If you ever needed confirmation that we’re living in an “Alice in Wonderland” world where up is down, night is day, and hate is love … consider this.

Empathy is toxic.

Yup. You read that right.

Empathy, the willingness and ability to share and relate to another’s experience – be it a family member, a neighbor, a friend – has, for some, become an insidious and evil emotion that threatens to ruin civil society.

Apparently, some think that Jesus’ claim that one of the two greatest commandments –  “love your neighbor as yourself” – was a bad idea.

And guess who thinks that Jesus got it all wrong … (drumroll) …

You guessed it! The religious right!

According to Allie Beth Stuckey, empathy is being “hijacked” by progressives who are using empathy to get conservatives to be, well, empathetic. Joe Rigney goes a step further. He classifies empathy as a “sin!” NYTimes writer Jenifer Sazali, notes that Rigney and Stuckey believe that radical liberals are using empathy to “trick Christians into tolerating abortion access and gay marriage.”

How dare they!

Oh, and then there’s Vice President JD Vance, a professed Catholic, who suggests there’s a Christian “empathy hierarchy.” According to the Vice President:

“You love your family, and then you love your neighbor, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens in your own country. And then after that, you can focus and prioritize the rest of the world.”

He must have missed reading Jesus’ parable of the good Samaritan.

Then there’s Musk, the father of 14 children by four different women. He calls himself a “cultural Christian.” According to him, “The fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy,” and that “foreigners” are “exploiting a bug in Western civilization, which is the empathy response.” For Musk “love your neighbor” should become “loathe your neighbor.”

No. “Toxic empathy” is an oxymoron. It is a desperate attempt to relabel a human virtue – in my opinion, a “Godly virtue” – as a vice.

What empathy actually is (and isn’t)

Empathy isn’t pity, and it isn’t just “being nice.” At minimum, it’s the ability to understand—sometimes feel—what someone else is going through.

Empathy is a critical step that moves us beyond pity to action. Sympathy says, “I care about your pain.” Empathy says, “I can sense your pain.” Compassion goes a step further: “I want to help relieve your pain.”

Empathy isn’t the slippery slope; callousness is.

Empathy is the distinctive characteristic of the Christian God

The irony of the claim by some Christians that empathy is “toxic” is that empathy is a distinctive characteristic of the Christian God.

At the core of Christian belief is that “the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us.” That means that God, in the person of Jesus, shared our pain, our fears, our shortcomings, our frustrations, our misgivings, our passions. For Christians, empathy isn’t optional—it is the unique shape of the gospel. The life of Jesus is a witness to a God who is empathetic to the human condition. No other religion or faith can match that claim.

Empathy Myths vs. Realities

Here’s the myth vs. the reality of empathy:

Myth – Empathy makes you weak.
Reality – Empathy strengthens relationships and trust.

Myth – Empathy excuses bad behavior.
Reality – Empathy helps you understand motives while still holding people accountable.

Myth – Empathy is a political tool.
Reality – Empathy is a human virtue—and a divine one.

Empathy vs. Polarization

We live in a polarized world where disagreement quickly leads to dehumanization. Empathy is how we resist that slide. It humanizes the other side long enough for us to hear, understand, and—when needed—challenge. It’s not moral mush; it’s the precondition for moral persuasion.

When critics say empathy is a progressive plot, they inadvertently prove the counterpoint: that lack of empathy is what turns political opponents into targets and neighbors into abstractions.

If your theology or politics requires you to feel less with people in pain, you’re moving away from Jesus, not toward Him. If your empathy ever tempts you to excuse harm, that’s not empathy—that’s avoidance.

I think Erich Bridges put it simply: “

Toxic empathy isn’t our problem; hardness of heart is.”

Whatever it is—your thinking, that is—just know this: according to some, it might be the source of most (if not all) of your problems.

That’s the gist of a book I just picked up. I was at Barnes & Noble to grab a copy of Orwell’s 1984 (a story for another post!) when a small stack of books caught my eye at the checkout counter. Sitting on top was a tidy little hardback with an irresistible title: “Don’t Believe Everything You Think.”

Cute. Creative. Clickbait for the analog world.

It piqued my curiosity. Plus, the book had that satisfying heft in the hand and, thanks to some B&N credits, it was basically free.

Why the curiosity? I’ve long wrestled with my own thinking. I think a lot. Too much, I think. Sometimes it serves me well. Other times, it takes me down mental rabbit holes with no cheese at the end.

