empathy

An uplifting moment

Vancouver hosted the largest convention in the city’s history over the weekend. About 50,000 members of Alcoholics Anonymous descended on the convention centre and BC Place stadium. Among the throngs was a booth representing Jewish Addiction Community Services – JACS Vancouver.

Rabbi Joshua Corber, the organization’s recently appointed director of addictions and mental health services, wanted the group to have a presence at the massive international confab. The booth shared information about JACS’s work, as well as literature from partner agencies in other cities.

For Elana Epstein, who attended the booth and greeted passersby, the experience was transformative – but not for the reasons she expected.

Epstein and her family have shared their journey with addiction and recovery openly, including in these pages (jewishindependent.ca/family-hopes-to-save-lives). She and husband David Bogdonov and their son Noah Bogdonov have become some of the most familiar faces in this community speaking about and advocating for awareness around addiction and recovery.

At a public event at King David High School last fall, the family shared the path they have been on since Noah began his recovery journey two years ago. The entire family has become engaged with this cause. Noah and Elana have both become professionals in the field – Noah recently moved to Calgary to launch a new recovery centre and Elana was credentialized and recently hired to lead JACS’s new family group, which began earlier this week.

But it was not recovery – or, at least, not recovery in the sense she anticipated – that uplifted her at the AA convention. It was the outpouring of empathy and words of encouragement she received from passersby to her as a Jew, and to the Jewish community more broadly.

A steady stream of people dropped by to peruse the information at the booth, but Epstein was deeply moved by the number who just expressed a few words of support for the situation Jewish people find themselves facing in today’s world.

This sort of acknowledgement is something that has been glaringly absent among her non-Jewish circles in Vancouver, she said.

“I personally needed it,” she said. “I haven’t felt that kind of outreach since the war started.” In one of her local circles, her experience has been quite the opposite.

Since Oct. 7, 2023, at the latest, most Jews have probably, consciously or unconsciously, at different times and in different spheres, become aware of dangers and vulnerabilities when we identify ourselves in public. Any reservations Epstein had quickly evaporated, leaving her “completely surprised.”

“Tears,” she said of her response. “Overwhelming gratitude. I really didn’t expect this and it is a beautiful thing. A really beautiful, heartfelt thing.”

There were other surprises – a lot of non-Jews subscribed to stereotypes that addiction did not exist in the Jewish community. For Epstein, though, it was the few words from a stream of strangers that raised her spirits.

Why did it take strangers from other cities to say the words she needed to hear? Maybe it is easier to speak with people you don’t know. By putting herself out there as a visible Jew in a primarily non-Jewish environment, she attracted the goodwill of people who wanted to share expressions of kindness. Are people who deal in addiction and recovery more sensitive to the pain of others? Is there some other explanation?

We would like to imagine this was an indication that the world is kinder than some recent evidence would suggest.

For one thing, there is a simple phenomenon: haters are loud. The chanters who march through the streets condemning Israel (and often Jews) are few but extremely vocal. Their stickers, spray-paint and graffiti might suggest numbers greater than they represent.

Empathy is quiet. Seeing a Jewish individual standing invitingly at a booth presents an opportunity for a few quiet words that maybe some people have been waiting to express.

It may be rare enough that it bears highlighting. It is still, though, a reminder that compassion abounds, often in places we least expect it. This is a small example – and just one – that modest acts of kindness have profound ripples.

As we enjoy the full bloom of summer, with its (hopefully) bright days and reinvigorating outdoor activities, we thought it was worth sharing that the world can be a more welcoming place than it sometimes seems.

We naturally share with friends our moments of disappointment and distress, seeking commiseration when the world lets us down. Remember also to share your moments of uplift, as this one individual chose to do. We need them.

The importance of empathy

Dr. Terri Elizabeth Givens, professor of political science at the University of British Columbia, started her lecture with a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.: “It takes empathy, patience and compassion to overcome anger, hatred and resentment.”

“And this really rings true during these times,” said Givens, who was giving the keynote address at Vancouver School of Theology’s May 27-29 conference called Compassion: Mutual Care in Troubled Times. “As an American, in particular, I’m very concerned about the situation. I really think it’s hard during times like this to have empathy and patience and compassion.”

