In his excellent book Fair Play, Steven Landsburg relates an incident in which he learns never to underestimate the power of those who hate to see others enjoy themselves. In the same vein, I would caution people to never underestimate the power and malevolence of those who love destruction for its own sake. Consider the following passage from Les Miserables:

"No one pries as effectively into other people's business as those whose business it most definitely is not. 'Why does that gentleman only ever come at dusk?' 'Why doesn't what's-his-name ever hang his keys on the hook on Thursdays?' 'Why does she always take the backstreets?' 'Why does Madame always get out of her fiacre before it drives into her hard?' 'Why does she send someone out for a block of writing paper when she has loads of stationery in the house?' And so on and so forth. There are beings who, to find the answer to such teasing riddles, about which, furthermore, they don't actually give a fig, spend more money, devote more time, go to much more trouble than ten good deeds would require; and do so gratuitiously, just for the hell of it, without being rewarded for their curiosity except by curiosity itself. They will follow this or that person for days at a time, while away the hours loitering on sundry street corners, under the arches of passageways, at night, in the cold and the rain, bribe desk attendants, get coach drivers and lackeys roaring drunk, buy off a chambermaid, put a porter in their pocket. What for? For nothing. For the sake of finding out, knowing, penetrating the mystery. Out of an itching need to be able to tell. And often, once these secrets are out, the mysteries broadcast, the enigmas exposed to the light of day, they lead to catastrophe, duels, bankruptcies, ruined families, shattered existences--to the great joy of those who 'got to the bottom of it all' for no apparent reason than through sheer instinct. Sad.

"Some people are malicious out of a simple need to have something to say. Their conversation, parlor talk, antechamber gossip, is reminiscent of those fireplaces that swiftly go through the wood--they need a lot of fuel, and the fuel is their neighbor."

Victor Hugo, Les Miserables, trans. 2009 by Julie Rose, New York: Modern Library, p. 150.