See? There I go again—thinking about my thinking.

So I figured: maybe this Nguyen fellow might provide some valuable insight.

Setting the Stage

But before diving into the book’s ideas, let me offer three quick caveats—wisdom gleaned from four decades in politics, marketing, communications, and the occasional stint as a high school English teacher. As for the latter, when analyzing a piece of non-fiction, I typically advise my students to do three things.

First, look up the author. Mr. Nguyen has a well-polished online presence: website, blog, Instagram, YouTube. But here’s the catch—no bio. No credentials. No clear academic or professional background. It’s all sizzle, very little steak.

Second, when it comes to nonfiction, follow the sources. In this case, there aren’t many. Vague personal anecdotes, sure. But no studies, no citations, no bibliography. It’s kind of like eating soup with a fork—you’re not sure you’re getting the full nourishment.

Third, consider the style. Nguyen writes in a self-help, motivational speaker kind of tone. Lots of “You can do it!” and “Here’s the secret I discovered!” Think Tony Robbins meets the latest “lose weight now!” commercial.

The Big Claim

Nguyen’s core message is clear: “The root cause of our suffering is our own thinking.” (pg. 21)

OK. I get it. As someone who struggles with overthinking, I can relate.

Yes, anxiety is rampant. A 2024 poll from the American Psychiatric Association found that 43% of U.S. adults feel more anxious than last year. That’s up from 37% in 2023 and 32% in 2022.

Why the uptick? Some blame the economy. Others point to climate change. Or political polarization. Or gun violence. Jonathan Haidt, in The Anxious Generation, puts the blame squarely on technology.

But Nguyen? He says it’s just our thinking. There’s a good case to be made. Most of us experience over-thinking – aka “rumination” – at some point in our life. According to one study “nearly 73% of 25 to 35-year-olds and 52% of 45 to 55-year-olds experienced overthinking in their day-to-day lives.” According to this and other studies, this “rumination” tends to decrease with age. I must be the exception to the rule.

So Nguyen is on to something. But it’s the diagnosis—and more importantly, the prescription—that gets my brow to furrow.

First, Nguyen draws a sharp line between “thoughts” and “thinking.” Thoughts, he says, are neutral. Thinking is what gets us in trouble. Interesting… but also a little like separating “fire” from “burning.”

Further, he claims that thoughts come from “the universe or our higher selves,” while thinking comes from “our egos” (pg. 78) Really?

Consider these “thoughts”:

– White people are the superior race.
– People I disagree with are assholes.
– Let’s get drunk.
– Money is the most important thing in life.

Is that our higher self? I don’t think so (there I go again!) In his book, Nguyen’s thinking (dog gone it! I did it again!) is akin to Rousseau—humans are born pure and corrupted by the world. But Hobbes might have the stronger case: that in our natural state, humans are solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.

Me? I think the truth is probably somewhere in between.

Second, Nguyen suggests that thinking prompts us to think in terms of “black and white” – “good and bad.” He suggests that there’s no such thing as “good” or “bad.” He quotes Shakespeare’s Hamlet that: “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” Yes, many philosophers (and therapists) urge us to reserve judgment, especially in the moment. What seems “bad” today—a lost job, a breakup—may turn out to be the beginning of something better. But denying good and bad altogether? That’s not just philosophical fastidiousness—it’s potentially dangerous. It risks numbing us to injustice and inaction. As Dr. King reminded us, we must respond to “the fierce urgency of now.”

Third, Nguyen claims it’s not what we think—it’s the mere act of thinking that causes suffering.

(Wait… is Nguyen asking us to think about that?)

I don’t know about you, but some of my biggest regrets came from not thinking. And some of the world’s greatest advances —personally and societally—have come from people daring to think in new and challenging ways.

Sure, overthinking can lead to what psychologists call “ANTs”—automatic negative thoughts. It can be paralyzing. But the antidote to bad thinking isn’t no thinking. It’s better thinking.

So… Think Again?

Philosophers from Aristotle to William James to Viktor Frankl have praised the power of thoughtful reflection. And science agrees—positive thinking improves mental and physical health.

Which brings to mind the words of St. Paul:

“Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest,
whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are
lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be
any praise, think on these things.” (Philippians 4:8)

Thinking isn’t the enemy. It’s a tool. And like any tool, it can be misused—or wielded with wisdom.