Rabbi Laura Duhan-Kaplan, director of inter-religious studies at VST, introduced Givens, who spoke on May 27, giving the |opening lecture of VST’s annual inter-religious studies conference. Givens is the author of several books, including Radical Empathy: Finding a Path to Bridging Racial Divides. Her next book, Reckoning: Creating Positive Change Through Radical Empathy, will be released in October. She has written on immigration policy, European politics, right-wing politics and more.

Dr. Terri Elizabeth Givens gave the keynote lecture for the Vancouver School of Theology’s May 27-29 conference Compassion: Mutual Care in Troubled Times. (photo from terrigivens.com)

Givens grew up in Spokane, Wash., did her undergrad at Stanford University and PhD at the University of California, Los Angeles. Her first job was at University of Washington, in Seattle, then she and her husband moved to Austin, where their careers took off. Before UBC, Givens worked at McGill University, first as a lead and advisor on the university’s plan to address anti-Black racism, then as an associate dean.

She started studying the radical right in Europe in the mid-1990s, having first become aware of their existence in 1986, when she visited France as an undergrad. At that time, Jean-Marie Le Pen was on the rise.

“I was one of the first Americans to even pay attention to this topic,” said Givens, who added that all her research is “really about how do we create change – that’s the underlying push for all of this.”

The professor shared some of her personal history, how she was raised, her father’s death in 2001, instances of racism experienced by her parents – her mother, who grew up in rural Louisiana in the 1930s, and her dad, who was born in 1928 near Pittsburgh. Her parents met in Los Angeles but chose to live in Spokane because they thought it would be safer for their kids.

“I think, in telling my story, I’m trying to talk about the different identities we have,” she said. For example, she is a mom, a teacher, an athlete, and more.

For Givens, integrity also has multiple variations. There’s physical integrity, taking care of ourselves. There’s integrity in terms of being honest and straightforward. And there’s integrity in terms of having a solid foundation.

Identity and integrity come into play with radical empathy, which comprises, according to Givens, six steps: a willingness to be vulnerable, becoming grounded in who you are, opening yourself to the experiences of others, practising empathy, taking action, and creating change and building trust.

About the first step, she said, “It’s not about being vulnerable with others, it’s about being vulnerable with yourself…. We have a really hard time [with that] – even just giving ourself a pat on the back is hard…. But the reason that’s so important is … you need to become grounded in who you are, and that’s an ongoing process.”

Taking care of yourself and being grounded in yourself allows you to be open to others, she said.

Radical empathy is circular, said Givens. “It’s a constant movement towards becoming who you want to be. You want to have goals for yourself that reach beyond where you are now, but also you want to have a process to get there.”

We can tap into our integrity, she said, by telling our story, where we fit in family, community, education, health, love and marriage, relationships, and work.

“Empathy is not absolution,” she said. “It doesn’t mean I have to say everything is OK…. Sometimes, people do things that I don’t believe are good for anybody. And so, that’s an important component and, for me, it helps me tap into my integrity because I have to create those boundaries and make sure that I understand where I fit into this broader picture and in the community.”

As she ages, the health aspect is something she is dealing with more. “My dad had a heart attack at 72, my mom had a stroke at 75. Why those things happen, how to understand that, is a big part of our ability to function.”

With respect to love and marriage, she said, “When people ask me what’s important in the relationship, it’s, well, you want to be with somebody who makes you a better person. And that it’s reciprocal.”

This is something that applies to relationships in general, she added.

“Work is a huge part of our lives. I think sometimes we forget how important it is to make sure that our work is something that, regardless of what you do, you take pride in it. It may be something that you don’t want to be doing forever but, where you are right now, it’s important that your work is a part of your story.”

We can’t change the past, but we can change how we go forward, Givens said. “There are these lifelong self-reflection processes that help us learn from the people around us, whether they’re clients or colleagues or friends, and cultural humility is being willing to say I don’t know everything.”

She said, “Too many leaders are full of themselves. It’s good to be modest about your capabilities. And here’s where vulnerability comes in. You have to be willing to admit mistakes. And I really believe that, if you have integrity, that’s not so difficult, to admit mistakes – it’s like, I’m a human being, I’m not perfect, and [having an] awareness of bias…. We know that the system is set up often in a biased way and we talk about meritocracy but what does that mean? It’s not just that you hire people who look like you or are really similar to you – it’s being willing to look beyond that and say, no, this person is the best person for the job even though we don’t have a whole lot in common.”

Givens spoke about having a curiosity about others, having an open mindset, listening without judgment and seeking, with empathy, to understand people. “And then, cultural intelligence is being attentive to other cultures and to adapt as required.”

