Recently I picked up a book at the library called Against Empathy: The Case for Rational Compassion by Yale psychologist Pual Bloom. Hmmm, I thought, This is pretty iconoclastic. Everybody seems unequivocally for empathy. This was one of my stuck-at-the-library times when the house was being shown, as I recall, so I sat down to see if it was worth checking out, fairly quickly deciding that it was one of those books that lays out the whole argument in the introduction and then uses the rest of the book to give different example or aspects of that central truth.
Nothing wrong with that, I guess, and some ideas just lend themselves to that treatment, but I felt that I’d gotten the gist and so didn’t check it out. (I think I’m going to do a post on several books that fit that mold.)
At about the same time I was in a class discussion about the importance of empathy, and as a followup we were sent the video I’ve posted below from a research professor in social work, Brené Brown. And, finally, this morning in my usual perusal of the National Review I ran across this article by Jonah Goldberg, “The Dangers of Empathy,” in which he quotes approvingly from Bloom’s book and gives his take on Jimmy Kimmel’s recent story about his newborn son’s heart surgery.
Brown is decidedly pro-empathy, Goldberg and Bloom decidedly against it, or at least against certain aspects of it. So I thought it would be interesting and helpful to examine the three terms empathy, sympathy, and compassion. I won’t be able to do the discussion justice in one post, as I try to limit myself to no more than 1,000 words, so you can expect this topic to pop up again.
Let’s take a look at the Brown video. You can scroll down to watch it before you read this paragraph if you’d like, but here’s a summary. First, we’re told that “empathy fuels connection; sympathy drives disconnection.” Then we’re shown a depressed little fox, an empathetic bear, and a so-called sympathetic gazelle. Here’s the thing: What’s labeled ”sympathy” in the video is nothing of the kind. The gazelle (or whatever it is) isn’t sympathetic at all; she’s dismissive. She’s judgmental, implying that the little fox’s problems aren’t really all that bad, using those dreaded words, “At least.” You had a miscarriage? At least you know you can get pregnant. Etc. The gazelle is just a caricature. She feels no true sympathy, that is, pity or commiseration. She just wants the little fox to admit that things aren’t all that bad and get on with life. (I see myself somewhat in the gazelle, in case you think I’m being too hard on her.)
But what does the bear do? He takes the fox’s depressive cloud and tucks it into his shirt, in other words, taking her depression on himself. When she falls into a deep hole, he climbs down there with her and tells her that he understands, that he’s been there, too. The gazelle comes down briefly to paint their respective clouds with a fake silver lining, but mostly she makes unhelpful suggestions. The video ends with the bear hugging the fox and a big heart appearing over them both. The thing of it is: They’re both still down in the hole.
What would be truly helpful to the fox? Perhaps neither empathy nor sympathy, but compassion. I believe I’ve used these two examples before, but they fit so well here that I’m dragging them out again. First, a scene from The Jewel in the Crown, the monumental PBS series that aired several decades ago, about life in India under British control. One scene in particular has always stuck with me: the aftermath of a horrible train wreck, with dozens of wounded and dying Indians lying on the ground out in the hot sun. Another train, this one carrying two British couples, is forced to stop because of the wreck. The older couple is outraged at the delay, sitting and fuming in the railroad car. The younger couple gets out and tries to help, carrying water to the wounded. They are, in the words of Bloom’s book, “rationally compassionate.” They don’t waste time by trying to imagine how it feels to be in pain, thirsty, and out in the sun. They instead set to work doing something about the situation. The same thing happens in Scripture with the story of the Good Samaritan. He doesn’t say, “Oh, my goodness, how awful for you!” to the beaten and robbed man. Instead, he gets busy helping him. The concept of compassion is at work here: “a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.” (from Dictionary.com, emphasis mine.)
All very well, but what about people who are hurting emotionally, which is the subject of the video? Certainly there is room for thoughtful listening, for questions that show you want to understand the other’s situation, for expressions of sorrow and pity for another’s misfortune. And sometimes that’s enough. Sometimes just talking about a problem with a good listener helps a person see a way forward on his or her own, so well and good. But often the truly helpful action is neither sympathy nor empathy, but, again, that pesky rational compassion idea: “What are some ideas about what you could do in this situation?” Let the person vent, let the person share, but then at least point out (kindly, of course) that there’s a ladder out of the hole!
I would strongly encourage that you read the Goldberg article linked to above and then watch the video (it’s very short).