Archives for category: Philosophy

In order to disprove empathy, first it would be a pretty good idea to define what it is that I’m disproving. Since the internet is basically my dictionary now, I googled the term and it seems that empathy is: the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. That sounds pretty nice, right? Well, nice things tend to be bullshit.

So. Empathy.

How would one begin to empathize? Well normally an empathizer requires a subject towards whom he would be empathetic, and would likely foster that empathy by communicating with this subject. The most common way to communicate between human beings is through language, and that is the probable route that our empathizer would take. Just to be clear, I’m pretty sure empathizer is not a word, and I plan on using that fact to allude to my upcoming point. Language is a flawed concept. We can only understand things based on our vocabulary, and if we don’t have a word for something, there’s no way we can comprehend it. Part of the reason that cultures differ is because they have different vocabularies, and therefore different ways of explaining how the world works, which in turn leads to differing world views. So incredibly complex and abstract concepts like emotions and feelings being pinned down using such cumbersome tools as words seems unlikely.

This is on top of our subjective understanding of language. My understanding of the word ‘fear’, for example, would be based on my personal experiences with ‘fear’ as I interpret the expression. My experiences would be entirely different from another’s, and therefore how we define the word would be subjective, and thus even more difficult to communicate effectively.

But let’s say that somehow our victim is a cleverly verbose poet, who is able to perfectly communicate his emotions to our quixotic empathizer. Our victim’s father has died from incurable form of butt cancer, and after hearing such a tragic tale, our empathizer is moved to tears, and feels as though the emotions are truly being shared. HOWEVER, if our empathizer, after hearing our victim’s story, can go home and hug his own, living, father, there is no possible way that he truly understands what our victim is going through. Not having shared the same experience, the empathizer cannot know what it is like to lose a father if he himself has not suffered the same tragedy. In fact, I would go so far as to call it insulting if someone were to claim they knew how it felt if they had never gone through a similar experience.

But now, let’s kill our empathizer’s father. I can do this, because this is just a story to illustrate a point, and I can kill off any character that I choose. So, our empathizer’s father is dead now too. Hell, let’s say he even died from a bad case of the butt cancers. Our empathizer has now suffered through the same exact tragedy as our victim, and feels as though there is a mutual understanding between the two of them. But what if our victim and his father weren’t all that close? Ol’ Daddy took off when Victim was just a wee boy, and sure he wrote letters, but there was never any real paternal connection. Now dad is dead, and yeah, Victim is kinda sad, but really his eyes only welled up a bit and that was it. He didn’t even need a tissue. On the other hand, Empathizer and his dad were close. They played catch every weekend when Empathizer was growing up; they took fishing trips together during the summer; their relationship was basically a Brad Paisley song. I don’t think anyone would reasonably presume that the mutual experience of a father dying of butt cancer affected these two individuals in a similar enough fashion that one would truly understand what the other was going through.

Everyone lives a different life, and lives different experiences. These experiences shape not only how we see the world, but how we feel things as well. Because of this subjectivity, and our inability to invade someone else’s consciousness, I don’t believe empathy is a real thing.

What is empathy, then? When people tell us that their dad died, most people feel sad. Something happens. So, what the hell is going on?

I believe what happens is that people take the experience of the other, and imagine it happening in their own lives. Our empathizer would listen to the victim’s story, and would imagine what life would be like without his own father. This would cause the empathizer to feel the assumed connection with the victim, even if there is no true understanding. Or if the empathizer wasn’t close with his father, then he would use his learned understanding that people on occasion are close with their fathers, and would go from there. We rely on our own experiences to connect with other human beings.

But what if there is no experience that our empathizer has in his repertoire to fall back on? For instance, say our empathizer is a solid Bro, and our victim is a girl who was sexually harassed at work. Our empathizer has no experience with feminist theory, nor has he had any sort of meaningful conversation with a woman ever. He would, upon hearing our new victim’s story, imagine the sexual harassment in his own life, and probably would assume that to have some lady fondle his junk would honestly be pretty sweet. Thus he wouldn’t be able to understand where Victim #2 is coming from at all, and would more than likely assume that she was exaggerating the issue.

I believe that our natural ability to “empathize” creates more problems than it solves. Religious hostilities, sexist policies, cultural divides… you name it, and it’s probably because someone can’t comprehend what another person is feeling, and is using their “empathetic” ability to justify why making these choices isn’t that big of a deal. In Canada, our assimilationist policies regarding Aboriginals were based on our desires to civilize their people; European settlers would see the non-Christian lifestyle, and would try to “better” the lives of these savages, because the Europeans would want someone to do that for them if they were stuck in such a barbaric situation.