In the question-and-answer period, Duhan-Kaplan asked about mistakes made by our ancestors, and how we deal with them. She also asked about dealing with the expectations “placed on us in a charged environment – we might open social media for some entertainment and then what we get is, whatever perspective we have, people are ridiculing it and calling us names,” said Duhan-Kaplan. “Cultural humility – once you start to get defensive about yourself and your identity, how do you keep being open to changing?”

“I still struggle with that,” said Givens.

“As a person who’s been racialized, who has ancestors who were enslaved, and yet I have ancestors who were killing Indigenous and pushing Indigenous out of their homelands,” she explained, “one of the things I’m coming to is that we’re a sum of all of this – and all of us are…. And, again, it comes back to acceptance. I have to accept the fact that, if I look in my family history, there are these evil people and there are some really good people.”

History is ugly, she concluded. “I think it’s better to know it and understand it and be willing to say, but I’m here to be better.”

For Givens, the opposite of empathy is apathy because apathy allows us to feel badly about what’s happening but then just throw up our hands and say, “the world is crazy, you can’t do anything.” Her books highlight ways that people can get involved, what they can do, and she incorporates taking action into everything she does, she said.

Ultimately, it’s the actions, the outcomes, and the way we are engaging with the world that is important, said Givens.

Vancouver School of Theology is offering Summer School courses that will be of particular interest to Jewish community members: Rabbi Or Rose teaches Mystics in Modernity, Rabbi David Seidenberg’s class is Kabbalistic Hints in Tanakh, and Rabbi Laura Duhan-Kaplan presents Zechariah: Spiritual Activism for Difficult Times. Classes run July 21-25 at VST or online. Register at vst.edu/vst-summer-school.

Nuance is vital path to empathy

On the morning of Oct. 7, 2023, I was in Vancouver, celebrating the holiday of Simchat Torah with my family. We woke up, my father went to synagogue, and I lay on the couch sipping coffee and reading a book. Four hours later, I was sitting on the couch of the Mizrachi family. Ben Mizrachi z”l was one of my brother’s closest childhood friends, a pillar of joy in our community, and an attendee of the Nova Music Festival in Israel on Friday evening. I watched for two days in helpless disbelief as his parents waited to hear whether their son was alive. On the third day, his body was identified.

By Oct. 9, I had already unfollowed one of my friends on Instagram. By Oct. 19, the number had become too many to count. I opened my friends’ Instagram stories with a pit of dread in my stomach, wishing I could stop looking, but feeling compelled to know where they stood. Ignorance may be bliss, but knowledge is safety. I watched, feeling resentful and hopeless as friends with no lived experience in this conflict posted comparisons between the Israeli government and Nazi Germany, tokenized anti-Zionist Jewish voices, spread demonizing misinformation, labeled Israelis “European settler-colonialists” and justified sexual violence in the name of “resistance” and “liberation.”

Humans crave consistency. We naturally gravitate towards narratives with a clear villain and an undeniable victim. Research on cognitive dissonance theory has demonstrated that we experience intense psychological discomfort when faced with information that conflicts with a preconceived belief. In response, we can either change the preconceived belief, which requires us to admit we were previously wrong, or we can discount and discredit the new information to protect our self-image. The dominant narrative in liberal North American circles has become that Jews and Israelis are colonizers in a land stolen from Palestinians. In accordance with cognitive dissonance theory, if Jews and Israelis are oppressors, we cannot also be victims. So, we must not be victims, after all. This narrative feeds into classic stereotypes about Jews as powerful, wealthy, manipulative and, in modern parlance, privileged.

Prejudice and discrimination have psychological benefits. Research shows that the act of derogating a member of a stereotyped group has positive implications for self-esteem. One foundational study by Fein and Spencer (1997) found discriminating against a woman who fit the stereotype of a “Jewish American Princess” dramatically improved participants’ self-esteem after receiving negative feedback. In other words, putting others down makes us feel better. Many in my social circles would balk at the mere thought of discriminating against a marginalized group. Yet, if you can convince yourself that a marginalized group is privileged, you can reap the self-esteem benefits of derogation without suffering cognitive dissonance. If Jews are oppressors and not victims, then discrimination is not only warranted, it feels good.