So yeah. Don’t believe everything you think.

But don’t stop thinking either.

Think about that.

Photo by Oziel Gómez on Unsplash

We have them. At least some of the time.

But are we the result of our choices?

I ask because I’m finishing up a course for high school teachers on what is called “The Economic Way of Thinking.” It didn’t take long for me to learn that it was mainly a course on how to teach or infuse history with the benefits of free-market, capitalism. Business=good. Government=bad.

A lot of their logic rests on the premise of choice. Indeed, the very first principle taught as part of the course was: People choose, and individual choices are the source of social outcomes.

Now I’m a big believer in personal responsibility. But when I read this I thought to myself, “there’s some amiss here.” It made everything sound so simple. Too simple. You choose and from those choices you make, stuff happens. Some good stuff. Some bad stuff. But whatever stuff it is, it is all the result of your choices.

As I read this decidedly conservative curriculum the more I wondered: “how much choice do people really have?”

Probably less than one might think.

There are a lot of things about which we have no choice. I didn’t get to choose my gender, ethnicity, or my race (I’m male and very white). I didn’t get to choose whether my parents had good or bad parenting skills (I got very lucky on this one!). I didn’t get to choose my lower-middle-class neighborhood outside of New Orleans (not too dangerous but sometimes sketchy). And I certainly didn’t get to choose my DNA or “natural talents” (missed out on most of those).

Now one might say that these don’t matter much. That regardless of whatever combination of the above factors – gender, race, parenting, neighborhood, genes, talent – regardless of any of that, each person gets to “shape” their own destiny. 

True in theory. But “conditions” shape “choices.” The latter makes the former either much easier or much more challenging. And for every story about a down-and-out, challenged individual who through pluck and effort made something out of themselves, I can probably identify dozens who made the same effort, worked just as hard, but found themselves at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong boss and under the wrong circumstances.

History is about choices. But history is also about circumstances and the chances and choices they afford. It is good, I believe, to recognize that because of their circumstances, some have much better choices – and therefore much better chances – than others.

I’m reminded of the exchange between reporter Sander Vanocur of NBC News and Dr. Martin Luther King in May 1967. Here’s the full interview posted by Josh Dance:

NBC correspondent Sander Vanocur:

What is it about the negro I mean every other group that came as an immigrant somehow? Not easily, but somehow got around it. Is it just the fact that Negroes are Black?

Martin Luther King:

“White America must see, that no other ethnic group has been a slave on American soil. That is one thing that other immigrant groups haven’t had to face.

The other thing is that the color, became a stigma. American society made the Negroes color a stigma. America freed the slaves in 1863, through the Emancipation Proclamation of Abraham Lincoln, but gave the slaves no land, and nothing in reality. And as a matter of fact, to get started on.

At the same time, America was giving away, millions of acres of land in the west and the Midwest. Which meant that there was a willingness to give the white peasants from Europe an economic base, and yet it refused to give its black peasants from Africa, who came here involuntarily in chains and had worked free for two hundred and forty-four years, any kind of economic base.

And so emancipation for the Negro was really freedom to hunger. It was freedom to the winds and rains of Heaven. It was freedom without food to eat or land to cultivate and therefore was freedom and famine at the same time.

And when white Americans tell the Negro to “’lift himself by his own bootstraps’, they don’t, oh, they don’t look over the legacy of slavery and segregation. I believe we ought to do all we can and seek to lift ourselves by our own bootstraps, but it’s a cruel jest to say to a bootless man that he ought to lift himself by his own bootstraps.

And many Negroes by the thousands and millions have been left bootless as a result of all of these years of Oppression and as a result of a society that deliberately made his color a stigma and something worthless and degrading.”

So in my lesson plans, I’ll include the “economic way of thinking” and give a tip of the hat to Adam Smith and free-market enterprise. 

But when it comes to choices and circumstances … I’ll be sure to include Dr. King’s perspective as well.

For those of you who are readers of the JuiceBar, the following essay is part of a Web 2.0 exercise in presenting a popular culture artifact for the graduate course Teaching & Learning Historical Thinking, part of the George Mason University College of Education and Human Development Secondary Education (SEED) Program. The requirement is a Web 2.0 exercise that could be used in a high school history course. In this case, I’m using this blog post to engage students on how music can provide insight into history. I hope you enjoy it. And feel free to pretend you are in my high school history class and offer your thoughts on current songs that give insight on what is going on in today’s social, economic and political culture.

