Empathy by itself reinforces the status quo
“Oh, my God. I don’t know who these kids are. I don’t know what kind of things they like. I don’t know if the parents want the kids to know that somebody else is bringing them Christmas and this is all wrong.”
I love this quote from Jacqueline Novogratz in her conversation with Tim Ferriss.
“So moral imagination starts with empathy, but I’ve learned time and time again that empathy by itself reinforces the status quo or at least risks doing so. And so the idea of moral imagination is understanding by immersing a particular problem, and then thinking systemically about those issues that get in people’s way, and then frankly, being honest enough to recognize where people get in their own way, and then moving from there.”
Novogratz goes on to provide further context, which I’ve included below. [Full transcript here.]
Empathy has been a hot topic over the past couple of years, especially during the pandemic. I highly recommend this article and this book (a part of this great series) from Harvard Business Review.
Tim Ferriss: “When you say empathy in some cases enforces the status quo, could you elaborate on that? Do you mean that it’s just an us versus, not versus, but an us and them kind of the savior of the fill-in-the-blank? Is it that dichotomy that’s created or not that that is what empathy does of course, but what do you mean by enforcing the status quo?”
Jacqueline Novogratz: “I think it’s even deeper. I think when I first learned about the moral imagination was in college, when I was at Charlottesville, ironically, given everything that happened in Charlottesville a few years ago, and I signed up to bring a turkey dinner and all the trappings of a Christmas to this community that was 30 minutes away from the University where low-income people lived. I was also kind of a wild co-ed, so we had this big party. We asked everyone to bring food and toys to make a perfect Christmas for these kids. I was really excited because I felt at some level, so sorry for these people that didn’t get to have a Christmas.
“The next morning, my girlfriend and I got up and we got in her car, we loaded it with all this stuff, we were both completely hung over and we drove into this place that — I’d never been to a place like that before. It was literally, when we got to the house, it was like a shanty, a shack. And suddenly I just felt shame, Tim. I was like, “Oh, my God. I don’t know who these kids are. I don’t know what kind of things they like. I don’t know if the parents want the kids to know that somebody else is bringing them Christmas and this is all wrong.” And literally, I said to Suzanne, my friend, I was like, “Just keep the car running,” and grabbed the stuff, I ran it, I threw it on the porch. I ran back to the car and I was like, “Just go.”
“And I think in a way it was the beginning of my moral imagination, that act was an act of empathy. It was well-intended, and I hope that they had a really lovely Christmas. But the moral imagination would have said, “Look, am I willing to do the work of actually understanding who these people are at the very least and building from there? If I’m not, find an organization that does. Even better ask the questions around what got them there in the first place, and where can I be spending my time and my energy and my capital to solve that problem?” And I’m not saying we shouldn’t give charity, I think there’s a real role for moving from that place of empathy, and from that just place of unbridled love in a moment. Our job right now, when the pandemic and everything that’s happened in the world has broken our systems open, is to think bigger than that, and to hold ourselves to account at a systemic level, and that’s what my obsession is.”