Most people think they know the history of the Civil Rights Movement. They picture peaceful sit-ins, Rosa Parks on a bus, and Dr. King’s "I Have a Dream" speech echoing across the National Mall. But in 1959, a five-part television broadcast titled The Hate That Hate Produced fundamentally shifted how white America viewed the struggle for racial equality. It wasn't about "Turn the other cheek." It was about something much more unsettling to the status quo of the time.
It was raw.
Mike Wallace—long before he became the legendary face of 60 Minutes—teamed up with a young black journalist named Louis Lomax. Together, they went inside the Nation of Islam (NOI). What they brought back to the living rooms of mainstream America was a revelation that felt, to many viewers, like a direct threat. It was the first time the broader public really saw Malcolm X. It was the first time they heard the term "Black Muslims" used with such intensity.
The documentary didn't just report the news; it created a new reality.
What Actually Happened in The Hate That Hate Produced?
You have to understand the context of the late fifties. The media was almost entirely white. Black voices, when they appeared at all, were usually filtered through a lens of "patience" or "non-violence." Then comes this documentary. It premiered on WNTA-TV in New York, and it didn't hold back.
Wallace and Lomax presented the Nation of Islam not as a religious group, but as a "black supremacist" organization. The title itself—The Hate That Hate Produced—was meant to be a sociological explanation. The idea was that white racism (the first "hate") had birthed a reactive, militant black nationalism (the second "hate").
The footage was jarring. You saw disciplined men in suits, the Fruit of Islam, standing in sharp formation. You heard Elijah Muhammad and Malcolm X speaking about "white devils." For a white audience used to seeing Black people as submissive or asking for integration, this was a massive shock.
Honestly, the impact was immediate. The Nation of Islam’s membership didn't just grow; it exploded. People who felt that Dr. King’s methods were too slow or too soft found a voice in what Wallace was calling "hate." It’s a weird paradox. A program designed to warn the public about a "dangerous" group ended up being the best recruitment tool the Nation of Islam ever had.
The Louis Lomax Factor
Louis Lomax is often the forgotten hero—or villain, depending on who you ask—of this story. He was the one who actually got the access. Being a Black journalist gave him an entry point that Mike Wallace simply couldn't have achieved on his own. Lomax was brilliant and complicated. He saw the story as a way to show white America the consequences of their own systemic oppression.
He wasn't just a passive observer. He was narrating the fracture of the American dream.
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While Wallace provided the "authoritative" white voice that supposedly reassured viewers, Lomax provided the intellectual backbone. He knew that the anger being shown on screen was real. It wasn't some fringe cult phenomenon; it was a simmering resentment that had been cooking for centuries.
The Malcolm X Paradox
Before The Hate That Hate Produced, Malcolm X was mostly known within local communities in cities like Detroit, Chicago, and New York. After the broadcast? He was a national figure. He became the "boogeyman" for white liberals and a hero for those tired of being beaten by police during "peaceful" protests.
Malcolm’s brilliance was on full display. He didn't shy away from the camera. In fact, he used it. He realized that the media’s fascination with "black hate" gave him a platform to talk about black self-reliance, economics, and the reality of police brutality.
The documentary tried to frame him as a merchant of rage.
But if you watch the old clips today, you see something else. You see a man who is incredibly articulate, chillingly calm, and deeply logical within his own worldview. He took the "hate" label and flipped it. He argued that if a man hates a dog that is biting him, you don't blame the man—you blame the dog.
Why the "Hate" Label Stuck
The title of the documentary was clever, but it was also a trap. By labeling the Nation of Islam’s rhetoric as "hate," the media was able to create a false equivalence between the systemic violence of Jim Crow and the angry rhetoric of the oppressed.
It’s a tactic we still see today.
When a marginalized group gets angry, the focus often shifts from the cause of the anger to the expression of the anger itself. Wallace’s script was filled with words like "vituperative" and "sinister." It painted a picture of a brewing race war. It sold airtime. It made for great television.
