or equal to others, it’s quite common to experience them as uncomfortable, disquieting. This can alert us to their presence and provide incentive to reject them. Contempt, on the other hand, positions the self higher than others and so it soothes rather than threatens the ego. This comfort gives us far less impetus to constrain it in ourselves, or even to notice it. And the fact that contempt offers the additional allure of social bonding, which serves to reinforce the righteousness of our convictions (and thus confirm our ego’s superior morality), means our experience of contempt can feel, not only gratifying, but quite reasonable and useful. 

Yet, social science research reveals a very different story.

One of our leading resources for understanding the repercussions of contempt comes from the work of Drs. John and Julie Gottman, married partners who, as clinical psychologists, have spent decades studying the dynamics of marriage. In their years of closely observing many hundreds of couples and their communication patterns, the Gottmans have clearly identified contempt on the part of either or both partners as not only the single most destructive behavior in relationships, but the most reliable predictor of divorce. Their findings unmistakably demonstrate that the practice of contempt drives people apart: it builds a wall of hurt and hostility in place of the trust that is requisite for maintaining a connection.

It might be tempting to say, Well, a country isn’t a marriage, so who cares? My thought is: all of us should. Because in an entrenched party system like ours, the dynamics between the Left and Right are very similar to the challenge of a marriage partnership. To maintain a well-functioning free society we need citizens and leaders who can work cooperatively towards shared goals like social order, justice, and prosperity, despite at times profoundly disagreeing on the means, priorities, or expectations for achieving them. Just as in a marriage, this requires a deep commitment to listening seriously, to discussing respectfully, to compromising willingly. And just like in a marriage, contempt undercuts—actually, it decimates—all of those. 

The Gottmans’ work specifies numerous signals of contempt: sarcasm, mockery, mimicking, sneering, name-calling, eye-rolling. In our age of online communication we are surrounded by a global conversation in which these elements of hostility abound, and in which our screens obscure our humanity (and our hurt) from each other.

Indeed, how many of us have ever made a remark online that we would not have actually said to someone’s face? How many of us have ever felt belittled or scorned by something a friend or acquaintance posted and wondered if they would have said that to us directly, “irl”? The fact that we now have an acronym to distinguish what happens “in real life” from what happens in our screen-mediated lives demonstrates the disconnection that can exist between our cyber- and real-world interactions. And that disconnection is nowhere more evident than in the language singular to social media: memes and emojis.

Memes can be used harmlessly to spread inspirational ideas or funny thoughts, yet one of their most popular uses is political humor—pithy takedowns, slam-dunk insults, mocking critiques. All it takes is a flash of righteous clarity—“Yes!! LOL!!”—and a click on the “share” button and, voilá—contempt gets forwarded to a new audience in the guise of clever humor. Never mind that it might be at the expense of others who see and feel its sting; it’s the laugh for the like-minded that matters. And anyway, the truth hurts, right?

For social media users who don’t feel so bold as to dish out the bite of a meme, the ubiquitous emoji can be utilized as a less obvious smackdown. Nothing feels easier to share online than a reaction—a thumbs up Like, a heart Love, and let us not forget the laughing face that can be deployed to jeer at people and their opinions. Of course, it wasn’t very long ago we had to actually type out “<eyeroll>” when we wanted to disdain an idea, or a person. Now, with just a couple clicks of the mouse we can leave an emoji and move on, our statement of derision recorded. I am chagrined to admit that more than once I’ve wished on Facebook for the eye-roll emoji to be added to their instant reaction menu; I’ve wanted its convenience.

But I am taking that back. The very last thing I need is faster access for my contempt reflex; I’d argue it’s the last thing any of us needs. Which steers us back toward the original question. Who deserves contempt? 

My answer is unequivocal: No one.   

But what about Hitler?!  I can hear the chorus now. 

We all know Hitler is not the only monstrous dictator in human history. If he deserves contempt Stalin does, too. And Mao. What about The Khmer Rouge? Saddam Hussein and his sadistic sons? Of course, those are just a few of the notably bloody oppressors from the recent past. What about Kim Jong Un today? ISIS? How about the leaders of communist China? They silence dissidents and persecute their ethnic and religious minorities using imprisonment, torture, and murder. If Hitler deserves contempt, don’t they? And doesn’t anyone who fails to stand against their oppression and cruelty?—especially those who benefit from overlooking it. So maybe should we aim our contempt at the leaders and players of the NBA. And the fans, too. How about at ourselves for every Made in China product we own? 

Obviously, the problem with insisting that “some” deserve contempt is deciding where that line gets drawn and who gets to draw it. For example, much of the outrage over Ellen deGeneres’ friendship with George W. Bush came from people who insist he is a bigot and an unpunished war criminal. To many others, that’s not just a preposterous claim, it’s a vicious smear. Who’s right? And can we discuss that question without becoming hooked by attachment to ego and its distaste for the flawed morality of others? 

The real danger in believing contempt is deserved is that it blinds us, and hardens us.

In her most recent book Braving the Wilderness, Dr. Brené Brown devotes an entire chapter (aptly titled: People Are Hard To Hate Close Up. Move In) to our very human inclination to dehumanize others. She tells us:

Dehumanizing often starts with creating an enemy image. As we take sides, lose trust, and get angrier and angrier, we not only solidify an idea of our enemy, but also start to lose our ability to listen, communicate, and practice even a modicum of empathy. 

