The most human duty

Amidst the breadth of suffering we’ve seen in the last several months of this exhausting year— the destruction of Medicare, the mass layoffs of crucial federal workers, the dismantling of political alliances, harsh rollbacks on trans visibility and rights and the tearing apart of families by masked and armed ICE agents, to name just a few— I’ve seen discussions circulating around empathy: that conservatives struggle with empathy, that white guilt is actually the impulse to feel empathy, that our culture has a severe lack of empathy among certain generations and groups, etc. And it’s got me thinking about what precisely the issue is with empathy in the United States.

For me, this question has some roots: I grew up hearing “bleeding heart liberal” utilized as an epithet against the left, with the implication that their empathy was well-intentioned but ultimately illogical and ridiculous: an achilles heel that led them to make stupid decisions that would at some point result in disaster or waste. Empathy was chuckled at as childish and juvenile. An abundance of it was seen as a sign not of moral strength but as an indication of poor fitness for leadership. As it would turn out in the years to come, this was a kinder view. These days, it’s openly ridiculed and denigrated as weakness by the right. Why? The full reason is more expansive than I can cover fully now or here. But I want to offer some of my thoughts.

Over the past year or so, I’ve read several books that have touched on the ideas of care, community, and connection: The Last Human Job by Allison Pugh, Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, Eve by Cat Bohannon, and The Good Ancestor by Roman Krznaric, to name a few. Each in their own way, these authors discussed themes of long-term thinking both in terms of history and the future, how connective and emotional labor functions in the workplace, and how these themes are a fundamental aspect of what it means to be a human being.

On the other hand, I have also read Cultish by Amanda Montell and Why Does He Do That by Lundy Bancroft: the first of which discusses how cults utilize language to manipulate their adherents, and the second of which explains what motivates abusers and how they enact abuse on their victims. What has struck me from the combination of these two books is the potential for severe perversion and manipulation of basic human impulses: the twisting and turning upside down of relationships by a dysfunctional and unequal power balance. The message I have been left with as a result of reading works such as these is this: Human beings are made for each other. A disruption or perversion of humanity’s ability to relate is a critical injury that enables atrocity. They cannot happen without it. From the Holocaust to Jonestown to the separation of children from their parents at the U.S. border and the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza, all have been enabled by dysfunction in human relating.

Humans have a natural impulse to empathize. Even babies as young as six months can empathize, as was demonstrated in research published in the British Journal of Psychology in 2019. The infants in the study demonstrated a clear preference for a character who had been harmed in a skit over the neutral character- despite only having barely developed object permanence around this time. On the other hand, we have a fundamental need to receive empathy, alongside our impulse to deliver it to others: other studies have shown throughout the years that connection with caregivers and consistent responsiveness to the needs of babies and children is critical to their well-being and ability to thrive. Beyond this, emotional regulation skills cannot be taught without empathetic mirroring: i.e., the simple acknowledgement, naming, and acceptance of one’s feelings from another party. This is to say: we learn both who we are and how to relate to others through empathy.

The deep necessity of empathy and connection go further than childhood. In the broad history of humanity we see tribal groups expand and survive through cooperation, eventually settling and developing agriculture and large civilizations, along with inventions and innovations we still use today. I have seen this described as purely utilitarian in nature before- as though the advancement of humanity throughout the world was motivated primarily by a you-scratch-my-back-I-scratch-yours arrangement, driven by survival-of-the-fittest in a ruthless and individualistic competition for survival. And no doubt a tit-for-tat dynamic (or elements of outright force) did play out during many major achievements, such as the construction of the Egyptian pyramids or the Roman plumbing system.

However, for each example of selfish self-interest working together or compelling the actions of others, we have examples of (what would be considered) unnecessary empathizing that marched in lockstep. Archaeological and other historical findings have shown that throughout history, and in times of scarcity when it would have been dangerous to do so, we have cared for the elderly, sick, and disabled members of our communities. In 2007, the 4,000-year-old remains uncovered in Burial 9 in Hanoi, Vietnam revealed a young man with a type of congenital segmentation disorder, which paralyzed him during childhood and would have caused significant neurological impairment, also potentially limiting his ability to chew. Despite being unable to feed, clean, or clothe himself as his condition progressed, he lived into his thirties. This finding, while striking, isn’t alone. In another example, a young female skeleton was discovered on the Arabian peninsula, dated to more than 4,000 years ago. She likely had a condition such as polio, with indications that she likely could not walk and required constant care. Going beyond exhibiting empathy in her daily care, her community likely fed her dates or other sugary foods, to such an extent that her teeth were cavity-ridden. They not only cared for her needs, but cared for her happiness.

