I walk a little over a mile to and from work each day, and I usually spend it listening to podcasts, or to books on Audible. After more than a year of this, I really look forward to certain days when I know certain podcasts will have a new episode out. Note to Self is one of them. I love Manoush Zomorodi’s style of reporting on technology and how it affects our lives, and I love how she’s styled herself as a guide to “our accelerating world.” Because wow, yes, is it ever accelerating.
Note to Self is often about technology in a technical sense, but the show also takes occasional detours into the psychology of how we interact with tech. This, of course, is my favorite thing to write and read about. So I was really excited when Zomorodi recently interviewed Dylan Marron. He’s a progressive YouTuber and writer who also has a new podcast, called Conversations With People Who Hate Me. It’s pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Remember when Lindy West called her troll and it became a viral This American Life episode? Marron does a similar thing on each episode of Conversations. He talks to the people who profess to think he’s the scum of the earth, and tries to find out why.
This is something I’m going to write more about soon – podcasts and radical empathy – but for the purposes of this blog post I really want to focus on one thing Marron said during this Note to Self episode: empathy doesn’t mean endorsement. This is a fact that’s become so obvious to me, I think I forget to enunciate it to others when I talk about empathy. I’ve never found such a succinct way of saying it, either. But it’s absolutely the truth: sitting down and listening to someone does not necessarily mean validating them, and it definitely doesn’t mean agreeing with them. It’s just…acknowledging them. Taking their perspective.
That can feel a little scary. I know that I have had experiences in which I read something written by someone with vastly different views from my own and as I prepare to put myself in their shoes I think, what if I can’t get back out? What if they convince me? But things don’t really happen that abruptly, most of the time. We make our decisions and create our ideologies based on a mix of experiences and information, and it all sort of flows together and tries to balance itself out, rarely truly solidifying into one thing. What I mean is, we’re always learning, always changing our minds a little bit, even if we don’t always notice it, or want to.
I thought about this concept a lot as I watched the recent Alabama election unfold. Everyone around me kept asking, “How could these people vote for a pedophile?” I can’t say the answer is the same for everyone who voted for Roy Moore, but I can say pretty confidently that many of them did so because they didn’t believe what they heard about him. Or, they only believed parts of what they heard about him.
Brian Resnick has a great piece about this up at Vox. He interviewed a lot of Moore supporters in Alabama before the election, and reading this piece, I feel like I can really empathize with these people. Trying to put myself briefly in their shoes, I feel afraid, I feel disappointed, I feel betrayed. This is something I tried to do when reading story after story about Trump supporters last year as well. And I think it’s a worthwhile practice. But the part that nobody really seems to talk about is… then what?
What do I do with this information? What do I do with the fact that people of all parties and ideologies cling to confirmation bias and “motivated reasoning?” Well, it’s made me feel a little bit less hopeless about change, for one thing. That might seem counter-intuitive, but knowing that we’re all susceptible to this, and witnessing people have conversations about it that don’t end in name-calling or fist fights, is encouraging. It also helps me feel less angry, which is no small thing. Over the past couple of years I’ve found anger to be less and less useful for me, at least on a personal level. Being mad at friends or family or strangers who did something I see as wrong doesn’t actually accomplish anything for me, except raising my blood pressure. When I understand their points of view a bit better, I can take some of the emotion out of my reaction to them. And if we’re both on the same page about that, we can have a conversation, and figure out where we agree. And sometimes… sometimes, one or both of us can bend a little. Without the pressure to immediately admit or agree to anything, this can feel a lot easier.
There’s one major caveat to all of this. And it’s never far from my mind when reading and listening to these conversations. This isn’t just about liberals learning to empathize with conservatives. There’s a lot going on in the other direction as well. And, especially after the election of Doug Jones over Roy Moore in Alabama, it’s way past time to start asking people to empathize with another group who doesn’t get nearly enough attention despite their huge impact and disproportionate burden: black voters. Especially black women. It’s good that we’re talking about empathy so much, but we also need to be real with ourselves about who we reserve it for.