In the study conducted by Fein and Spencer in 1997, research participants enacted their discrimination in private, by degrading the Jewish subject’s personality and job qualifications. Today, we can perform our discrimination publicly through social media. Public discrimination maintains the self-esteem benefits of private discrimination, with the bonus of entrenching belonging within a social in-group. Humans have a fundamental need to belong. We fulfil this need by affiliating ourselves with social in-groups based on race, ethnicity, disability, music preference and TV-show character fandoms. Posting socio-political stances on social media is not simply about sharing information, it is a means of signalling affiliation with a valued in-group of social justice advocates. The opportunity to simultaneously derive a self-esteem boost from the derogation of Jews is a heady combination.

Despite our pursuit of certainty in the face of cognitive dissonance, certainty is the enemy of knowledge, nuance and, in the context of the Israel-Hamas war and other conflicts or social divisions, empathy. Research in social psychology has shown that the more certain we feel about our socio-political opinions, the less likely we are to seek out information that might challenge our beliefs. Those who feel certain in their characterization of the current Israel-Hamas war as morally unambiguous cannot cave to nuance, lest their psychological well-being suffer. Yet, the embrace of two opposing truths is at the core of seeing each other as human, capable of being both villain and victim in the same breath. Sitting with cognitive dissonance is painful, but it is the only path to true empathy.

Shira Mattuck, MA, is a clinical child psychology doctoral student in the Genetics and Neurobehavioural Systems: Interdisciplinary Studies (GENESIS) Lab at the University of Houston. She was born and raised in Vancouver and is a graduate of Vancouver Hebrew Academy and York House School.

People are not bricks in a wall

Shabbat, Nov. 2
Noach, Genesis 6:9-11:32
Haftarah, Isaiah 54:1-55:5

W.C. Fields said, “Never work with animals or children, [they steal the spotlight].” Though no one ever accused him of being a Torah scholar, his insight was certainly applicable to last week’s Torah portion.

Parashat Noach, the second portion in the Book of Genesis (and my bar mitzvah portion) is perhaps the most universally known and, at least by children, most adored portion in the entire Torah. This is in part, no doubt, because it has not one animal, but all animals – and they come in pairs! So beloved and recognizable is this Torah portion that we tend to forget that there is more to it than the animals coming on the ark, two by two, the dove sent to find dry land, the rainbow, and our ancient ship builder, Noah. Tucked in at the end of the portion that bears his name is a small, poignant story about how the people (Noah’s descendants) focused their energies after the waters and fear receded, and they were once again on dry land.

We are told: “All the earth had the same language and the same words … they came upon a valley in the land of Shinar and settled there…. Then they said, ‘Come, let us build a city with a tower that reaches the sky, so that we can make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over all the earth!’” (Genesis 11:1-:4)

A midrash explains: “Many, many years passed in building the tower. It reached so great a height that it took a year to mount to the top. A brick was, therefore, more precious in the sight of the builders than a human being. If a man fell down and met his death, none took notice of it: but, if a brick dropped, they wept, because it would take a year to replace it. So intent were they upon accomplishing their purpose that they would not permit a pregnant woman to interrupt herself in her work of brick-making when she went into labour. Molding bricks, she gave birth to her child and, tying it round her body in a sheet, she went on molding bricks.” (“Yashar Noah,” in Louis Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews, 1909)

How do you measure your day? I once asked my friend who is a bricklayer this question, and he explained that the universal standard for a good day of bricklaying is 1,000 bricks day. It got me thinking, what would my 1,000-brick-day look like? What is my universal standard for a successful day?

As a parent, I could say it’s getting all the kids washed, fed, off to school and then to soccer or hockey, and back home again. Then it’s getting them to do their homework, brush their teeth and get to bed at a reasonable hour.

As a working adult, I could say it’s getting to work on time and responding to all my emails and messages – the modern-day equivalent of bricks. Then it’s meeting with constituents, handling synagogue programs and business, and getting home in time for dinner with my family.

What makes those days good days is not the quantity of work I do or the number of interactions I have, it’s the quality. The bricklayer, if reasonably competent at his task, can be irritable, antisocial, half asleep and day dreaming as he lays each brick. He can take his anger out on the bricks; he can curse at the bricks as he shleps them up the wall. He can listen to music, talk on his cellphone; it doesn’t matter. As long as the wall is solid at the end of his day and it contains 1,000 new bricks, it’s a good day of bricklaying.