To those who see human history as dog-eat-dog, this behavior may seem strange or unreasonable. After all, if our deepest desires are simply to proliferate our genes forward, wouldn’t resources best be spent on those that can materially contribute? Isn’t this empathizing dangerous? Isn’t it against our interests? In my opinion, no. Rather than reflecting the reality- that empathizing is fundamental to human community building, survival, and safety- it has been treated frequently in the U.S. as illogical and weak. Empathy has been cast off into the domain of the feminine, assisting its portrayal as minimally important, frivolous, or outright pathetic. A strict gender binary that categorizes communally-oriented and empathetic behavior as feminine and weak also categorizes self-motivated and individualistic behavior as masculine and strong: creating a distinction that does not truly exist. Empathy is not male or female, nor is it illogical. Empathy is profoundly logical: We are strongest together. In a world where the forces of nature and the forces of the powerful few can impose suffering and hardship on us, it only makes sense to pool resources and look out for each other, gathering the knowledge and motivation we need to continue from our community. This seemingly “illogical” behavior of caring for others, even when difficult, serves a deeper purpose: tying us together and motivating us to continue. In short, it gives us our will to live.

Because empathy has the power it does, it serves as a threat to those wanting to make exclusive claims to rule and dictate. For that reason, the powerful have few more important tools in their kit than separation, division, and the demonization of others. It is in the interest of those who want to elevate themselves above and outside of the broader human family that people tell themselves isolating fictional stories about how “real” men are rugged individuals that go it all alone, or that white people are some kind of master race that are meant to rule others. It’s beneficial to them to twist the historical narrative to be a story of notable individuals, such as in Great Man Theory, which posits that history is moved forward primarily by individual men destined for greatness, rather than by the diverse opinions, interests, reactions, and actions of all people, working together over time (and that eventually birth and cultivate those individuals). This ahistorical perversion of how the world works stymies progress by zapping people of their power in multiple ways: it keeps people away from those they would otherwise learn from and partner with, it reduces their capacity for rest and the accumulation of resources by necessitating that they work more for less gain, and demotivates them by obscuring the reality of other peoples’ lives. When you do not know and love your neighbors, you cannot share resources or understand their struggles, and you cannot gather the knowledge and strength needed to resist.

This is precisely why, for example, wealthy white landowners and enslavers were so deeply threatened by actions such as John Brown’s raid on Harpers Ferry, or why Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated by the FBI as he began to speak out more firmly against capitalism. These actions provided support for potential collaboration, uniting people with a common goal and understanding of their place in the power structure, and against the power of racism by dismantling the separation it imposes on artificially manufactured racial groups. Similarly, as other justice movements advance, such as gay and trans rights, feminism, Palestinian liberation, and disability rights, more people understand the fundamental similarities and common interests we share as regular people.

As we empathize and unite against common enemies and challenges to imagine and build a better world, those in power lash out and struggle harder to separate us. Young men are fed red-pill incel content online, and white teenagers are served racist and homophobic dogwhistles and tropes denigrating their non-white and LGBTQ classmates. Americans in general get siloed into entirely separate media diets, with white conservatives constantly consuming unsubstantiated conspiracies and outright lies, while everyone, at bare minimum, is consuming half-truths that obscure the nature of power. Then, the enemy isn’t the billionaire executive cutting your insurance coverage or the multi-millionaire boss replacing your role with a shoddy AI. It’s not the multinational corporation shipping jobs overseas, or the U.S. empire wasting tax dollars invading and destabilizing other countries, or the rising threat of homelessness pushed by private equity buying up family homes. It’s immigrants or drug addicts or minorities or women or trans people or gay people. It’s your neighbors.