But did it help people understand the NOI? Probably not. It helped them fear it.
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The Cultural Ripple Effect
The fallout from the broadcast was messy. The mainstream Civil Rights leaders—the "Big Six"—were suddenly under pressure to denounce the Nation of Islam. They had to prove they weren't "the hateful ones."
This created a visible rift.
On one side, you had the NAACP and the SCLC trying to keep the focus on integration and legislation. On the other, you had a growing segment of the population, energized by what they saw in The Hate That Hate Produced, who didn't want to integrate into a "burning house."
It also changed how news was produced. This was the birth of "confrontational" journalism. Wallace realized that fear and controversy drove ratings. This documentary was a precursor to the modern news cycle where the loudest, most "extreme" voices get the most microphone time.
Misconceptions and Missing Pieces
People often think the documentary was a hit piece that destroyed the NOI. It was the opposite. Before 1959, the Nation had maybe 30,000 members. Within a few years of the broadcast, that number likely doubled or tripled, though exact figures from that era are notoriously hard to verify.
Another misconception is that the documentary was purely objective. It wasn't. It was highly stylized. The lighting, the dramatic music, the somber tone of Wallace’s voice—it was all designed to evoke a specific emotional response. It was "infotainment" before the word existed.
And we should talk about the "hate" part again. The NOI’s theology at the time was undeniably radical and included beliefs about race that many today would find jarring. But the documentary largely skipped over the social programs. They didn't focus on the fact that the NOI was cleaning up neighborhoods, helping people overcome drug addiction, and building independent businesses.
That didn't fit the "hate" narrative. It wasn't "scary" enough for TV.
Why This Matters in 2026
We are still living in the world The Hate That Hate Produced helped create. We see it in how "radical" movements are covered on social media. The "angry" clip goes viral; the nuanced policy discussion dies in obscurity.
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When we look back at the documentary today, we have to see it as a mirror. It shows us how the media can take a legitimate grievance, wrap it in a "scary" package, and sell it back to a frightened public.
It also reminds us that Malcolm X was a product of his time. He didn't emerge from a vacuum. He was, quite literally, the result of the "hate" that the American system had produced through segregation, redlining, and violence.
If you want to understand the modern landscape of racial discourse in America, you have to go back to these five nights in 1959. You have to watch how the narrative was built.
Lessons from the Archive
What can we actually take away from this?
First, realize that the media is never a neutral observer. Every camera angle and every title choice has an agenda. When you see a group being labeled as "the most dangerous" or "the most hateful," ask yourself who is doing the labeling and what they stand to gain from your fear.
Second, understand the power of the "reaction." The Nation of Islam didn't disappear because of bad press; they thrived on it. They used the spotlight to reach people who felt invisible.
Finally, recognize that history isn't just a list of names and dates. It's a series of stories. The Hate That Hate Produced was a story that white America told itself to make sense of a changing world. It’s a story about the fear of losing control.
Moving Forward: How to Engage with This History
If you're looking to get a deeper handle on this, don't just take my word for it. Go to the sources.
- Watch the surviving clips. You can find segments of the documentary on archival sites or YouTube. Pay attention to the music and the narration. It’s a masterclass in tone-setting.
- Read Louis Lomax’s "The Negro Revolt." It provides a much more nuanced look at the era than the TV special could ever offer.
- Contrast the documentary with Malcolm X’s later speeches. Especially those after his 1964 pilgrimage to Mecca. You'll see how the man portrayed in the 1959 documentary evolved far beyond the "hate" label that Mike Wallace tried to pin on him.
Understanding this documentary is about more than just a piece of TV history. It's about understanding how we see each other. It’s about recognizing that "hate" is rarely a starting point—it’s usually a destination.
Dig into the archives. Look at the raw footage without the 1950s commentary. See the people, not the labels. That’s where the real history is.