But people are not bricks: we can’t take out our anger on people without consequence. We can’t ignore them or tune them out if the purpose of our day is to interact with them with care, compassion and attention. The great sin of the Tower of Babel’s builders was that they treated people like bricks and bricks like people. They wasted the one thing that set them apart from machines, which, had they existed in ancient times, could have helped build the Tower even better – they neglected their own humanity. When the bricks of our life become more important than the people in it, we, too, build a tower that is an affront to the purpose of our creation.

The midrash continues that, after God confounded the people’s language and scattered the people throughout the globe, the tower

remained: “a part sank into the earth and another part was consumed by fire; only one-third of it remained standing. The place of the tower has never lost its peculiar quality. Whoever passes it forgets all he knows.” (ibid., Ginzberg)

When we treat people like bricks, we forget what we know about ourselves and about others. We forget that the measure of our day is not how many bricks we lay, how many emails we answer, how many lunches we pack, how many children we shlep: the measure of our day is whether each person we touch, including ourselves, feels valued as a person, a blessing and a gift from God in our lives – not a brick.

Rabbi Dan Moskovitz is senior rabbi at Temple Sholom and author of The Men’s Seder (MRJ Publishing). He is also chair of the Reform Rabbis of Canada. His writing and perspective on Judaism appear in major print and digital media internationally. This article originally appeared on reformjudaism.org.

We are hardwired to be kind

Dr. Brian Goldman is an emergency physician at Toronto’s Mount Sinai Hospital. (photo by Christopher Wahl)

According to Dr. Brian Goldman, author of The Power of Kindness: Why Empathy is Essential in Everyday Life (HarperCollins Publishers, 2018), we all have the innate ability to be kind, gentle and to give of ourselves without the need to get anything in return.

Goldman, who works as an emergency physician at Mount Sinai Hospital in Toronto, said the idea for The Power of Kindness had been germinating in his mind for a long time.

“I had originally pitched a book on empathy and health care,” he said, “and my publisher, HarperCollins, came back to me and asked why I don’t instead aim a little broader and write a book about empathy in the world at large, not focus just on the hospital.”

About the concept, he said, “The wise physician knows how to say, ‘I don’t know.’ The book doesn’t say how it feels to say ‘I don’t know’ 17 times in a row. At some point, you’re terrified that they’re going to say, ‘Why don’t you get us someone here right now who can answer our questions?’ And you’re afraid of being unmasked as being inadequate.”

In recognizing this in himself, Goldman decided to travel the world to speak to some of the kindest people to hopefully internalize their kindness and find ways to pass their enlightenment onto others. In doing this, he said, “I found answers and, for the rest, you’re going to have to read the book. But, I will tell you one thing. I found that some people are born with empathy.

“I found one extraordinary child,” he said, by way of example, “who was nicknamed ‘Ta Ta.’ And he, at the time that I met him, was [almost] 3 years old. His mom, Shala, adopted a man on the streets of Sao Paulo who had been homeless for nearly 40 years and called him her soulmate. The striking thing about her situation is that her son, as a toddler … without ever having known what his mom had done, adopted his own homeless man. You can’t make that up.

“At a time, whatever nurturing she provided had set the stage for him to be as empathic as her. But, he [also] feels things and understands things intuitively about Adriano, the man who he befriended in the same way that Shala did.”

Goldman met people for whom empathy comes naturally and some who are gifted in empathy, but he also realized that we all share the same common experiences – adversity, disappointment, shock, loneliness, physical ailments and failure.

“I think, more often than not, it’s these experiences that are the engine for empathy,” said Goldman. “Because, after that, you can either die or you can pay it forward. And the way you pay it forward is to provide comfort and empathy for people who are going through what you went through. That was probably the common denominator that I saw again and again.

“Shame-based people tend to absorb the idea that they cannot make a mistake. If they do, it will be the end of everything.

“My intuitive guess is that a lot of health professionals feel that way and that’s why they go into the health professions … because they are hoping that, if they can do enough good works, it will make up for the one mistake they made.

“I was very much like that. I wasn’t totally like that, because, if I were more like that, I’d be unaware of all the things I’m saying right now.”

According to Goldman, kindness and empathy are the ability to imagine what it is like to be somebody else, to see things through their eyes and act accordingly, to put yourself in their place.