She goes on to say that this invariably starts with language, which often is followed by images, and she gives examples from history: indigenous people labeled savages, slaves categorized as “subhuman,” the Nazis depicting Jews as rats, Serbs referring to Bosnians as aliens, the Hutus characterizing the Tutsis, their fellow Rwandans, as cockroaches. 

The key to understanding how dehumanization succeeds is in seeing how it is a subtle psychological process that corrodes our ability to see the value in others, erodes our inclination to hold them as worthy of our empathy, sympathy, or even decent treatment. It clears a wide path of permission not only for indifference, but for indulging our moral superiority—the comfort of contempt.

And it’s equally important to notice how reflexively we dismiss the idea that we personally could ever grow the kind of moral callous that has allowed for the horrors of human history. 

Yet, history isn’t the only thing we share with those responsible for the horrors. 

“[W]e're fighting biology here,” Dr. Brown points out. “We’re hardwired to believe what we see and to attach meaning to the words we hear. We can’t pretend that every citizen who participated in or was a bystander to human atrocities was a violent psychopath. That’s not possible, it’s not true, and it misses the point. The point is that we are all vulnerable to the slow and insidious practice of dehumanizing, therefore we are all responsible for recognizing it and stopping it.” 

This is the truth that was painfully discovered by Alexander Solzhenitsyn, a respected, decorated, Red Army officer whose privately shared criticism of Josef Stalin landed him, for more than a decade, in the brutality of Soviet labor camps. In a passage from his epic work The Gulag Archipelago, he offers us the profound insight that emerged from the ugliness of his life, from his experience as perpetrator and victim of terrible suffering: 

In my most evil moments I was convinced that I was doing good, and I was well supplied with systematic arguments. And it was only when I lay there on rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good. Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either—but right through every human heart—and through all human hearts....It is impossible to expel evil from the world in its entirety, but it is possible to constrict it within each person. 

This is a crucial truth for us in today’s world, given our escalating climate of contempt and the deceptive comfort to be found in decrying the wrongs of others, in pointing fingers and assigning blame. Each of us naturally prefers a world that reflects our own moral framework, and caring souls naturally want to see good conquer evil. We all feel justified in our judgments concerning right and wrong and the culpability of others. Yet it is imperative to examine our own contribution to the conversations happening around us, to each constrict within ourselves our inclination towards contempt. There is a growing and urgent need for each of us to learn the studied art of standing rightly against wrong-doing without righteously demonizing the wrong-doer. 

How do we do that, though, when the evil we’ve identified feels so compellingly outside of ourselves, and the goodness we are defending feels definitively ours to champion? 

There is a Buddhist teaching that instructs “Be grateful to everyone.” It urges us to intentionally nurture a sense of gratitude not just to those who provide us what we want, but to those who provide us the things we don’t: those everyday discomfiting opportunities to confront our ego. Cultivating gratefulness to those who challenge our self-attachment may sound like an improbable path away from contempt, yet when we commit to seeing our enemies as indispensable to our awakening we come to see them as they truly are: just fellow journeyers on the road. And as we foster a spirit of thankfulness for their role in revealing our ego work, we are naturally drawn from antipathy and scorn into the deeper comfort of a conscious heart. We are softened in ways that strengthen us. In ways that can extend our reach towards peace.

It comes down to a willing awareness, and a moment of decision. 

When the impulse arises to say or do something that offers us the comfort of contempt do we choose that seductive gratification, or do we stop to notice the actual human(s) we’re taking aim at?

Do we look at the situation and excuse ourselves because “they deserve it”? Or do we notice our own flawed reflection in the mirror of humanity and consider what we can do for a better world?

Do we grasp what the moment offers—the opportunity to awaken right into our private battle between love and hate—and choose kindness...or even just quiet...over contempt?

Do we refuse to contribute rancor in our quest for a more just and gentle world?

In my own efforts to dismount from my moral high horse I have learned to keep focused on a simple truth: I know many good people—thoughtful, well-meaning, intelligent—who have constructed moral frameworks, whole hierarchies of values, that do not mirror my own, that in significant ways contradict it. This keeps me aware that I’ve come to my values and perspectives by a path unique to me. My understanding of what matters and why represents an intricate weaving of knowledge and experiences particular to my own life—it is a tapestry that, however attractive, rational, or obvious it appears to me, reflects only my own journey to date. It is not Reality. It is not a treasure map to peace and justice. Not a picture bible for the world to follow. And most important of all, it is not a finished product. My understanding is—and should be—ever subject to change. It can widen...or narrow. I need to hold it lightly, humbly. 

So, final answer: refusing to regard even Hitler with contempt does not signify any degree of acceptance for the horrific evil he directed, only recognition that indulging contempt takes a page from his playbook. Because contempt is the natural playground of ego-attachment; it is an alluring distraction from our ego work—the work that could actually effect a better world.

The final truth is that I cannot stop others from adding enmity to our existence. But if I’m serious about wanting less of it I must keep focused on my own inclination to rest in the comfort of contempt. I need to spend more time noticing my own reflection, holding the line in my own heart than pointing out where others have crossed it in theirs. If my hope for humanity is truly peace on earth, I can’t lay that at the feet of others. 

Let it begin with me.