The conversation around empathy (if you can call a series of disjointed hot takes a conversation) has gotten a bit out of control. On the one hand, you have introspective arguments that liberals have lost touch and need to somehow reconnect with the working class. On the other, a reactionary shift is emerging amongst people who are sick of being asked to identify with bigots and racists, believing that it’s upon the intolerant to become better humans rather than upon us to connect with them.
The stopping point
For me, the notion that empathizing with the intolerant would be so distasteful that one would refuse such engagement could stem from only a few lines of thought, of which the predominant themes are:
- These people are so hopeless that such exercises are useless.
- I emotionally can’t handle that kind of conversation right now.
- Identifying with these people is just giving them an out—why would I do that? It’s on them to improve.
If you fall into the first bucket, I encourage you to read the rest of this article but I hold little hope in swaying your opinion. For those in the second camp, I completely understand and you should take the time and the space to feel emotionally healthy again. It’s the apparently many who fall into the final category that I’d like to talk to and about for a bit.
Because in practical terms, that reasoning implies a plan of action in which one engages, empathizes, and then the curtains fall and the story concludes. The act of performing empathy is the ask.
But such is a short-sighted view of where our civic conversation can and needs to go. Empathy is the bridge. It’s what lets us open that conversation at all, and begin to work out our problems. If we don’t have a genuine interest in understanding the viewpoint of those we wish to reach, what on earth do we think we’re doing? And even if we buy into our own arrogance that we can govern and carry out discourse reasonably and informedly without that kind of understanding, how are we to convince these people to consider our ideas if we don’t truly understand theirs?
If you think the hard work and difficult conversation that follows the act of empathy isn’t an integral part of the solution, then what you’re imagining is hardly a solution at all.
Empathy is not sympathy
And this ties into numerous broader ideas. Primary amongst them are two interconnected trends within the liberal sphere:
The first is the age-old misunderstanding of empathy. Empathy is not sympathy. Empathizing with somebody you disagree with is not the same as condoning those viewpoints. At the heart of empathy is the desire to understand. To understand to the core. Okay, you believe these things—why do you believe them? And why do you believe that? And why do you believe that? Without a full understanding of the broader contexts that feed into a person’s formulation of a viewpoint, we lack the means to correct the appropriate misinformation and deconstruct problematic conclusions. Without empathy, we can only squabble about in the shallowest of rhetorics, which almost by definition amounts to little more than name-calling, denigration, and disconnection.
The second is the tendency to engage with issues with no aim other than to feel upset about them. The above-described substitution of empathy as an end rather than a means is illustrative of (and possibly derived from) this broader tendency: a social problem becomes known, outrage is expressed, maybe it’s shared and commented upon angrily, and then—nothing. And so often these engagements are so perfunctory that they can only really be considered sympathy. Again, the difference is the desire to truly understand. Mere sympathy can be dangerous. Sympathy devolves readily into pity. Into patronization. And feeling sorry for a person or a group does nothing to help their situation: indeed, pitying those you wish to protect often brings naught but great harm. But again and again, people who profess to be understanding, helpful allies of the persecuted demonstrate that their investment goes only as far as experiencing a personal emotion. Again, I ask: what’s the point?
The point
Here’s the point. Or rather, here is one illustrative case of the point. Even now, of all times, I believe deeply in humanity. I believe that just as we can sympathize with a pencil because it has been given a name, we can only hate and disparage those whom we have ceased to regard as fellow humans. When confronted with the humanity of those we’ve been subtly coaxed into regarding as animals, I believe in our innate humanity as an inexorable force for compassion and understanding. Being ostracized and shamed did nothing to dissuade Derek Black of his views, while the simple act of being included in a small and unpretentious but diverse community forced him to confront his own ideals and draw a different conclusion. This is not an isolated case. (Read this article. It’s important.)
This may sound in conflict with the previous section. After all, if what we need to do is to listen to and believe in each other, how can I claim that there are serious problems manifesting amongst those who already do?
But, do they?
Empathy on the left
I see time and time again in our national conversation a puzzling lack of empathy from the left—particularly recently. Here’s an example; just watch 50 seconds or so:
Really? As a society, we canonize our greatest artists. We craft mythic sagas and heartfelt documentaries about artists and their work. Jiro Dreams of Sushi, and I don’t think anybody would scoff if he said that a part of him goes onto every plate that he sends out of the kitchen. But because Jack Dreams of Wedding Cakes, and because he holds a narrow-minded view of the world, suddenly his art doesn’t count? Imagine being Jack. Imagine that you’re trying to have a serious conversation about something that deeply troubles you, and instead of earnest consideration in return, you get… whatever that was. Dismissal. Jeering.