“Unless you have a narcissistic personality disorder, in which your brain circuits will show you’re less capable of empathy, you’re capable of empathy,” said Goldman. “Everyone is hardwired for empathy. But, the thing is that, at the highest levels of executive function, empathy is a choice and we are constantly being distracted by competing priorities – my needs versus yours, my family versus your family. I’m running around like a pinball … boy, that’s a dated metaphor … but I can’t be all things to all people all the time. It’s impossible. Somebody is going to judge what I’ve delivered as unkind care.

“To become more kind in everyday life,” he said, “first of all, believe in your hardwiredness to be capable of being kind and empathic. Know that there are things that get in the way and they are very stereotypical – lack of face-to-face time, spending more time on social media, contacting people on social media, and less time on listening and face-to-face and being able to recognize cues that say that somebody’s more unhappy than their words are telling you.”

Goldman suggests learning which factors get in your way and to start creating ways that work for you to push those distractions aside. In The Power of Kindness, he talks about breathing exercises – about how we get distracted by unpleasant thoughts and feelings and how to re-centre ourselves and allow the negativity to float away.

“I use the metaphor of a parade,” he said. “There are beautiful floats and they represent nice thoughts – happy things that have happened or that I’m looking forward to – and you let them float by without judging them. Then, every once in awhile, there is a lousy float that’s ugly – the boss who is yelling at you, the coworker or somebody who you think is whispering about you behind your back, or the person who gave you the finger in traffic when you were both driving.

“The reason I like the float metaphor is that, with a lousy float, you let it go by – you imagine you’re in the stands, reviewing the floats as they go by. If it’s a parade, you let it go by, because there will be another nice one down the road in a couple of minutes.”

As for what sort of reception the book has garnered so far, Goldman said it has been very positive.

“Maybe the world is ready for a book like this because we’re all living at such a time when … people are going for kill shots on Twitter and there’s so much nastiness…. We’re watching, in the United States, kids being separated from their parents and put into cages. We need kindness.”

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Reacting to others’ suffering

Gun violence in America is an intractable, apparently unsolvable crisis. This month, it has intersected catastrophically with other tenacious American ailments: race and police violence. These issues have been inextricable in many ways for decades, of course, but the pervasiveness of video-recording and social media have helped turn what was once a matter of competing testimonies into irrefutable proof of police overreach, including murder.

The police killings of black civilians in Louisiana and Minnesota last week, followed by the revenge killing of five police officers in Texas, created a climate of crisis in the United States. Such times are, sometimes, opportunities for progress. The Civil Rights movement of the 1950s and ’60s was advanced by the widespread awareness among Americans of all races of injustices being perpetrated against black Americans. However, anything involving guns in America seems somehow impervious to reason.

Race is a unique flashpoint in American life and approaches to it have very often split directly along color lines. This may be changing, with more white Americans recognizing the injustices experienced by their fellow citizens of color. Like sexual orientation equality, issues of racial justice seem to be advancing because of a wider appreciation that transcends personal identity and relies on human empathy for those who are different from ourselves.

Still, Americans – and Canadians in somewhat different contexts, and all peoples – struggle to find balance and moral approaches to confounding issues. In response to the Black Lives Matter movement, a counter-campaign declares “All Lives Matter.” After the police killings in Dallas, “Blue Lives Matter” became a slogan. While the veracity of these statements cannot be refuted, they are nonetheless unhelpful and dismissive. Responding to Black Lives Matter with an appropriated variation is disrespectful. It is akin to the complaints by members of the majority when gay pride events occur and the question arises, “When do we celebrate straight pride day?” The answer, as empathetic people know, is that straight people (or white people) don’t need special days to celebrate their situation in society.

The insensitivity of such approaches has been slyly critiqued in social media recently, with one cartoon showing a house on fire while firefighters douse the house next door in water, declaring “All houses matter.” Similarly, a man in the doctor’s office with a broken arm is told, “All bones matter.”

The message should be clear: the perennial problems America has around race are particularly enflamed right now and attempting to dilute these through banal attempts to universalize what is a very particular problem effectively exacerbates the issue. Just last week in this space we noted that the specious way some people respond to any mention of the Holocaust is to note that Jews aren’t the only people to have suffered. Replying to the suffering of one group by an erroneous universalizing of race-particular situations is not a healthy response.

Another development seen recently is the attempt by “pro-Palestinian” activists in the United States to co-opt the Black Lives Matter movement and the recent catastrophes to their own narrow ends. Students for Justice in Palestine at New York University declared that those responsible for the “genocide” of Palestinians are likewise responsible for the “genocide” of African-Americans, a circle they attempt to square with the fact that a small number of U.S. police have received anti-terrorism training from the Israel Defence Forces.

