"Compassion Collapse," or Why is it so Hard to Help Large Numbers of People who are Suffering?

Hurricane Michael. The Indonesian earthquake and tsunami. Hurricane Florence. Tropical Storm Mangkhut. Hurricane Florence. California and B.C. wildfires.

Those are the major natural disasters since July, this year.

Not included are other hurricanes, storms and flooding around the world, not to mention the terrible war and famine in Yemen and the ongoing crisis in Syria.

Is it any wonder people today are experiencing what’s called “compassion collapse?”

That’s the term used by Jamal Zaki, a professor of psychology at Stanford University and the director of the Stanford Social Neuroscience Laboratory ina recent article in The Atlantic.

Hearing about these disasters, and the numbers of people killed, injured or made homeless can leave people “strangely unmoved,” he writes.

If that’s your experience, he says “you wouldn’t be alone. For decades, social scientists have documented a troubling quirk in human empathy: People tend to care more about the suffering of single individuals, and less about the pain of many people.”

This “compassion collapse” is morally backwards, he suggests.

When many people die, our compassion and sympathy should rise, he says. Instead, it does the opposite; it dries up.

And why is that?

There are several explanations, according to Zaki.

Some psychologists say that it’s due to evolution. We can’t feel compassionate towards so many who are suffering; our brains are hardwired against it.

“Human empathy has been built, over thousands of generations, to respond to certain triggers—for instance, a child’s cry or an anguished face,” he writes.

“A single victim produces these signs of distress, which tug at us and inspire our help. Groups give us statistics, which land flat, triggering little and thus benefiting less from others’ compassion.”

(I wrote about this earlier in a blog post titled WhyYour Brain Wants to Help One Person, but not Millions.)

Other psychologists say it’s a choice. Some people choose not to care about needs far away, to look away.

They may rationalize their lack of response by noting their small donation won’t make a difference when millions are suffering. Or they are afraid of burnout; how much suffering can one person take on?

Which leads Zaki to ask: “Is compassion collapse a ‘can’t’ or ‘won’t’ problem?” His conclusion: It’s both.

“People do empathize more naturally with one person’s visible, heart-wrenching sorrow than with descriptions of massive tragedies, and human emotion does have a limited range,” he says.

But, he adds, “even when people could extend their care toward a suffering group, they often shy away.”

Which is all fine a good from an academic point of view. What can NGOs do to combat compassion collapse?

Zaki has a few suggestions—none of which will be rocket science to NGO communicators and marketers

First, addressing the “can’t” problem, “evidence suggests that focusing on one of the sufferers can jump-start empathy for the entire group, giving them a vivid case on which to hang their care.”

Second, if someone thinks giving aid is pointless (the “won’t” problem), then telling them about the “difference they can make might inspire them to dig into their empathy even amid great tragedy.”

Of course, those of us who do communications and marketing for NGOs know this; we’ve been dealing with compassion collapse for decades.

We know that the best way to solicit support is by telling the story of one person in need. That’s why we always tell a personal story in appeals.

(For evidence of the importance and impact of this, we need only think of the photo of Aylan Kurdi, dead on the beach after trying to flee from Syria.)

Zaki adds on more thing of interest to those who work for NGOs trying to raise funds for development.

We all know that development is a way to strengthen people, a way to make them more resilient so they can withstand and recover quicker from disasters.

But raising funds for disaster response is always easier than raising money for development. Why is that?

Zaki’s response: “Charitable donations tend to be reactive, not proactive—it’s easier to care about the ongoing suffering of many than the potential suffering of future people that could still be prevented.”

In cases like these, he says, “aid and philanthropy should be driven by something else—for instance, objectively reasoned principles about which policies can make the biggest difference.”

(Hmm . . . I’ve yet to see much money generated by “objectively reasoned principles” about policies. Has anyone given that a try?)

Anyway, more food for thought. Comments?

Zaki is the author of a forthcoming book, The War For Kindness: Building Empathy in a Fractured World.