Folks, the topic today is popular culture. Specifically, what you can learn about history and a historical period through popular culture. By popular culture, I thinking about things like movies, fashion, and music. 

In this case, let’s take a look at music.

Music is often both a reflection of and reaction to the political, economic, and social trends in a given period. Take the issue of war and conflict. In American history, we have songs of the American Revolution, Civil War, World War II and the Vietnam War. If you’re interested, just try “Googling” any of those wars and “music.” You’ll get some interesting lists. Most of the songs of earlier wars were written to support the cause. But there were others that gave voice to the opposition to war.Others oppose it. If you’re looking for something that typifies the latter, listen to my favorite anti-Vietnam anthem, Edwin Star’s “War” which was popular protest song during Vietnam. It is a classic.

But music isn’t just reflective of or a reaction to conflict.  When you think about American history in general, you can identify music that is reflective of social movements in everything from the suffragette movement (it even has a Spotify channel!) to desegregation in the 60s to the LGBT movement and Katy Perry’s song “I kissed a girl.”

[Hold on to that thought because a bit later I’m going to ask you to identify a song in popular culture today that, in your opinion, is reflective in some way of what is going on in today’s society.]

In this case, we’re going to focus on songs that reflect the economic developments. This was particularly true of the songs of the 30s and the Great Depression. The depth and scope of the Great Depression are hard to appreciate today.  At its height nearly a quarter of Americans were unemployed. Amidst these dark times emerged a lot of upbeat music (most notably, swing music). In that case, one can interpret music as a reaction to the downbeat mood. There were a lot of those – upbeat tunes and lyrics, that is. Hard to imagine that one of the most popular titles during those years was a 1933 tune called “We’re in the Money.” Ironic since most people weren’t (in the money, that is) but sociologist speculate that tunes like this gave people who otherwise had no hope, hope.

But in terms of a song that best truly reflected the era was the tune “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime” which came out in 1932 at the deepest periods of unemployment. I’ve copied and pasted the lyrics to the song below.

The tune, which first was sung as part of a review titled “Americana” became the “anthem” for workers during the Great Depression. It was a thinly veiled indictment of a capitalist economic system that many people felt had “left behind” the workers that built America.

The song chronicles the story of the workers who built the nation’s railroads, buildings, and infrastructure as well as those who fought in the gruesome first World War (“khaki suits”) and how the U.S. economic system seemingly deserted them during the depression and now they are forced to “beg” for money.

Not only can the tune give insight into the 1930s one could also be used to gain insight into today’s modern economic malaise.

Specifically, you can read through the lyrics of this song and hear the same complaints that many American workers in the Midwest have today about the loss of good-paying manufacturing blue collar jobs due to automation and international trade.

NOW HERE’S MY ASK of you.  Comment on this blog post. Feel free to react to anything I’ve written above but I want you to specifically comment on the lyrics of this song and how you think it gave voice to workers in the Great Depression. But wait, there’s more! In your comment I also want you to identify a relatively current song – say something in the last five years – that you think captures one element of what is going on in today’s culture, economy, or politics. If you can’t find one, feel free to write a song of your own! One important note. Let’s keep any current song one that is free from explicatives or vulgar language. I know that knocks out quite a few. But think about some of the songs that are on your favorite playlist over the past few years and think about what that song helps describe developments in today’s society, culture, politics or … economics!  BTW if you want to rewrite the song below for today, you’ll have to change the numbers. A dime back in the 1930s would be about a buck fifty today ($1.47).

“Brother, Can You Spare a Dime,” lyrics by Yip Harburg, music by Jay Gorney (1931)

They used to tell me I was building a dream, and so I followed the mob,

When there was earth to plow, or guns to bear, I was always there right on the job.

They used to tell me I was building a dream, with peace and glory ahead,

Why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad, I made it run, made it race against time.

Once I built a railroad; now it’s done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once I built a tower, up to the sun, brick, and rivet, and lime;

Once I built a tower, now it’s done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,

Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,

Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,

And I was the kid with the drum!

Say, don’t you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.

Why don’t you remember, I’m your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,

Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,

Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,

And I was the kid with the drum!

Say, don’t you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.

Say, don’t you remember, I’m your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?