It’s not that empathy is gone—it’s just not rewarded. And those without it tend to rise the highest.

Every now and then, a question floats across the social ether that slices straight through the noise. “Is empathy disappearing in today’s world?” Molly Ploofkins asked this week on X. And though it reads like a question, it felt more like a confession. A gut check. A sigh.

My answer? Empathy isn’t disappearing. It’s just gone out of style with the people who run the show.

What we’re witnessing isn’t some natural erosion of humanity’s emotional capacity. It’s structural. Strategic. And frankly, chilling. Empathy hasn’t vanished from the human condition, it’s been systemically devalued. In politics, in media, in entertainment, in corporate boardrooms and billionaire bunkers alike, empathy is considered a liability. A weakness. A bug in the program.

We live in a culture where detachment gets rewarded. Disconnection wins elections. And the less you care, the more you're applauded for being “strong,” “pragmatic,” or “focused on the bottom line.” Somewhere along the way, cruelty got rebranded as clarity. Narcissism got a PR glow-up. And the algorithms loved every second of it.

You see it every day. On cable news, where shouting over someone is more profitable than listening to them. In viral clips of influencers flaunting luxury lifestyles while ignoring the pain unfolding outside their gated view. In tech and politics, where platforms are built to capture attention, not build compassion. And in every headline that praises profit margins while burying the people sacrificed to get there.

What’s truly vanishing isn’t empathy, it’s representation of the empathetic. Because here’s the ugly truth: The people with the most power, platforms, influence, resources, and reach tend to be the ones least tethered to collective well-being. Their version of “connection” is transactional. Their followers learn by watching. So, if you’ve found yourself lately asking, “Why does no one seem to care?” maybe you’re just looking at the wrong tier of society.

Empathy hasn’t disappeared. It’s just been muted, overshadowed by louder voices whose hearts beat only for status and self. But you still see it in nurses on 12-hour shifts holding hands with strangers. In teachers quietly feeding kids who come to school hungry. In the friend who drops off a meal without asking questions. In the stranger who sends money when they don’t have much to spare. These aren’t headlines. But they’re everywhere.

The danger isn’t just in the leaders who lack empathy. It’s in the followers who start to mirror them. When empathy is absent from the top, people begin to adopt a worldview where other humans are ranked, sorted, and judged according to ideology, religion, race, class, ability, gender, or proximity to power. It becomes easier to dehumanize when you’re told it’s noble. Easier to dismiss suffering when it’s framed as deserved. The result is a culture where compassion is conditional, and entire communities are treated like moral math problems—worthy only if they check the right boxes. It’s not that these followers are inherently cruel. It’s that they’ve been taught to believe that cruelty is righteous when it’s aimed in the “right” direction. That kind of thinking doesn’t just erode empathy, it rewires it into something weaponized, hollow, and dangerously selective. And that should scare us far more than apathy ever could.

And let’s be honest, if you’re asking the question, you still have empathy. That means it isn’t gone. It means you haven’t let the noise flatten your soul.

Still, we have to be careful. Empathy isn’t a fixed trait. It’s a muscle. And in this culture? That muscle atrophies fast. Spend too long scrolling through curated detachment, watching the rich flaunt emotional distance as power, and it’s easy to confuse numbness with strength. But they’re not the same. One leads to survival. The other leads to supremacy.

So what do we do?

We start by asking better questions. Not “Where did empathy go?” but “How am I modeling it?” Not “Why don’t they care?” but “Am I following people who do?” Because when the people you follow show no signs of a conscience, ask yourself what you're unconsciously absorbing from their example.

Empathy is still here. It’s in you. It’s in your neighbor. It’s in the quiet spaces social media skips over. But it needs practice. Intention. Alignment. And a decision to care in a world that will keep trying to convince you not to.

Empathy isn’t disappearing. It’s just that the people who run things never had much to begin with, and their influence is louder than our instincts.

But don’t let them trick you into forgetting what it feels like to care. Because when this whole house of mirrors shatters, and it will, it won’t be power that rebuilds us.

It’ll be the people who still know how to feel.

 

NOTE: Purple Hyacinth (n.):
A flower symbolizing empathy, sorrow, and heartfelt understanding.
Historically associated with deep emotion and regret, the purple hyacinth represents the unspoken bond between those who feel for others—especially in times of pain. In the language of flowers, it is a quiet testament to compassion, a reminder that to see someone’s suffering and stay soft anyway is an act of courage.

 

Written by: Tasha Monroe

Founder, Simply Edyn & Co.

Editor & Writer, The Commons Dispatch

This piece is part of The Commons Dispatch.

Twice a month, we sit with the hard stuff that require reflection, resistance, and viewing the world as it actually is. It’s not perfect, but it’s honest. From Simply Edyn & Co., for whoever’s still listening. 

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