There are multiple kinds of empathy.

Cognitive empathy, the kind that motivates someone to attempt to understand how someone else feels; emotional empathy, the kind that allows someone to share those feelings; and compassionate empathy, the kind we act on to assist someone.

American society is filled with a form compassionate empathy, which may sound good, but the issue is that it’s not the form that values the first two. It’s more of a narrow, short term compassionate empathy.

A film that exemplifies this, and initially received mainstream critical acclaim in 2008, is Gran Torino.

(Spoilers ahead). 

In the film, Clint Eastwood, who plays a Vietnam war veteran, draws out a gang, which is harassing a Hmong teenager, to open fire on him, leaving him dead. Sounds like your classic Americana act of valor we are so accustomed to seeing in films.

He committed this act to show the neighborhood how dangerous this gang is, in such a public display, that the Hmong residents could no longer turn their heads at this gang’s activities out of fear and get them reported to police. In essence saving the boy he grew fond of.

What was not done, however, was a true attempt to see his Hmong neighbors as equals and stop calling them slurs. He took interest in this one teen (essentially considering him a “good one”) and his family, whom he was still quite racist towards, and decided to protect them sacrificing his life.

Death was more understandable to him than to attempt to truly understand them. 

The film has since been under scrutiny over recent years because of the normalization of the offensive language it uses towards Hmong, Vietnamese, and Asian communities. 

This creates an incredible dichotomy for many Americans. How can we call someone racist who sacrificed his life for someone of that race? The issue so many Americans have is a logical conflation of racism and this narrow, short term compassion.

The ‘good Samaritan’ who saves the woman crying for help from a burning car can then vote against her receiving health care.

And the same police officer who takes a bullet to save someone’s life in the line of duty can unjustly use one to end someone else’s because of there internal biases.

These are the two thoughts that, as a nation, we seem simply unable to hold.

We see this argument all the time when “black on black” crime is brought up as an example of why we need more police in communities. Some police claim they care, and, in some cases, actually have saved the lives of black children from gang violence. But protecting black children, suddenly becomes less of a priority when person killing them isn’t a gang member, but members of law enforcement or wannabe cops, who are killing unarmed black children throughout the country in a clear pattern. Because then it becomes systemic problem—something that requires an introspective look at our entire law enforcement institutions. And that’s simply too much empathic labor for those preoccupied with un-stealing an election and “taking back” their country. Badge or not.

Thus, a significant slice of the population will hear all this and at best see “bad apples.”

Americans rush to help a person on the side of the road, but then vote against their family finding sanctuary on this side of the border. They will say they’ll do anything to save their children, but not understand why a black or brown person would do the same. 

This lack of internal understanding of empathy makes a large portion of our population not understand, be willfully ignorant, or simply not care for, the concepts of ‘macro’ and ‘micro.’ 

Now, many Americans understand the term micro and macro economics, as we have endless energy for our capitalism, but that logic is suspended when applied to tenets of humanity.

And all this dearth of empathy brings us to ‘privledge.’

Many white people don’t see white privilege because if their life involves poverty and strife then there must be no privileges in being white. Thus, the common retort “well where’s my white privlege?!” This demographic can’t see that white privilege doesn’t mean their life did not involve extreme hardship; it means their complexion never made their life harder. Because they cannot see past their own life. Or their own lived experience and exposure — E.g. “I have a black friend;” “look how rich Lebron is”, “more black people are getting educated in universities and hired; this must be affirmative action,” “but there’s gangs in Chicago,” etc., to name a few greatest hits. 

To believe that black Americans continue to be victims of systemic injustice is to see and seek on a macro scale beyond your micro life. To expand your walls of empathy. If your entire vision is composed of your immediate, your daily, the stories of your father and your neighbor—why would you feel the need to seek any other narrative, any other history?

However, one may have a black spouse, defend her against people like them, and claim they’re not a racist. 

The same suspension of logic comes up frequently re: men and sexism. Man has bad experience with woman; ergo, gender equality not a priority.

“I can live with 70 cents on the dollar because I got curved.”

Men’s voice and level of commitment to gender equality, which is extremely powerful given men are mostly in charge here—an ENTIRE CAUSE—frequently comes down to their personal experience with women and things they were told growing up. 

The laws of today are dependent on men who say “in my day.” 

The tide of public opinion sways with dudes who Venmo their dates for their money back.

I refrain the term ‘suspension’ for a reason. Because, for most of us, this is not a capacity issue. We have the capacity for all forms of empathy. We have the capacity to think in these terms. We have the capacity to do research. I see it every day when someone analyzes market trends; when someone does research on which car to buy or new software; when we decide who counts as “American.” (The term itself represents still a limited perspective, since there are other countries in the Americas). 

It is a choice to not apply the same logic one is capable of using in one situation to another. To a topic that may ultimately change your worldview and force you to consider someone else and another group’s plight. And every time we have selective empathy, we must be reminded of the choices we make.

Because if you’re going to do that, the least you can do is own it. Own your choice to not apply humanity to another human’s struggle.

For the only way to begin treatment of this epidemic, is for enough Americans to realize that they can’t truly own their hate. That they want to live, to continue to exist, in a nation that challenges them to learn—for the worthy sake of that humanity.

That’s the challenge our country deserves—if we’re truly the home of the brave.