Fourth of a series on the elements and emotions involved with successful community-based innovation. While each blog stands alone, you’ll get the best understanding if you read them in order.
I am the lead mentor for a group of young men who were often called “squeegee kids.” When I was introduced to them by a colleague, they were working a busy city corner with their squeegees, approaching drivers who were stopped at red lights, cleaning their windshields and expecting tips. Now, five years later, Korner Boyz Enterprises is an LLC that sells its own branded water by the case and the pallet. Early in our work together, one of them asked me why I was working with them, what was in for me. I told him that he and the others brought me joy. I thanked him. He cocked his head, eyed me for a moment and said, “cool.”
Are we supposed to think about what we get out of working with otherwise disinvested communities? I have found that not everyone wants to think about that question.
Honest Empathy
I have given lots of talks, and I’m accustomed with folks being happy with me afterwards. One time, however, there was anger because I suggested that we get something out of our empathy and altruism. Narrative4, a successful non-profit that fosters “radical empathy,” asked me to reconcile the humanistic and cognitive scholarly literatures on empathy. (While the terms are often used interchangeably, “empathy” is the ability to feel the emotions or thoughts of another; “altruism” is the act of working to the other’s benefit.)
My talk included the documented cognitive pleasures and benefits. I told a personal story, about how, during a difficult divorce, I essentially self-medicated with altruism. I could either eat too much, drink too much or help somebody. Less red wine and chocolate, more altruism. I told them how, when someone suggested that I was being exploitative, I had asked a working-class adult with whom I was working. He had looked at me, puzzled, and said, “So you’re helping me and I’m helping you—what’s wrong with that? It makes me feel good to know that I’m helping you back.”
But after the talk, an audience member walked up, came in close and said, through gritted teeth, “How dare you suggest that I help people out of anything but selflessness?” I asked him if he ever felt good when he did his important work. He frowned at me but, after a bit, admitted that he did. I told him that I thought that we had to be honest with ourselves. It didn’t mean that his work was worth any less but that it might be why helpers whose work could be often unpleasant or heartbreaking could get up the next day and go back. (That man is now a friend.)
We experience a sense of well-being, when our friends have good news and even when they have bad news. It is the empathy itself that gives us a sense of wellbeing. The irony is that we also feel good about ourselves in the belief that we are not in it to feel good. Altruism is often defined as selflessness and that is certainly a good place to start but it’s not the whole story. We are social animals. The survival of the family or the tribe depends on our helping each other. We have evolved to feel and act together and like it.
We have cognitive “mirror” neurons that can lead us to reflect the emotions of others. We feel happy or sad along with them. But even mirroring the sad feelings of others can bring us both an immediate sense of pleasure and a more general sense of wellbeing about ourselves. Think of the sitting of the Jewish Shiva together, or the shorter Christian wake. Being sad together brings comfort to the bereaved. We also have witnessed despair when time or distance prevents sitting with family and friends in remembrance.
Still, it’s a difficult issue. You are getting a great deal out of it and you need to interrogate yourself about that.
Empathy feels good. It activates the pleasure centers, releasing oxytocin, the “love hormone.” Empathy is so good for your cognitive health that geriatricians suggest that seniors volunteer for charities to practice empathy and slow the effects of aging.
Altruistic action can improve feelings of happiness, optimism and confidence. It can increase energy. It can increase a sense of meaningful connection to others, social relationships and sense of purpose. Altruism can affect how you see yourself; it raises self-esteem. It can also affect how others see you. I know someone who described how she admired her partner as a good person. Her evidence was that he gave a homeless person a dollar every morning.
I mentioned earlier that empathy can be emotional or intellectual—to know how others are thinking. The field distinguishes between emotional empathy and intellectual empathy, but it is easy to see that emotions and logical processes are present at the same time. We think, we feel, we do together. And it is a pleasure.