Here’s an alternative rebuttal: “Look, I get it. Your faith tells you that gay marriage is wrong, and because you’re being asked to create art for a wedding, you feel like you’re a vital participant in something that violates your deepest beliefs. But at some point as a society we need to be able to look past our differences and be able to perform basic functions with each other in order to actually be a society. I know it’s a tough swallow, but being part of a diverse, beautiful country means that we all have to make some sacrifices here and there when it comes to our own beliefs. If we begin shutting each other out, where does that road lead? Who are we to become?”
Is that not more productive? Is that not a starting point for a much more serious conversation around what it really means to be American, and to really love your neighbor, perceived faults and all?
Similar arguments apply to many of our other current debates. Do we think we have an airtight understanding of when consciousness begins and when it’s acceptable to prevent a life from occurring? This feels like an overreach of our scientific and philosophical grasp. And is it truly unimaginable to believe that life begins at conception, and that to terminate such a life is immoral? We can’t begin to seriously convince those on the other side that a woman’s right to choose is paramount when we equally refuse to treat their most fundamental beliefs with the barest of dignity and respect. To me, these cases are perfect illustrations of a recurring and peculiar lack of empathy from the left.
And no, I don’t want to draw any false equivalence here. On the one hand, you have a group of people who are intolerant of others due to irrelevant things that are out of their control: their sexual orientation or gender identity or skin color or any number of other factors that have absolutely no bearing on who they are as a person and how they can contribute to our society. And on the other, you have a group of people who have become increasingly intolerant of the former because of things they collectively choose to do or believe. These are absolutely not the same. But if we believe we’re the more open, tolerant folk, then it’s upon us to prove it through action rather than rhetoric. The reductive, reactionary, if-you-call-me-a-pot-I’ll-call-you-a-kettle comments springing up about liberals being an intolerant group are not, for the time being, entirely unfounded.
Having a conversation
And think about that comment. I’m sure you’ve seen many of the ilk — if you have attempted to engage in conversation with a Trump supporter, such barbs are inescapable. Think about how that comment made you feel. It was unfair. It hurt; maybe it was meant to hurt. It made you clam up and not want to engage. But as I’ve hopefully illustrated, is there not a morsel of truth in there? It’s nearly impossible to identify in that moment when you’re hurting. Humans are incredibly bad at receiving feedback even when it’s phrased in the best of terms. We lash out. We reject. And this goes double when our identity is attacked, intentionally or not. We fail to hear what can objectively be an underlying truth we can use to better ourselves.
But this is exactly the same thing we try again and again to force upon those who disagree with us. We call them hurtful names. Racist. Misogynist. We reduce and dehumanize. Again: what may or may not be a truth behind those labels ceases to matter when the delivery mechanism is a stab, and in particular a stab at identity. Few people identify or believe themselves to be racist. Our biases even amongst city-dwellers are so ingrained and subtle that they can be extraordinarily difficult to recognize and tease out.
And yet time and time again I hear from my fellow liberals that we need to call a spade a spade and that these people need to own up to who they are before we can have a conversation. Such a stance can’t be anything but a clear non-starter: you can’t come to a common table only on the precondition that the other side regard themselves as scum. At some point we may have to decide between the absolutism of our ideals and making progress as a people.
A means
And so we come (a way a lone a last a loved a long the) full circle. Our lived experiences in this country vary by so incredibly much. And much like when tourists go abroad and seek out only exoticizing experiences, and view their destinations through the lens of the weird, and the foreign, and the therefore kind of titillating and funny and cutely fascinating, so too do we neglect to truly consider what it would be like to view the world from the other side in our own country. To watch Obama or Hillary stand on stage and see only liars who cannot and will not understand you, and filter their every sentence through that basis. (Try that experiment sometime.) Or to live in a city or a part of a city that’s truly struggling and to not be able to escape the sheer density of hopelessness around you. To have absolutely no way out, no way up.
We need to form genuine connections in this country. We need to truly understand why our compatriots believe what they do before we can begin to overcome or find ways to live with those differences. We need to bring our rhetoric in this country up to something that’s positive and productive. To open with genuine hospitality, and to begin not by arguing but by asking questions. To seek to understand. And not to retaliate or debate or even really say anything at all until we truly and deeply understand their viewpoint from their perspective.
Because Jon Stewart was right, as with so many things, with his Rally to Restore Sanity. Like too many others at the time, I had problems with what appeared to be his false equivalences between the transgressions of the left and the right. But now I see that we all completely missed his point — that the tone of rhetoric, not the ideas underlying nor even the factuality of that rhetoric, on both sides of the aisle had gotten unsustainably poisonous. That we were reaching the point where we could no longer have a conversation.
But we need to have those conversations. And those conversations begin with empathy.
