Empathy: Is There an App for That?
When I was a kid, probably nine or so, a hot summer day led me to one of our city’s public pools. Gleeful and sweaty, in I went, stretching my arms wide and basking in the envelopment of the cool water. My hand collided with something, and I suddenly felt a rush of movement that prompted me to surface.
A girl around my own age had also emerged. She was wailing and clutching her hand over her eye. She lurched through the water to her mom and sister, who glared at me. “How could you do this?” her sister shouted, as our moms found one another and launched into the hushed tones of semi-concealed adult distress. It turned out that I had minorly scratched the girl’s cornea.
The immediacy and intensity of her pain was so painful to witness; it seemed almost alien. Later that day, my mom came into my room and found me with one finger poised in front of my eye with simultaneous expressions of terror and willfulness. “I just need to know what it felt like!” I cried, before collapsing into a pile of sobs.
I think now about how viscerally I wanted to feel what she felt, certainly out of guilt but also, more subtly, out of curiosity. I’m still not sure where that curiosity sits on the spectrum of morbid fascination to empathy, but I think about how deeply, at some point, the desire exists to see the world from someone else’s (momentarily damaged) eyes. Somewhere along our lifelines, as our worldviews are established and then hardened, the flame of curiosity becomes more difficult to stoke.
Technology: What Makes Us Modern
Many have argued that diminishing empathy isn’t just a pattern in an individual lifespan, but a loss of community and connection in modern life, the result, mainly, of a shifting relationship with technology. We don’t have to look far to hear lamentations about how our dependence on devices has skewed the ways we engage with our interpersonal relationships, our communities, and the great issues of our age. Overdependence on technology has resulted in a social fabric depleted of human conversation, eroded community engagement, and in fact rewired our brains. In a time of communication through multi-tasking and identity performed through profile, we lose the desire, and in fact, the means, to share stories and experiences with those who are outside our silo of sameness.
Working at a dialogue organization, you won’t find much argument from me about the need to find time and space (both physical and mental) for human connection, or the importance of empathy of making sense of the complex world we live in.
But it’s important to recognize, too, that there’s no return from the digital age, and a nihilistic perspective about its effects on the human experience doesn’t get us very far. We can use findings like these to make time for more personal connection, structured conversation, and time spent without technology, of course. As families struggle to remain connected and seek to recover the “lost art” of conversation, those endeavors are critical as ever. But it’s also worth noting that, rather than simply erecting stronger boundaries with technology to recover our empathy, fascinating innovations to encourage empathy within the digital space are taking place – and shifting the possibilities for how one of our most important capacities as human beings takes shape.
Virtual Reality, Genuine Connection
Virtual reality projects undertaken by The New York Times have made showcased the stories of displaced children in the Middle East and in Europe, and in The Huffington Post have chronicled the perilous journeys of refugees passing through Greece. These images are powerful and thought provoking. Visually, we're in the subjects' world with them, passing by the same images of chaos and destruction, catching glimpses of hope and connection. Tyson Sadler, a producer of HuffPo’s “The Crossing,” said of the difference in a type of storytelling that places the audience with the subject:
“They’re right there with the refugees. They’re so much closer to the action. They see families. These refugees are people who had the same jobs as us. They took vacations. These people could be us. They want stability. They want their children to be educated. They want to go to the movies or have dinner at a restaurant with a friend. They want to make a life for themselves. They want what we want.”
According to Sadler, in addition to invoking strong emotional responses, viewers are more likely to engage in another direct result of empathy: taking action, either by donating or otherwise. The sense of empathy, more importantly, is long-lasting. Said one researcher, “One week later, the effect of virtual reality remains relatively stable whereas the effect of traditional media [like videos or news articles] dissipates. I think this is telling us that what people experience in a sensory way sticks with them over time and the effects are persistent.”
Experiments in empathy through technology extend beyond journalistic innovations, too, striving for an even more direct line to seeing, feeling, even being someone else. The BeAnotherLab offers participants the chance to perceive the world from the body of another person – essentially, to trade bodies. Its creator noted, “The sense of empathy can be powerful, and this leads to both parties being almost reverent about the body they’re experimenting with. People tend to be very respectful towards the other, and realize that the other body is from another person, and you don’t invade this.”
This experiment, and others like it, have demonstrated profound impact: “Other types of virtual reality have been shown to engender racial sensitivity in participants, as well as greater empathy for those with disabilities, respect for the environment, and an increased willingness to help others.”
Another lab based out of Yale University is seeking to encourage similarly "pro-social" behaviors, harnessing the power of technology to create more resilient and compassionate communities. In one experiment, encouraging teens (arguably the most device dependent generation) to engage in prosocial and empathy-based activities resulted in both more positive mindsets and changes in behavior and interpersonal engagement. This experiment didn’t even require virtual technology, simply a text reminder prompting them to think about something they shared with an acquaintance, to think of a conflict from someone else's perspective, or to ask someone a more open-ended style of question.
A Brave New World
So what would I tell my nine-year-old self about the future of understanding how other people feel and what they see? I think I would tell her to be mindful of the role of technology in her life, and that it could never replace the power of in-person human exchange. I’d tell her even the most advanced technology could never bridge the vast gulfs of divergent human experiences and no app will defuse the corrosive effect of apathy. But I’d also tell her not to create a false binary between what’s “real” and what’s “fake,” or deny the value of efforts to explore new frontiers of empathy in the digital age. It’s a brave new world, friends. For me, the bravery comes from embracing a changing world without losing myself, exploring new paths to connection without forgetting the primal curiosity of a girl standing at the edge of a pool, staring at a stranger.