America has an Empathy Shortage

We care, but with conditions and exceptions

I originally set out to write about the homeless crisis. America has a homeless problem, sure, but the housed have an empathy problem.

That’s an article I’ve been wanting to write for some time. But, me being me, I started to overthink.

Empathy has become something of a hot button word in America these days. Podcast hosts, CEOs, and vice presidents alike are calling kindness a weakness. Pastors are cautioning against the sin of empathy.

Wait a second, the sin of empathy?

Last I checked, the Bible commands you to love your neighbor, to “judge not”, to give to the poor, and to have compassion. Did they come out with a new translation?

They must have, because this anti-empathy movement has the backing of America’s political and religious masses alike. The so-called “moral country” only seems to wield morals as a means of judgment, never a reason to care.

Subhuman

The campaign to get you not to care

Thousands of people live without shelter over their heads. In freezing cold and searing heat, through starvation and illness, they live without access to rest, privacy, and autonomy.

Why isn’t this a bigger issue for those of us who are housed?

For many of you, the talking points are likely on the tip of your tongue: they’re all addicts and criminals, they’re homeless by choice, it’s their own fault, they’re just plain lazy, and what can we do anyway?

I don’t expect a free handout, why are the homeless entitled to help?

Most people do care about other people. Most people possess empathy, to some degree. Most people are not cold and unfeeling to the suffering of others.

But all of us have exceptions to our empathy, whether we realize it or not.

Most people feel bad or the homeless, sure, but still hold the opinion that they should “pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Get a job, right?

Those same people often judge any homeless person who owns a phone. They say, if you can afford that, why you can’t you afford food and a place to stay?

These days, however, you can’t really get a job without access to the internet. Most businesses no longer take paper applications at all.

So you need some form of internet access to get a job. You also need transportation. And let’s face it, you need the ability to clean up: clean, professional clothes and access to a shower.

When you have a job interview, you probably shower and put on your best clothes without thinking about it. You probably have a warm car to drive; you probably get something to eat first.

The homeless person you’re judging may not have any of those things. If they get an interview, they might have to show up on an empty stomach, feet aching from the walk, and demoralized from lack of access to personal hygiene.

It’s clear the bootstraps alone are not enough. You can’t pull yourself out of such a situation without access to key resources. That’s why we have homeless outreach, right? Shelters, soup kitchens, charities.

But too often in the war on homelessness, the real casualties are the homeless people themselves.

In Oklahoma, a bill was proposed restricting how cities can aid the homeless. If passed, it would’ve made it illegal for all but two cities in the entire state to have homeless shelters.

Legislation varies from place to place. Some pass restrictions, like Oklahoma tried to. Sometimes well-meaning laws trap homeless people in shelters with overly strict rules and no privacy, where they struggle to find work because they’re required to be at the shelter a certain amount of time.

Many cities have installed anti-homeless architecture, such as benches that can’t be laid down on, or taken benches out entirely.

You can’t stop in a private business to warm up or use the bathroom. You can’t linger too long in public areas. Loitering and trespassing laws make it difficult to rest anywhere.

What all of this amounts to is basically torture. Walking torture, to be exact. When you can’t stop anywhere for too long and you have nowhere to stay, you have to constantly keep moving. There’s no escape from the exhaustion.

How is it, then, that so many housed people expect the homeless to live in conditions they themselves couldn’t tolerate and “pull themselves up by their bootstraps”? You probably don’t expect yourself to do your best work while hungry, unprotected from the elements, tired, and unwashed. So why do you expect homeless people to move mountains while stuck in the same scenario?

America is a wealthy country. We have enough resources to solve the homeless problem. Yet, it’s an issue continuously placed on the back burner or attacked with the same old useless strategies. Why don’t we, the housed people, put more pressure on our government to address the plight of homeless people? Why do we look away instead of shining a spotlight?

It’s clear that the homeless crisis is prolonged, not because of lack of resources, but because of an empathy shortage.

Who cares?

More importantly, who benefits when you don’t care?

Without empathy, no one cares enough to try to solve these problems. Without empathy, there’s no reason to help. No reason to push for social change. No reason to hold accountable the people, companies, and systems that worsen these issues.

We’ve created a culture of conditional empathy. We care about people—but not all people.

We care about the poor, but not poor people on our own streets.

We care about war torn countries, but not Gaza.

We care about the hungry, but most people don’t even know that Yemen (yes, the Yemen we’re currently bombing) is experiencing one of the worst famines in history.

We care about fair and humane treatment, but not when it comes to migrants in overcrowded ICE facilities.

Our empathy comes with a set of conditions and exceptions. You want to know why someone’s homeless before you care that they’re tired and hungry and colder than you’ve ever experienced.

When formerly homeless people tell their stories, one of the very worst things they experienced is the sheer dehumanization.

It’s a crazy psychological trick: convincing “normal people” that a certain people group is subhuman. Usually, it’s a subconscious belief. Sometimes it’s written into law, like how African-American slaves were legally considered 3/5 human.

This is a concept especially well-demonstrated in the Hunger Games series, particularly the prequel. We see how the Capitol doesn’t view people from the district as fully human, describing them as animalistic. In “Sunrise On The Reaping”, Haymitch’s stylists refer to his fingernails as “claws”.

This mindset primes the people of the Capitol to accept, and even celebrate, watching terrible things happen to district children. From the Capitol’s point of view, district kids are entertainment at best, and beasts at worst.

I don’t care how different they are from you or what they might’ve done to deserve your ire, when the government tries to tell you a people group isn’t really human, you should pay attention. It’s a major red flag, every time.

This psychological trick deactivates our empathy, diverts our attention, and keeps us passive.

If you’re too busy trying to figure out which homeless people “deserve” their circumstances, the conversation won’t even get around to how to effectively help the crisis.

If you’re too focused on what Palestinians did to “deserve” their suffering, you won’t be paying attention when Israel breaks ceasefires, bombs hospitals, and intentionally targets journalists.

Once again, this is very well demonstrated in the Hunger Games prequels. In “Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes”, we see how the memory of the “dark days” keeps the Capitol angry at the district. Even later, in “Sunrise On The Reaping”, when many people don’t even remember the dark days, they continue to blame district kids who weren’t even alive.

As extreme as it may seem to compare our world to that of the Hunger Games, it’s accurate by design. Suzanne Collin’s has stated that she only writes when she has something to say; often, she has something to say about the effects of dehumanizing propaganda.

Our world has many struggles, many issues, and many plights. America has many crises. But beneath it all is the social crisis of our conditional empathy.

Does it really matter if someone is homeless because they made a mistake? Mistakes don’t strip people of their humanity. Mistakes don’t automatically mean you don’t deserve help.

Make America kind again

Taking care of people is the whole point

Kindness may not be the most profitable path. That’s why the government—both red and blue alike—would rather you forget that homeless people are people. Conditional empathy keeps you only caring about the “right” issues, and letting human lives slip through the cracks.

The first priority of any society should be how best to take care of the people within it. But if a government can convince you that some people aren’t really people, they’re off the hook.

Which is why meaningful change is gonna have to start from the bottom up. Change doesn’t start with politics, elections, and policies. It starts in the hearts, minds, and actions of everyday people.

We need a cultural shift to change our country’s priorities: people above profit, not the other way around.

We will never progress past having to take care of each other. We all, at some point in our lives, need help.

Empathy is not weakness; it is not a sin. It’s a key building block to a society that actually takes care of its people, and to people who are able to lead happy, healthy, connected lives.

There’s no point in making a country “great” if it’s not also good. So I say, make America kind again.