It's not empathy they lack. It's love.
Nov. 8th, 2018 07:47 amOne of the recurring themes in progressive politics today is the question of empathy, and the constant asking, "If the GOP is allied with The Christian religion, as is often claimed, why doesn't the GOP have any empathy toward the suffering?"
In an article weirdly titled "Election results in Georgia and Florida prompt soul-searching for African Americans," the reporter quotes a white woman who didn't like Trump's "tone" and wanted to send a message, but ultimately voted for the white Republican over the black Democrat:
This in an example of empathy. This woman suddenly saw her black peers having feelings, being able to express themselves. She saw that they could, in fact, be more than just useful people-shaped devices that did things white people normally wouldn't be bothered to do.
Fred Clark has a wonderful post, "When we flinch at empathy, it curdles into fear and resentment," and the little anecdote shows exactly that. Suddenly forced to think about black people as human beings, suddenly putting them into her world as people with agency, she empathized with their plight just enough to be afraid of what they would do if they were in her place.
The difference between "nice" and "kind" is straightforward: "kindness" has a cost, in time, in energy, in emotion, and even in cash. "Niceness" doesn't. "Niceness" is what you pull out to put on a neutral face in order to navigate the world without having to endure a cost. "Kindness" is when you take an active role in making someone else's life a little better, even for a moment.
I'm sure Mrs. Cooper is a nice woman. When the time came to be kind, however, she realized that, had she been in the shoes of the black men and women of Florida, she'd have enjoyed the power and privilege of the governorship, she wouldn't have been forgiving or merciful. She had plenty of empathy, but it's not her reserve of empathy that failed her. It was her reserve of love.
In an article weirdly titled "Election results in Georgia and Florida prompt soul-searching for African Americans," the reporter quotes a white woman who didn't like Trump's "tone" and wanted to send a message, but ultimately voted for the white Republican over the black Democrat:
But she ended up voting for DeSantis, partially because she wanted to see an end to racial divisions. In Cooper’s eyes, tensions between races in Madison only worsened after Obama’s election in 2008. Black neighbors just started seeing everything differently, she said. They seemed consumed with Obama as the first black president and less concerned about how he was affecting the economy in Florida.
“That trickled down to everything,” Cooper said. “Now everyone is so worried about the other race.” She said she felt that a vote for Gillum, who had accused DeSantis of using a racist slur after he warned Florida voters on TV not to “monkey up” the state, would worsen those tensions
This in an example of empathy. This woman suddenly saw her black peers having feelings, being able to express themselves. She saw that they could, in fact, be more than just useful people-shaped devices that did things white people normally wouldn't be bothered to do.
Fred Clark has a wonderful post, "When we flinch at empathy, it curdles into fear and resentment," and the little anecdote shows exactly that. Suddenly forced to think about black people as human beings, suddenly putting them into her world as people with agency, she empathized with their plight just enough to be afraid of what they would do if they were in her place.
The difference between "nice" and "kind" is straightforward: "kindness" has a cost, in time, in energy, in emotion, and even in cash. "Niceness" doesn't. "Niceness" is what you pull out to put on a neutral face in order to navigate the world without having to endure a cost. "Kindness" is when you take an active role in making someone else's life a little better, even for a moment.
I'm sure Mrs. Cooper is a nice woman. When the time came to be kind, however, she realized that, had she been in the shoes of the black men and women of Florida, she'd have enjoyed the power and privilege of the governorship, she wouldn't have been forgiving or merciful. She had plenty of empathy, but it's not her reserve of empathy that failed her. It was her reserve of love.