Note: My father grew up with both dogs and cats in an abusive home with an alcoholic father. When he adulted he retained his love of dogs, but, for some unknown reason, started hating cats. He transferred his love of dogs and hatred of cats to my young self. When I was a seven years old, I came across a stray cat, captured it, stuffed it into a burlap bag,and hung the bag from a tree limb. A strange, intoxicating power feeling of excitement came over me. Had I been an adult, it might have even led to a sexual orgasm. I had no intention of ever retrieving the cat, but after an hour, a horrible feeling overtook me. I sprinted to the tree, almost a half mile away, and released the cat. The cat was fine, and finally, so was I.
I have loved all life, especially cats, since that time (we now have two wonderful cats, Sassy and Felix). I have tried to deal with my father’s, and humanity’s, deprivation most of my life, repeatedly choosing love over cruelty. I write constantly about liberation from our conditioning, which is of ultimate importance to an increasingly indifferent culture.
The Republican party, and the evil Donald Trump, could learn something from this story, if they weren’t so self-satisfied having financial, emotional, or even biological orgasms derived from enforcing their power while contributing to the suffering of the innocents.
Love Over Cruelty: Lessons from a Childhood Transformed
What compels us to express power over others, sometimes cruelly, even when compassion lies within our grasp? Is it childhood conditioning, a hunger for dominance, or a lack of empathy fomented by a culture that celebrates strength over softness? These questions linger at the heart of our humanity, and confronting them is both deeply personal and profoundly collective. My story is one of transformation—from cruelty to love, from inherited biases to a conscious choice for empathy. It is a story with lessons that we, as individuals and a society, sorely need to learn.
Growing up, my father loved dogs but harbored an unexplained hatred for cats, a prejudice ingrained from his abusive childhood in a household marked by dysfunction and violence. Without realizing it at the time, he passed this dichotomy of love and hatred onto me. At seven years old, seeking to emulate my father’s perspective rather than understanding it, I committed an act of cruelty toward a stray cat that forever altered the direction of my life. And through that pivotal moment, I unearthed the roots of bias, the intoxicating allure of power, and, ultimately, the boundlessness of love.
Looking at both my past and the state of our world today, the parallels between individual growth and societal transformation become strikingly clear. The President of the United States, Donald Trump, and a significant subset of his supporters epitomize power derived through others’ suffering. They act as reflections of our collective shadows, revealing just how far humanity must go to overcome its ingrained cruelties.
But as I have learned, cruelty is neither absolute nor irreversible. Love indeed can triumph—but only if we reflect deeply on our own biases and histories while committing ourselves to change.
My seven-year-old self didn’t fully grasp why I felt compelled to harm a stray cat. Later in life, I came to understand that my actions stemmed not from inherent malice but from the psychological lessons absorbed in an abusive environment. My father’s unresolved trauma manifested in arbitrary hatreds, showcasing how deep and arbitrary our prejudices’ origins can be.
Psychological studies reinforce how childhood experiences shape adult behavior, belief systems, and even moral development. The landmark Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study reveals that traumatic environments can foster aggression, desensitization to violence, and binary thinking, behaviors that are eventually normalized and passed down through generations.
But beyond trauma lies another factor that incentivizes cruelty: the allure of power. Whether wielding power to dominate, exclude, or punish, it can ignite a fleeting sensation of strength or control, even over something as vulnerable as a stray animal. Neurological research suggests that acts of dominance stimulate dopamine release, the “reward” chemical, reinforcing a distorted sense of accomplishment tied to aggression rather than collaboration. In the extreme of power hunger and domination and control, it can even lead to a sense of sexual satisfaction, or orgasm.
However, unlike biological reflexes, our choices—to harm or to heal, to dominate or to empathize—are not immutable. The key to transcending conditioned behavior lies in something Donald Trump’s most ardent followers seem to dismiss entirely: self-reflection.
What shifted within me that day as a child, sprinting back to unburden a terrified animal from its hanging fate? Perhaps it was an awakening of empathy nascent within me but dulled by fear and conditioning. That dreadful, sobering moment taught me the weight of my actions, amplifying a simple but profound truth: we wield the power to either hurt or heal, with every single choice.
