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.