That isn’t to say that those who buy into the propaganda aren’t culpable for their harm. They are. From white nationalists to anti-trans campaigners to those cheering on ICE raids, they are responsible for their actions and for the support they lend to oppressors. They have a responsibility to break with their groups in favor of the truth, and I know this because I’ve done it: I came from the conservative Christian world that elected Trump, and I left it behind in 2016 as an 18 year old college freshman because of its moral contradictions and embrace of bigotry (this, as I came to realize, had been present the entire time. I’d just been too insulated to see it until then). However, it is to say that their behavior would not be possible without the dismantling and demonization of their natural human impulse to empathize. Those that stick most closely to the American mythos— that it is a Christian country founded on freedom, that white Americans are superior and entitled to dominance, and that success is merit-based— have built an identity that is too fragile for criticism. Rather than having an identity that is connected to a deep and broad sense of community, theirs is narrow and based on adherence. You belong to your group, but only as long as you pass a constant flow of loyalty tests to prove your allegiance to the group and against outsiders, largely by forming an identity around being non-empathetic.

I began my break away from conservatism when I started to question sexism in the church and when I started, out of curiosity, to listen to the experiences of trans people. Leaning into my empathy created a rupture that was inoperable. All ruptures are inoperable in these groups. Comply, or get banished. They are desperate to belong somewhere- after all, they have the basic human need to belong. Like all cults do, conservatism nowadays takes advantage and perverts these drives. Empathy becomes dangerous and terrifying because it requires two things: to change their identity, and to take action against oppression. To embrace empathy, they must walk headfirst into cognitive dissonance, into the isolation that comes from breaking with the fold while not yet being safe to accept into a new one, and into the shame and guilt that stems from realizing that not only have you been wrong and manipulated: you have caused deep harm. I have walked that walk. I will be grateful for it for my entire life, but it was difficult.

Conservatives fear empathy because empathy requires responsibility and accountability. Responsibility and accountability require being seen and evaluated by others, receiving their criticism, and making amends. And then, continuing to dedicate efforts to doing better in real, tangible ways. It takes an ego death to shed allegiances to white supremacy, capitalism, American exceptionalism, sexism, homophobia, or other framework that falsely imposes hierarchy and creates divides. Whatever this may look like, when this duty is accepted, we are able to return to ourselves as empathetic human beings, removing the barriers placed between ourselves and others. To truly return home to empathy is to recognize your place in your community, locally, nationally, and globally. It is to accept empathy as the most human duty.

Saying goodbye.

Note: This was written in mid-January

Before you get worried, no, I’m perfectly fine. This isn’t a cry for help or anything to be concerned about. But it is a closing chapter of sorts, in the sense that you need one of those to start the next book in the series. I’ve been re-evaluating my life a lot lately, and the conclusion I’ve come to is that it’s time for me to divest from the things that sap my energy and my joy in order to reinvest in the things that truly make life worth living. Maybe you relate to this. Or not- but either way I invite you to hear me out.

The last several days I’ve been sick with one of the nastiest head colds I’ve had in awhile. It might be RSV or the flu. Either way, I’ve spent a lot of time lying flat on my back with nothing to do except scroll on my phone, hack up a lung, or sleep. It turns out the crushing weight of the world and the crushing weight of a viral load don’t go all that well together. As I’ve gotten older, social media and the intensity of online life has begun to feel overwhelming, like a constant droning background noise that’s hard to escape but hard to resist. I’m only human: I want connection, I want to know what’s going on, I want to laugh, and I don’t want to miss out on an opportunity I might only find if I stay stuck there, scrolling and hoping and wondering what’s next. But the cost has become too high. I get tense and aggravated every time I see an advertisement and the beginning of certain songs now make me grit my teeth from the sheer overplay (R.I.P., Too Sweet by Hozier, among others).

Now, I find myself missing the internet of my childhood. Not in its entirety, mind you- the internet of my childhood was a bit too lawless. Elementary schoolers were watching LiveLeak videos of people getting their heads blown off, girls were getting groomed on Kik, and kids were getting flashed on Omegle. But I miss the fractured nature of it. There were sites specifically for children, where we’d play educational flash games in much the same style we’d play a game offline. Or, if we were curious about particular topics, we’d find message board sites for that interest. Those still exist, but social media has become so all-consuming over the last ten to fifteen years that it’s difficult to think of what the internet even is without it. I miss when the internet was a place- a computer that you visited for an hour or two a day if that, and then closed down and left behind while you went about living the rest of your life. When I was young, it was a refuge from my life and a way to connect with people outside the bubble I felt constrained and trapped in. But since then I’ve built a life I don’t need to escape from, and my relationship to the internet and social media has become a drain.

