Empathy is a word that — like all words — falls short of completely conveying the deepest meaning of the idea that it seeks to express. Unfortunately, there is an inherent reduction of such meaning when a thought or emotion travels from one’s mind to one’s mouth or hand. In short, we “lose” something when we attempt to talk or write about whatever we’re thinking or feeling. This diminution of thought or emotion is akin to the loss of the “gut” meaning of words when we translate them from one language to another. (This is reminiscent of philosopher Immanuel Kant arguing that it is impossible to know a thing “in itself.”)
I use this academic language only for the somewhat ironic purpose of trying to convey how difficult it is to genuinely empathize with someone who is experiencing some form of trauma or tragedy, such as the death of a loved one. I agree with those who argue that, unless we’re going through exactly the same thing at exactly the same time as someone else, it’s futile to say, “I know how you feel.” Thus, simply writing that “it’s nearly impossible to genuinely empathize with other people” seemed inadequate to me.
Even in literature, characters who lack the capacity to empathize are among our most unpalatable antagonists. This ranges from zombies whose rapacious appetites are immune to their victims’ pleas, to cold and calculating serial killers, to the more mundane psychopaths, nihilists and misanthropes who haunt our novels. By contrast, we often exalt the ability to literally feel others’ pain to superhuman status, such as we see in science fiction. In short, empathy is simultaneously that which is foundational to our humanity and that which we elevate to the realm of the supernatural.
So, what does any of this have to do with … anything?
The pandemic that we are enduring has had the collateral effect of forcing millions of people in America to experience levels of grief, anger, hopelessness, fear and poverty that they could not have imagined before it took hold. Prior to now, it has been easy for many people to dismiss the abject suffering and the soul-stealing sense of loss that the least fortunate experience day after day, month after month, year after year.
The extreme opposite of empathy is apathy. Apathy — the inability or outright refusal to care about the suffering of others — is one of the key factors that ensures social and economic inequality. Donating a meal to the less fortunate at Thanksgiving or Christmas, or donating to a charity to assuage one’s guilt (or for a tax break) is simply not enough. But actions are the outgrowth of what resides in the deeper regions of our psyche. Thus, if we remove empathy from our heads and our hearts we will be much less likely to view others as our brothers and our sisters.
To be sure, I’m not suggesting that we all “wear our emotions on our sleeves” to the extent that we personally experience trauma every time we learn about someone else’s calamity. Psychologists acknowledge the existence of a phenomenon that is known as “compassion fatigue,” which is the emotional equivalent of experiencing “burn out” from one’s job or other major responsibilities (including caring for a loved one). Compassion fatigue is relatively common, for example, among medical professionals and other first responders. The ability to maintain a certain level of emotional distance from the suffering of others is critical to our own well being.
The profoundly disruptive and far-reaching effects of the coronavirus have presented humanity with a terribly wonderful opportunity. This new reality has made real the old adage that “to comfort the afflicted you sometimes have to afflict the comfortable.” I am hopeful, though certainly not optimistic, that the tragedies and struggles that formerly financially comfortable people are now experiencing will trigger in them a long-lasting sense of empathy for the less fortunate. I hope that those who believe, whether publicly or privately, that people are poor simply because they are always “looking for a handout” will understand that where we are in life is often the result of forces that are beyond our control. I pray that they will now fully embrace the truism that, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”
Larry Smith is a community leader. Contact him at larry@leaf-llc.com.
