Compassion occupies a complex role in modern culture. In moments of need, it is a trait that is desired and appreciated; the compassionate are celebrated and the selfish dismissed as amoral.
At the same time, compassion in a theoretical sense is often deemed weak or foolish. In a job interview, you will likely downplay your compassionate traits in favor of your assertive or even aggressive traits. When thinking about electing a president with possible war on the horizon, We the People naturally drawn to the leader we view as projecting strength- not compassion. Why this dichotomy surrounding compassion? Where does the complexity originate and what truth does it reveal?
Friedrich Nietzsche, the famous 19th century philosopher, had radical ideas about morality and its origins. In On the Genealogy of Morals, he posits that there are historically two moralities: one of nobility vs. the public and, later, morality of strength vs. weakness. The morality of compassion, then, comes from the latter, where weakness has subjugated strength.
Compassion means that the strong are, in some way, rejecting or relenting in their “rightful” strength. If a judge rules compassionately to someone who committed a crime, they are reducing a greater sentence that could be enforced. They are relenting in the full strength of the sentence and instead showing pity.
Nietzsche explains his theory in painstaking detail, but the point is that modern morality, for better or for worse, favors the gentle impulses over the stronger ones. But that does not remove the tension between the two. Rather, the tension causes both impulses to coexist.
Humans are complex organisms and hold the power to be two opposing things at once. This, in modern psychology terms, is the “Power of And,” meaning humans can be gentle and aggressive, weak and strong.
Hidden behind the nature of this tension, though, is truth: compassion is viewed as a moral good when a person in a position of power is exercising it, but it is viewed differently when the power dynamics are reversed. In a job interview, the interviewer has the power. If the interviewer is compassionate, that will be praised. If the interviewee is perceived as compassionate, that may be a liability, and is identified as a weakness, a reason to avoid. This exemplifies part of Nietzsche’s theory: power is the operative behind morality, at least when it comes to compassion. The strong adding weakness is viewed as a moral positive, while the weak becoming weaker is a moral negative.
These situations, though, only deal with external perception, not internal motivation. Take a different example: you are on the phone with customer service. The representative, who holds the power, is rude, short, and unhelpful. You decide to interact with kindness and patience instead of striking back. You are compassionate, and in a position of weakness. From the outside, as in the above situations, you being compassionate can be viewed as weak: “don’t let them speak to you like that” “you’re letting them walk all over you.” Compassion is viewed as wrong.
The script is flipped, though, when viewed from the inside. Not only do the external power dynamics matter, but the internal ones as well. The customer service representative is acting from a place of internal weakness, maybe attempting to gain some semblance of control in a job that they hate. You are acting from a place of internal strength, with the resilience to withstand an external blow and respond with gentleness. In turn, the situation becomes a little easier to navigate as you maintain control over yourself.
In this way, compassion is both weakness and strength, dependent upon the external situation and the internal processes operating in a given situation. This tension does not need to be solved; rather it is in the tension that we find the truest humanity.
Edited by Jeremy Harr and Abigail McKay Cherry