So I began culling things. Over the past year or so, I mass-deleted from my following list and cut my own followers from most of my accounts, and made most of them private. I set time limits on my phone for most apps. While it did make things better by cutting down on the noise, It didn’t help as much as I hoped it would. Instead of honoring the limits I set, I found myself bypassing them to pass time when I was bored. Or, I was finding new nonsense to look at and respecting the letter but not the spirit of the rules I’d set for myself. It would take a larger motivation to finally and fully push me to do differently.

The final few months of 2024 were difficult for me, for reasons I won’t detail here. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the year, or create a coherent image of what it was like without separating it into a dichotomous before and after. I won’t say now that things are better per se, but they are different. Very different. What transpired caused me to reframe and reflect, hurrying along at a greater intensity and clip thought processes that were already in play. People pleasing and fawning behaviors I’ve struggled my entire life to understand and rid myself of came to light and got unceremoniously squashed. I got angry again. I realized that I’d quietly tolerated far too much and for no real benefit. So, fuck it.

Around the same time, the 2024 election occurred, the TikTok ban has come barreling down the track, Elon Musk is apparently the pseudo-president now, and Meta is cozily in bed with the incoming government. So, suffice it to say, it’s felt lately like there’s little reason to hold on anymore. Over the years, I’ve created and abandoned I don’t know how many random accounts on how many random sites I don’t even remember exist anymore. What’s one or two more to add to the pile?

I want boring internet and an exciting life. I want to be engaged with the world, even if it seems like it’s burning. I want to visit this place and then leave it behind when I’m finished with it, rather than living passively in the passenger seat as I’ve driven along into endless consumption. I’ve seen more than enough ads convincing me I need a new viral sweat set on Amazon or gel pens on TikTok shop. I don’t need it, and neither do you. I need my life to be something.

So I am going away and saying goodbye. To an extent- I’m staging a partial exodus from Instagram and Facebook and returning to the old internet. I used to have a little Blogspot blog and a Tumblr blog back in the day where I’d write my thoughts down and then leave them behind. I’m older now and it isn’t quite the same, but I want to create a space to write out my thoughts without seeing who’s seen them or monitoring for comments. Those who care, can, but otherwise it’s okay if it just sits mostly unseen. It’s for me, and that’s alright. There’s no obligation to it for me or anyone else. This is a part of something bigger for me.

2025 has loomed large for me. I’m not a super strong astrology girl, really, but my Saturn return is coming up in a few months and I’m willing to take it as a sign of new beginnings. I feel as though all my life has been preparing me to be 27 and ready for something- as though all of the bullshit and reforming and reorienting and redoing I’ve had to do so far was to make me the person I needed to be for the rest of my life. Starting now. Which, sure, is a very strong statement to make. But I get to make it true, don’t I?

I’m going to be present here sometimes so I can be present in the rest of my life. If you would like to follow along, feel free to come with me. My goal is to post photos of my life, reflections on the world or whatever topics have me up at night, reviews of the long backlog of books I need to get through, and my opinions on music and movies. I am going to figure out how to, in incremental steps, find replacements for the things I’ve relied on social media for, and maybe detail them here. All I know is that I feel ready for it.

Thanks for reading.

Footnote from March:

In the time since I initially wrote this, I’ve had a steady media diet of bad news. It’s come my way with such force and speed that I’ve had little time for anything other than panic, dread, and resentment. It’s probably the worst my mental health has been since 2020. What I’ve said here, on reflection, is more true for me now than it was even a few weeks ago. I will say directly that I am scared and will continue to be scared in the coming months and years, but that allowing my zone to get flooded (a la Steve Bannon, ugh) has set me on edge in a way that has made it necessary for my mental well-being to better align my life with my values, and that has required setting my focus more narrowly on what I can change, and away from what I cannot.

I am determined, as far as I’m able to be, not to allow these changes to steal myself from me. I’ve had other dark periods. I remember what 2016 and 2020 felt like, but I am very different now than I was in either of those years. The impulse to retreat and hide is still my baseline, but I don’t want to give in to that, so I am choosing not to. Now, with fascism not at the door but at the wheel, it’s clear to me than the social media and online worlds have not only played an instrumental role in creating the mess we’re in, but are serving to splinter and distract us from the work in front of us if we are to fight for a country worth living in. And that goes for all of us, not just Americans. Unfortunately, this issue is global. I don’t know that I’ll bunker down here in the States forever and weather the storm in the eye of it, but no matter what, I am forever changed by the last decade and what it has taught me, and I can never look away. So I am shifting my view, but not closing my eyes.