This transformation from cruelty to love has been mirrored by countless others who have successfully unlearned biases instilled in childhood. Nelson Mandela’s story, for example, is a testament to humanity’s capacity for change, forgiveness, and empathy. Emerging from decades of imprisonment under a system of hate, he did not retaliate with the same bigotry that had oppressed him. Instead, Mandela chose reconciliation. His example shines as a countermeasure to the divisive forces thriving in today’s political landscape.
Such choices, however, demand immense inner courage. They require us to confront how our upbringing, surroundings, and systems have subtly and overtly shaped our cruelty toward others and even ourselves.
The political arena serves as a magnifying glass for collective dysfunction, magnifying societal biases while often hardening them into policy. The Trump presidency stands as a glaring example. Campaigns laden with dehumanizing rhetoric about immigrants, women, and marginalized groups normalized cruelty as a form of leadership. Such a culture of scapegoating feeds into our most primitive inclinations to dominate rather than understand those who are different from us.
And yet, understanding is precisely what we need if we are to dismantle systemic prejudice. Studies on empathy-driven leadership demonstrate its positive ripple effects, from increased collaboration within organizations to improved trust among communities. A political climate built on empathy prioritizes not just policy outcomes but also the dignity and humanity of those impacted. It recognizes, as I did at that tree all those years ago, that cruelty born of power serves no one—not the perpetrator, not the victim, and certainly not society.
Perhaps the most pivotal lesson from my childhood story is this: we each hold the capacity for change. Cruelty, hatred, and division are learned behaviors, and as such, they can be unlearned. While certain leaders and movements perpetuate cruelty as a spectacle, they, too, can be unseated by the far more enduring power of love.
But stepping toward love is no passive affair. It demands intentionality, introspection, and collective effort. It requires us to ask uncomfortable questions about the prejudices we carry within and to prioritize the dismantling of these biases over the seductive simplicity of power. It requires choosing understanding over division—not once but repeatedly.
Whether through individual or societal transformation, humanity stands at a crossroads. Will we perpetuate cycles of cruelty to satisfy fleeting desires for dominance? Or will we rise above, consciously choosing love, empathy, and growth?
Reflect on the moments in your own life where you’ve faced such choices. Consider how your actions ripple out into the world, subtly feeding cruelty or compassion, division or understanding. And remember that within every one of us lies the potential to make a different choice—not just today, but every day.
Promote love over hate.
Choose empathy over isolation.
Seek understanding over condemnation.
And, most critically, share that ethos with those who come after you.
Together, we can unlearn the cruelties of yesterday and build a future where love always trumps cruelty.
The Malice Masked as Joy: Unveiling the Core of Schadenfreude in Trumpism
What kind of society gleans satisfaction from the suffering of others? What marrow-deep need is fed when pain is not merely ignored but exalted, cheered, and rationalized? Today, in the brittle heart of populist movements like Trumpism, this phenomenon takes on the undeniable guise of schadenfreude: that unsettling delight in witnessing others’ misery. But this is no abstract cultural tick—it is weaponized, celebrated, and baked into the political ethos of those who rally behind figures like Donald Trump.
We cannot untangle the threads of Trump support and its characteristic disdain for compassion without confronting this truth: its potent foundation lies in malicious joy. Beyond debates on policy or partisanship lies a darker, quieter reckoning—a form of glee derived not from self-improvement or progress, but from watching perceived enemies and vulnerable populations crumble.
This isn’t just about red versus blue or nationalism versus globalization. This is about America standing at a moral precipice, deciding whether it seeks to rebuild on empathy—or gleefully consume itself in the fires of cruelty and chaos.
We have all been there, haven’t we? The child in us might recall actions born of curiosity but steeped in callousness, like pulling the wings off a fly or teasing a schoolmate simply because we could. For me, such a moment exists in stark, shameful clarity. I was seven years old and overheard one of my father’s half-serious musings about hating cats. Curious to probe this disdain, I caught a stray cat, placed it in a burlap sack, and tied it high from a tree branch, though I quickly released when I became repulsed by my own cruelty.
