Olivia: A study found that when you give people power, their ability to read others' emotions literally declines. It's like a switch flips in the brain. Power doesn't just corrupt; it can make you blind. Jackson: Wait, seriously? So my boss might not be a jerk, he's just... neurologically handicapped by his job title? That's a wild idea. Olivia: It's one of the core insights from the book we're diving into today: Social Empathy: The Art of Understanding Others by Elizabeth A. Segal. And what's fascinating is that Segal isn't just a psychologist; she's a professor of social work. Jackson: Ah, that makes a difference. So she's coming at this from the front lines. Olivia: Exactly. She spent her career trying to figure out why policies designed to help people so often fail, and she landed on this idea of a societal empathy deficit. She noticed in her own classes that some students could easily grasp the experiences of entire social groups, while others, despite being kind individuals, just couldn't see beyond their own perspective. That puzzle is the heart of this book. Jackson: Okay, I'm in. But I have to ask, 'social empathy' sounds a bit academic. Isn't empathy just... you know, feeling bad for someone when they're having a tough time?

Olivia: That’s the perfect question, because it gets right to the book’s central argument. What you’re describing is closer to sympathy or what Segal calls interpersonal empathy. It’s that immediate, gut-level connection. But social empathy is a whole different level. It’s the difference between 'feeling with' someone and truly 'understanding why' they are in their situation in the first place. Jackson: So it’s like seeing the backstory, not just the scene playing out in front of you. Olivia: Precisely. Segal uses the example of Hurricane Katrina, which is just devastatingly effective. When the storm hit New Orleans in 2005, most of us watching on TV felt this overwhelming sympathy. We saw people on rooftops, desperate for help. We felt their fear. That’s interpersonal empathy. Jackson: Right, I remember that. And I also remember the news coverage quickly shifting. Olivia: It did. The narrative turned to stories of "looting." People breaking into stores. And the immediate judgment from many pundits was, "Look at these criminals." But social empathy asks you to pause and look at the context. These weren't people stealing big-screen TVs; they were taking diapers, water, food. The author herself admits her first thought was, "I would do anything to survive, including stealing." Jackson: That’s a really honest admission. It’s easy to judge from a safe, dry living room. Olivia: It is. And this is where the empathy gap becomes a chasm. Segal points to a comment made by former First Lady Barbara Bush while visiting evacuees in the Houston Astrodome. She said, and this is a direct quote, "so many of the people here were underprivileged anyway, this is working very well for them." Jackson: Oof. That is… that is tough to hear. It’s so profoundly out of touch it’s almost surreal. Olivia: It's a perfect, if painful, example of a total failure of social empathy. She might have felt sympathy—she was there to help raise money, after all. But she had zero contextual understanding. She didn't see the generations of systemic poverty, racial segregation, and crumbling infrastructure that made the hurricane so catastrophic for that specific population. She just saw "underprivileged people" getting a free place to stay. Jackson: So social empathy would have been understanding the history of poverty and systemic neglect in New Orleans before the storm even hit? It’s about knowing the historical and social soil that a crisis grows in. Olivia: Exactly. Segal breaks it down into two key components that get added on top of regular empathy: Contextual Understanding and Macro Perspective-Taking. It’s not enough to imagine being that one person on that one rooftop. You have to be able to zoom out and understand the historical, economic, and political forces that put millions of people in a vulnerable position to begin with. Jackson: That sounds… hard. It sounds like it requires a lot of work. It's not just a feeling; it's an intellectual and historical exercise. Olivia: It is. And that’s why it’s so rare. Another example she gives is the 1996 welfare reform, which was sold with the slogan "end welfare as we know it." The policymakers, who were mostly wealthy, white men, created rules based on their own life experiences—assuming people could just get a job, find childcare, and have reliable transportation. Jackson: But for a single mother in a rural area with no car and a sick kid, that's a completely different universe. Olivia: A different universe. The policymakers lacked the social empathy to understand the lived reality of the people their laws would affect. They weren't necessarily bad people, but they were operating with a massive empathy gap. They couldn't take that macro perspective. Jackson: Okay, I'm starting to see how this is so much bigger than just being a "nice person." It's a skill of seeing systems. But if it's so important, why are we so bad at it?