There are plenty of issues competing for the attention of people of goodwill. There are injustices everywhere, God knows. There is racism, homophobia, antisemitism, Islamophobia and every range and permutation of human misery that deserve attention. Yet, when something as systemic and pernicious as the murder of African-Americans by those entrusted to protect American citizens becomes epidemic, this is not the time to elbow one group out of the way or try to co-opt their tragedies.

The value of duty, empathy

When Vancouver-based philanthropists Rosalie and Joe Segal announced a lead gift of $12 million towards a new centre for mental health, I felt deeply moved. I had had occasion to visit a loved one at the old facility a few years ago. By any measure, it was a depressing, dilapidated and lifeless space. The new facility promises the kind of physical atmosphere of compassion and dignity so necessary to recovery.

The planned $82 million centre is slated to open in 2017. In recent Globe and Mail coverage, a reporter asked Joe Segal what brought them to this latest philanthropic decision.

I’ll depart here for a moment to mention that there is a common journalistic convention whereby the writer introduces a quote by paraphrasing. In this case, the reporter said that the Segals’ decision “came from a place of empathy.” Then came the actual quote from Joe Segal: “You have an obligation, if you live in the community, to be sure that you do your duty.”

Are empathy and duty the same thing?

The two vantage points at first seem quite different. Empathy is about actually experiencing the plight of another. There is clearly an affective component. Duty somehow feels more legalistic, perhaps even at odds with emotion. As philosopher Immanuel Kant famously said, “Duty is the necessity to act out of reverence for the law.”

If empathy is more about feeling, experience and emotion, and if duty is more cognitive and legal, it seems we need to be concerned with how to summon both values across society. I turned to colleagues to help me better understand the relationship between the two concepts. For some, a viscerally emotional connection between the two is indeed present.

International theory scholar Daniel Levine points out that, for a sense of duty to function, citizens need to feel reverence for institutions, even those that we ourselves have created. Or, perhaps having created laws and ways of living for ourselves is precisely what motivates a sense of duty, “we revere it precisely because it’s ours; we are the sovereign,” Levine suggests. “We are free because we legislate and judge for ourselves.”

For professor of Jewish philosophy Zachary Braiterman, the cognitive and emotional elements are intertwined, “duty has an affective element, an excitement of the senses around a task at hand.”

And, for Jewish filmmaker Eliyahu Ungar-Sargon, “duty flows from empathy, in that moment when I connect the suffering of another to my own experience and that touches a kind of primal anger which motivates action.”

In Jewish tradition, philanthropy – or tzedakah – is considered a legal imperative. The Hebrew word itself shares a root with righteousness and justice, and it does not contain the affective aspects that the Greek-based word philanthropy does, meaning love of humankind.

Empathy in general seems to be less obviously discussed in Judaism, until one realizes that the Torah’s golden rule – “Love your neighbor as yourself” – is ultimately an empathy imperative.

When it comes to mental illness, it’s especially important to keep both duty and empathy in mind. Empathy can be extra hard to summon towards those who are in the throes of the disease. Some forms of mental illness cause sufferers to refuse treatment. Some victims act socially or otherwise inappropriately. Sometimes the sufferer no longer even seems like the actual person.

The Segals are clearly aware of how insidious and invisible mental illness can be, and the challenges around recognizing it and treating it. As Joe Segal told the Globe and Mail, “Mental health was under the rug, and we tried to lift the rug so it can become visible.”

It’s a powerful reminder of how empathy and duty are important elements in building a better society – both for helping those in personal crisis and for enabling us all to live the values of kindness, generosity and compassion.

Mira Sucharov is an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She blogs at Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward. This article was originally published in the Ottawa Jewish Bulletin.

Empathy, failure ‘n’ improv

Ilana Ben-Ari at work, play. (photo by Laynna Meyler)

For her design diploma thesis project, Ilana Ben-Ari created a toy that people with visual impairments could play with their sighted classmates, developing a language around communication and empathy. The formation of her company, 21 Toys, came after what she saw happen with that project.

“The toys really had an incredible way of using play to teach this abstract and difficult skill [empathy],” said Ben-Ari. “I don’t think we emphasize empathy in schools or in education…. We also don’t teach failure, critical thinking or complex problem solving.”

