Empathy is not a gift, but an obligation
I now realise that the last few weeks have been a lesson in empathetic cooperation. A pretty challenging exercise, where you had no idea in advance what you were actually dealing with.
Shortly after the outbreak of the pandemic, many media outlets said that the exceptional situation was also an opportunity for more empathy. My twelve-year-old daughter, who is very idealistic anyway, read the headlines and said: «Humanity has to prove itself now.» When I explained the measures to her in concrete terms, her enthusiasm waned a little. No meetings with friends. No swimming club. No ice cream in the first spring sunshine either. Even though the illness probably wouldn't affect her! I explained to my two children that there were people around us that we needed to protect: Their grandma, my mum, is almost 80 years old. The mum of one of my kindergarten friends has just recovered from cancer. A friend of mine, just 40, is considered a high-risk patient due to an autoimmune disease. The conclusion was not easy for the children, but it was clear: we have to put our needs aside. Show consideration for those who are weaker. Show solidarity.
How is this supposed to go on?
When I called friends in the first few days to ask how they were doing during the lockdown, the answers sounded similar: «We're taking it easy. We're focussing on each other right now. It's kind of relaxed.» Just one week later, it sounded very different. «It's difficult,» was the response. «Challenging,» my sister called it. «It often clashes here,» said a colleague.
Since the start of the pandemic, I have often wondered whether a time like this promotes selfishness.
I know many freelancers who will not survive this crisis unscathed. I read more and more comments on social media saying that «old people are sitting together in the sun while you risk your future for them». The hashtag #staythefuckathome was replaced by #fuckcorona.
I could also confirm the growing tension from our domestic interaction. At the back of my mind, the fear of how this would continue hummed like a constant disturbing sound. What would this mean for our professional future and our economy? My husband is an editor, I'm a freelance writer. We've been working from home since the lockdown.
Our granddaughter is in Year 7 at a grammar school and our son is in kindergarten. Latin and physics while homeschooling alongside a six-year-old hungry for exercise? Conference calls while the children argue? When I suggested a topic to a previously unknown editor-in-chief on the phone, our son screamed for toilet paper in the background. In hindsight, it's a funny story because the man laughed maniacally and bought the article anyway. But how would I have reacted if that had cost me the job? Empathetically? With understanding for the youngest in our family? Probably not.
Online dossier:
There were more arguments than usual
During these weeks in a state of emergency, I had to think several times of the line from Bertolt Brecht's «Threepenny Opera»: «First comes the food, then comes the morals.» As a teenager, I was disturbed by the idea that moral behaviour should be linked to prosperity. Since the start of the pandemic - with all the hoarding and theft of face masks - I have sometimes wondered whether such a time encourages selfishness.
It starts in the family. How well do you empathise with the other person when you're at the limit? When you are not only barely able to cope with your work, but are also worried about your job? We had a few situations in which neither the change of perspective nor empathic communication worked.
For example, my pre-pubescent daughter bitches at me while I'm completely exhausted from a night shift at my desk. I reflexively think: «How ungrateful, I'm the one keeping the place running.» It's only a few minutes of shouting and slamming doors later that I realise: she misses her friends, her everyday life, the regular school routine. Her nerves are suffering from the same lack as mine.
What helped us was a kind of cognitive or rational empathy. We still argued more often than usual. But we were able to resolve the disputes quickly by sitting down together and openly discussing how we felt. Individually and as a group. We then ritualised this. At dinner, we talked about what was good about each day. What we did well together.
As a family, we now know more than ever that acting with empathy is not a godsend, but often a challenge. It's an obligation that we should remember rationally.
Read more in the current dossier «Empathy»:
- A good feeling: how do you learn empathy?
The ability to empathise is in our genes. But it can only develop in an environment where feelings and compassion are modelled. How do children learn to understand others, read their feelings and act accordingly? - «Children need to practise recognising their own feelings and those of others»
33-year-old journalist Janine Schönenberger started talking to her sons Joan, 6, and Yanis, 4, at an early age about what emotional states there are and how they manifest themselves. This was triggered by emotion cards that her husband David, 47, had brought home from his work as a psychologist. The family lives in Emmen in the canton of Lucerne. - «My children are not afraid to show their compassion»
Petra Ribeiro, 49, is a care specialist and currently works as a carer for marginalised people. Without empathy for their fates, she would not be able to do her job. The single mum also teaches this to her children Zoe, 11, and Jordan, 8, who live in Zurich.