On Disliking Others

Humans as Functions

I see human beings as functions—systems that take in inputs from the environment and produce outputs based on parameters shaped by experience and learning. I don’t believe in some fixed “essence” or personality residing inside people. Behavior is the result of inputs and conditions at a particular moment in time, not a revelation of some immutable core.

That’s why I don’t dislike people. Not “rarely”—I simply don’t. While I may feel discomfort or disapproval in response to certain actions, I don’t project that feeling onto the person as a whole. In the past, I used to have those kinds of emotional reactions, but not anymore. I evaluate behavior based on context, not people based on assumptions.

Why People Dislike Others as People

Many people, however, respond differently. When they see someone behave poorly or hold immature views, they don’t just judge the act—they reject the person entirely. Instead of separating behavior from identity, they assume the behavior reflects something wrong at the core of the person. “Someone who acts like that must be that kind of person,” they think.

That reaction, while emotionally charged, is cognitively efficient. Evaluating each behavior in its full context requires time and mental energy. Labeling someone as “bad” simplifies things. In social settings, sharing those labels also serves a purpose—it communicates values, builds in-group solidarity, and defines social boundaries. From a neurological standpoint, our brains also tend to remember negative information more vividly than positive. Once someone leaves a bad impression, it’s difficult to overwrite.

So while disliking someone might appear irrational, it actually serves as a kind of shortcut: it minimizes cognitive effort and helps stabilize social dynamics, even if it sacrifices accuracy.

The Asymmetry of Change

I know that human beings change—because I’ve changed. I wasn’t always able to treat people with kindness or think beyond myself. With time and experience, I’ve grown, expanded my thinking, and developed different behaviors. That’s not a theory—it’s something I’ve lived.

But this creates an asymmetry. I can track my own change in detail, from the inside. I know the thought processes, the struggles, the intentions. With other people, I only see fragments: behaviors, choices, outcomes. Their inner transformations—if they happen—are often invisible. This makes it easy to assume that while I’ve changed, others cannot.

That discrepancy creates a kind of illusion: we trust our own growth but doubt others’ capacity for the same. It’s a structural bias, not a fair assessment.

Choosing to Guide Instead of Dismissing

When I encounter someone who expresses an immature idea or behaves in a harmful way, I don’t dislike or look down on them. Instead, I consciously shift into a different mode of thought: How can I guide this person? What kind of conversation or influence might lead them toward change?

This isn’t because I expect it to be easy. On the contrary, I know that influencing another person’s behavior is one of the hardest things to do. But precisely because it’s difficult, I see it as a valuable challenge. It forces me to grow. It gives me a chance to confront the limits of communication, empathy, and patience. In that sense, encountering someone who needs guidance isn’t a burden—it’s a fortunate opportunity to learn something I couldn’t learn otherwise.

Trying to help someone change is not just about them. It becomes a mirror for my own development.

Seeing Change Instead of Fixing Identity

I judge behavior, not people. And I see those behaviors as the output of a dynamic process, not the expression of something fixed or eternal. Human beings are constantly changing, often in ways that are hard to observe from the outside. That’s why I resist the impulse to reduce someone to a single label based on one moment.

Closing off to someone because of one behavior means cutting off a whole range of future possibilities. But recognizing that they might change—might grow—means staying open to re-evaluating. Not out of naïve optimism, but out of respect for how real transformation happens over time.

To dislike someone is to stop watching, to stop expecting, to stop engaging. I would rather stay in a position where I can still observe, still adapt, and still be surprised. Because human beings are not finished objects. We are constantly in motion, shaped by what we take in and what we’ve been through.

Disliking someone? That closes a door. But staying open to change—that’s where I think the real work begins.