Since I’m not a heartless monster, I will offer up a solution to counter-act the destructive nature of empathy. Here it is: listen. Come at any problem under the assumption that you have no idea what the other person is going through, but with the understanding that they do. Then use real emotions like compassion and respect, and listen to what the other person has to say. Learn from them, and trust them to know what they are talking about.

Seriously, how hard is it to not be a dick?

We live in a world where everyone wants to label everything. Far from it for us to admit to shades of grey, things all have to be black or white. A thing is either this, or it is that. At best we can concede that this has a bit of that tendencies, but for the most part, when we define something, we have a pretty good notion that the words in the English language do a suitable enough job of defining what it is we’re looking at, and we stick to them.

To define, from the Latin, literally means to limit something. When you start to assign attributes to things, you’re saying that this can’t be that, it can only be this. When you say grass is green, you’re saying that grass cannot be blue, or red, or black, etc. But some grass is yellow, and if you spill paint on it, that grass could have a tasteful, subtle off-white colouring. So you could say some grass is green, some grass is yellow, and some grass is soft eggshell white. There are few enough strains of grass and paint colours that to define the colour of grass isn’t that strenuous.

However, when you get to people, to define becomes impossible. There are far too many of us, with all of our own individual quirks that make each and every one of us unique. And that’s just those of us alive now. Think of the billions that have already died, and the trillions yet to be born.

Even to bring it down to one person is impossible. Jean-Paul Sartre describes the human condition as two fold: one part set and finite (the sum of our experiences) and the infinite potential we have in front of us. As a free creature capable of doing pretty close to anything humanly possible, to set a limit on our infinite freedom is (as Sartre would call it) living in bad faith. If you claim to be, say, a good waiter, and then live your life as a good waiter, serving people their water before even they themselves know they want it, sure you’re a good waiter, but you’re denying yourself your freedom of being anything beyond a good waiter. You’re not a good waiter; you’re not any label, because you can be anything.

This would apply to every aspect of yourself you might be defined as: happy person, sad person, funny person, handsome, ugly, straight, gay…

So why do we label people when it is impossible to do so accurately?

Because we have to. Our brain works by understanding labels. We think in definable concepts, not impossible to nail down abstract ones. If someone asks you about yourself, and you say, “oh, I don’t believe in labels” what you are telling this person is that the grass isn’t green, nor is it yellow or blue; the grass is a colour that doesn’t exist. In your mind, try to imagine a colour that doesn’t exist. You may give up after you get to the sort of murky brown one.

So pick something. Anything. If you want the grass to be fuchsia, that’s perfectly fine. If you can find a way to explain the history of how that grass became fuchsia, and what that means to the world around it, then you can be relatable instead of alienating. If you’re trying to explain to someone about something they have never heard of before, remember that it’s not their fault that it’s difficult, they’re just trying to imagine a colour they’ve never come across.

In honour of this new year that is upon us, I’m going to share two of the greatest pieces of advice I have ever received. This isn’t life altering stuff that will make you all zen or whatever, but it’s still good advice. So listen up.

The first bit was given to me by my late grandfather. For unnecessary context, my grandfather founded his own business, and was married to my grandmother for like a billion years or however long. A while, anyway. I lived with them while I was going to a school near-ish to their home. One time, when I was going out one night, my grandfather said to me, “Dan,” he said, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, were I capable of doing it.” He was 80-something at the time, so if he hadn’t added in that final caveat, he would have limited me considerably. But I think that was the point of the advice he was trying to give, which was do things, any things, while you’re still young enough and capable enough to do them. You might get old, you might get sick, or injured, or dead, and then all the opportunities for doing will be gone. So I think the “don’t” part of his little maxim there was facetious, and he was trying to get me to live my life.

The next bit of advice that has stuck with me was given to me by a wise old prostitute. This is a woman who has experienced life in ways unfathomable to most people. To those wondering, no, I didn’t pay for this advice nor any pre or post-advice delights. Anyway, this wise old prostitute said to me, “Dan,” she said, “always bring two condoms.” Now this might just seem like basic, practical advice, but I believe it can be generalized to apply to other, non-sexual life events. Don’t let trivial things get in the way of having an amazing time. I mean bringing two condoms is showing a little forethought, which is always smart too, but I prefer to think of this advice in terms of if something has gone wrong, and there is a simple thing like not having a condom stopping you from an otherwise orgasmic time, then don’t get hung up on it. The first condom malfunctioned, so what? Persevere. There are always 24 hour drug stores.