Olivia: Well, that leads right into the next part of the book, which is that seeing that context is incredibly hard, because our brains and our society actively build walls against it. This brings us to the barriers to empathy. The biggest one is the concept of "otherness." Jackson: The classic 'us versus them' mentality. Olivia: Exactly. Our brains are wired for tribalism. It helped us survive for millennia. But in a complex, global society, it’s a huge liability. We naturally feel more empathy for people in our "ingroup." The book argues that in America, race is one of the most powerful and persistent markers of 'otherness'. Jackson: And it doesn't matter how successful you are, that 'otherness' can stick to you. Olivia: It’s a crucial point. Segal uses the story of LeBron James. Here is a man who is arguably one of the most famous, wealthy, and admired athletes on the planet. Yet in 2017, his home in Los Angeles was vandalized with spray-painted racial slurs. Jackson: That's just sickening. It proves that to some people, he's not LeBron the global icon; he's just a Black man who needs to be put back in his place. Olivia: That's what he said himself. He gave a press conference and said, "No matter how much money you have, no matter how famous you are... being black in America is tough." It's a stark reminder that success doesn't let you transcend the box society puts you in. That 'otherness' is a powerful empathy blocker. Jackson: So society creates these arbitrary lines of 'otherness' that even a superstar can't cross. But the book must offer some hope, right? Can these walls be broken down? Olivia: It does, and through a beautiful, personal story from the author's own family. Her father was a Jewish-American soldier captured by the Germans in World War II. He was a prisoner of war, starving, on a forced march. He was assigned to do some work on a farm, and he smelled the farmer's wife making potato pancakes. Jackson: Oh, I can see where this is going. Olivia: In broken German, he managed to tell her that his grandmother, who was from Hamburg, also made potato pancakes. In that one moment, he wasn't the enemy soldier. He wasn't the 'other'. He was a grandson who missed his grandmother's cooking. Jackson: He found a human connection. Olivia: He did. And the woman, at great risk to herself and her family, slipped him a potato pancake. That small act of empathy, of seeing the human instead of the uniform, likely gave him the calories he needed to survive. Jackson: Wow. So on one hand, society creates these arbitrary lines of 'otherness' that even a superstar can't cross. But on the other, a simple, human connection over a piece of food can erase them, even between enemies. That's a powerful contradiction. Olivia: It is. But there's another barrier that makes it harder to even look for that potato pancake connection. And that brings us back to your boss. It's power. Jackson: Right, the hook you started with. Power makes you blind. How does that work? Olivia: The research Segal cites is fascinating. When people are in positions of power, they stop paying as much attention to the individuals below them. They don't need to. Their survival doesn't depend on reading the subtle cues of their subordinates. The powerless, however, are constantly watching the powerful, trying to predict their moods and actions. Jackson: That makes so much sense. You're always trying to figure out what your boss is thinking. But the boss isn't spending their day wondering what the intern is feeling. Olivia: Exactly. Power reduces perspective-taking. Segal tells a story about a university president who was moving a whole department to a new campus twenty miles away. The staff, many of whom were lower-wage workers, were terrified. Their biggest concern was about safe, affordable parking. When a secretary asked about it in a public forum, the president berated her for being "small-minded" and not seeing the "big picture" of progress. Jackson: He completely missed the point. For her, parking wasn't a small detail; it was about her physical safety and her budget. It was her whole world. Olivia: He had zero social empathy. His power made him blind to her reality. He achieved his goal—the campus moved—but he lost the trust and connection of his people. They complied, but they weren't on board.

Olivia: And this is where the book offers its most hopeful message. Segal argues that this isn't a fixed state. We aren't doomed to be blinded by power or trapped by tribalism. Social empathy can be learned. Jackson: Okay, I'm listening. How? You can't just tell people, "Be more empathetic!" Olivia: You can't. It has to be taught and practiced. The book lays out a practical, three-tiered framework: Exposure, Explanation, and Experience. Jackson: Exposure, Explanation, Experience. Okay, break that down for me. Olivia: Exposure is about getting out of your bubble. Intentionally interacting with people and media from different backgrounds. Experience is about immersion—traveling, living in a different community, or deeply engaging with another culture. But the one I find most interesting is Explanation. This is about actively learning the 'why' behind the differences. Jackson: The contextual understanding part. Olivia: Yes. And she gives a great classroom exercise to illustrate it, called the "Privilege Ladder." It's a way to talk about privilege without the immediate defensiveness that word can trigger. Jackson: I can imagine. The word 'privilege' makes a lot of people shut down immediately. Olivia: It does. So instead of a public declaration, she has students do it privately on a piece of paper. They start in the middle of a ladder. Then she asks a series of questions. "If you grew up in a neighborhood that felt safe, move up one rung." "If your ancestors were forced to come to this country, move down one rung." "If you are a member of the dominant religion in your country, move up one rung." Jackson: I see. So it's a private inventory of the unearned advantages and disadvantages you started life with. Olivia: Exactly. It’s not about guilt-tripping; it’s about awareness. It’s a diagnostic tool, not a judgment. It just helps people see that the starting line isn't the same for everyone. It's a powerful tool for 'Explanation.' Jackson: I like that. It's concrete and personal. But how do you scale that up? How does one person's awareness in a classroom actually change society?

Olivia: That is the million-dollar question. And Segal's answer is that individual empathy, when it becomes social empathy, is the engine of social movements. It scales up through collective action and storytelling. She gives the example of the Greensboro Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Jackson: I've heard of that, but I don't know the details. Olivia: In 1979, in Greensboro, North Carolina, five anti-Klan protestors were killed by Klan members. The court cases that followed were a mess, and the community felt no justice was served. Decades later, instead of seeking revenge, community members organized their own Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Jackson: Like what happened in South Africa after apartheid. Olivia: A similar model. It wasn't a trial. It wasn't about punishment. It was about providing a public platform for everyone—victims, perpetrators, community members—to tell their stories. It was a massive, collective act of witnessing. An exercise in social empathy on a city-wide scale. Jackson: They were building that contextual understanding for the whole community. Olivia: They were. They were transforming a painful, unjust event into an opportunity for public expression and healing. And that's the ultimate point of the book. Social empathy isn't a passive feeling of pity. It's the active, sometimes difficult, choice to learn the context, to bridge the 'otherness' gap, and to understand that someone's reality is shaped by forces far beyond what we see in a single moment. Jackson: It’s a mindset, as she says. A way of seeing the world. So the question for all of us listening is, where is our biggest empathy gap? Is it with a political group we disagree with, a generation we don't understand, or a community in our own city we've never really seen? Olivia: A perfect question to reflect on. The book argues that empathy spreads. If a few of us become a little more socially empathic, it influences others, who in turn influence more. That, she says, is the history of empathy. We’d love to hear your thoughts. Find us on our socials and share one small step you could take this week to practice social empathy. Jackson: It’s a challenge, but a worthy one. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.