I often think of that cat. Of how my childish thrill mirrored something society is now grappling with on a mass scale. But where my moment of cruelty was fleeting and instructive, schadenfreude has evolved into a reinforcing feedback loop within political ideologies like Trumpism—a defining tool wielded almost proudly, unchecked by self-reflection.
Donald Trump, above all, is a marketer of grandiose narratives. And one of his most effective campaigns has been commodifying cruelty—turning collective suffering into a consumable spectacle. Think of the cheers in 2015 when he mocked a disabled reporter. Or the callous chants of “build that wall” at rally after rally, fueled not by practical border policies but by collective exhilaration at the image of helpless, desperate migrants locked out of opportunity.
More, recently the termination of tens of thousands of federal workers with malice,and without cause has been heartless. His and Musk’s reckless treatment of the federal workforce is utterly unjust. Its conduct has proven itself unprofessional, shoddy and arguably illegal. But I don’t believe these poor termination tactics derive solely from incompetence. Setting termination dates just days before someone is no longer on probation takes planning. It takes a certain ruthlessness that is part of this administration’s ongoing pattern of intimidation.
These moments are not political blunders—they are calculated theater. They channel the raw emotion of schadenfreude into a rallying call for tribal unity. It is no longer just policy differences at play, but a frame of “us versus them” so ferocious that any suffering dealt to the outgroup becomes cause for celebration.
It is why Trump supporters often dismiss the pain of others. Whether it’s the impact on immigrants separated from their children, workers denied healthcare access, or climate refugees displaced by disasters many politicians refuse to address, the response is often glib indifference or outright contempt.
But this schadenfreude does something even more corrosive than hardening hearts. It creates an emotional addiction—a cycle where experiencing joy depends on witnessing someone else’s fall. This cycle infects not only individuals but political parties, communities, and ultimately institutions.
The result? A democracy split at its core between constructive politics and destructive nihilism. Institutions designed to serve the collective good become targets for demolition because their very existence represents compromise, compassion, and progress—values seen as weaknesses by those pulling at the seams.
Imagine the colossal effort it takes to rewire empathy into cruelty. It not only destroys the spirit of those it harms but also hollows out those who wield it, leaving behind only distrust, resentment, and insecurity.
The lesson, I believe, lies in the tension between power and compassion. I think back to that cat in the burlap sack—how easily I found joy in its torment, but how quickly I realized such joy was hollow and corrosive. Trump’s political ethos and the schadenfreude it cultivates rests atop a similar illusion: that strength is proven not by nurturing growth in others but by reveling in their destruction.
But we can disrupt this cycle. It is not only possible—it is necessary—for individuals and societies to confront the malicious impulses entwined within their cultural DNA. To do so, we must first name it, challenge it, and actively choose empathy over malice.
Where Do We Start?
- Promote Compassion in Politics
Elect leaders who value inclusion, cooperation, and the collective good over division and cruelty. Call out policies—regardless of party affiliation—that inflict harm to flex their power.
- Engage in Empathetic Dialogue
Seek to understand the motivations of those who revel in others’ suffering. Explore these dark underpinnings with grace and curiosity—not to excuse harm, but to challenge it without perpetuating the cycle.
- Speak Out Against Schadenfreude
It is vital to highlight, at every opportunity, that delighting in another’s suffering is not just morally wrong; it is spiritually empty. Acknowledge when we cross these lines, as individuals and as a culture, and commit to growth.
- Model Healthy Spirituality
Much of the animus within Trumpism stems from an impoverished spiritual life—a lack of grounding values or a connection to something bigger than themselves. Communities must champion spirituality not as dogmatism, but as a source of love, connection, and personal responsibility.
The path toward healing won’t be navigated by force alone. It requires us to step into the broken spaces and choose bold empathy, compassion, and a collective fight against darkness disguised as power. Compassion remains the rebellion—the audacious, radical answer to schadenfreude’s corrosive reign.
It begins with small, brave acts. Speaking up in defense of those who can’t defend themselves. Asking the empathetic questions others dare not ask. And electing leaders who elevate humanity rather than trample it for fleeting highs.
To choose kindness is to resist despair. Because cruelty burns, but love—and only love—rebuilds.