Ben-Ari, a former Winnipegger now living in Toronto, started 21 Toys with the hope of designing a whole fleet of toys honing often-undeveloped skills in both schools and today’s workforce, including creativity and innovation. These skills, Ben-Ari said, “are really hard to understand … to assess, practise or see.”

Ben-Ari created the Empathy Toy in the belief that the attribute of empathy serves as “not only the basis of communication and collaboration, but the backbone of innovation in design, business and other realms. Not only are these skills not being taught when they should be,” she said, “but they [educators] don’t have the right tools to teach them…. This is why a toy – an aid, tool – comes in handy.”

During Operation Protective Edge, a couple of manufacturers from Toronto sent toys, including Ben-Ari’s, to civilians on both sides. “We wanted to send toys to help in the best ways that we could,” said Ben-Ari. “It’s easy to feel helpless watching the conflict from so far away. We saw this as a chance, in some small way, to insert empathy into the heart of the conflict – by using fun and play to create moments of relief.”

Most recently, the toy is being used in a psychological lab established at Bar-Ilan University for kids and adults suffering from trauma.

Ben-Ari described the Empathy Toy as “3-D, abstract, wooden puzzle pieces that are played blindfolded. One player is given a build pattern of abstract wooden puzzle pieces and one or more players is tasked to recreate that same pattern. The challenge is that everybody is blindfolded while playing.

“Today, we need to focus on getting kids to understand what collaboration is, to start being a bit more creative and, in a way, unlearn what schools have reinforced…. When talking about empathy, it’s not just a soft, fuzzy feeling.”

Saint John’s High School in Winnipeg is using the Empathy Toy for its anxiety, language and literacy classes as a foundation of its new leadership program.

“Looking at someone else’s point of view, putting yourself into someone else’s shoes, and being able to work with and understand other people, [their] thinking and perspectives is very much at the heart of what skills you need to develop, to be able to learn,” said Ben-Ari.

“We’ve found that teachers use it for so many applications. What the toy does is let you introduce empathy in this playful way, but then it acts as a mirror to the lesson. It lets teachers be a lot more creative in how they approach their lessons. If we want kids to be innovative thinkers and creative, we can’t teach them that play is a bad thing, that toys, having fun and playing games are things that happen outside of learning.”

photo - The Empathy Toy home version sells for around $100 — The Empathy Toy home version sells for around $100. *(photo by Robyn Harrison)*

There are three versions of the Empathy Toy: a home version (also referred to as the “light version”) that sells for around $100; a school version that sells for $150-$200, with the price per unit going down with the more toys a school buys; and a version designed for organizations that sells for more than $200.

Schools typically ask 21 Toys to come in and do a professional development workshop with their staff. “Our toys are being used by Free the Children for their staff training,” said Ben-Ari. “We’ve done workshops with the Alzheimer’s society and children’s hospitals. There are a lot of opportunities for training for adults as a professional development tool.”

In British Columbia, Ben-Ari is aware of three places, so far, that are using the Empathy Toy – Holly Elementary in Surrey, the Discovery Centre for Entrepreneurship (Canada’s first Entrepreneurial Leadership Academy) and Coquitlam Open Learning. It is also being used at Winnipeg’s Gray Academy of Jewish Education and at Toronto’s Heschel School. The only place that sells the home version of the toy, apart from the 21 Toys website, is the Canadian Museum for Human Rights in Winnipeg.

Next in 21 Toys’ design sights is the Failure Toy, for which the company has nearly finished the prototype. “This toy will look like a cousin to the Empathy Toy,” said Ben-Ari. “It’ll be an abstract puzzle with funny game dynamics.

“The point of that toy will be to say, ‘Look, failure isn’t this fantastic thing, [but] it’s a very important part of the learning process and we shouldn’t give this signal that it’s bad and something to be avoided.’ Because, not only are we [preventing] ourselves from growing and from pushing ourselves and trying, but there’s no way we can be innovative or creative or even collaborate without having a healthy relationship with failure. You need to understand failure and develop it as a skill.”

Ben-Ari said that entrepreneurs need to go through stages to succeed. She referred to empathy as “the research phase, understanding where you are, context, the people you’re designing for and working with. Then comes failure with prototypes. Then comes the third toy in the fleet, which will be about improvisation. This stage is a lot like brainstorming and being able to build on other people’s ideas.”

For more information, visit twentyonetoys.com.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.