The Economics of Empathy: Why We Struggle to Care in Today's Digital Age

Ever found yourself drowning in a sea of good intentions but unable to surface for air? Welcome to the plight of the modern empathizer.

Picture this: a friend's podcast to listen to, a colleague's event to attend, a family member's email left unread—each a droplet in the deluge of demands vying for our attention.

My own examples are manyfold and expansive. I want to listen to Debbie’s podcasts. I want to attend Andy’s live music events. I want to film an unboxing review of Rajesh’s new book. Just this week, I meant to send a care package to my daughter, who’s settling into her new university. I intended to take food to a colleague recuperating from surgery. Although I care about each and every person mentioned, I didn’t actually do any of those things. I never converted the care into the do.

Admittedly, I could never have done all those things in a week. Nevertheless, I’m left feeling a few pangs of guilt.

We live in a world where time is a scarce commodity, and the clock is a relentless taskmaster. Despite our best efforts, there are only so many hours in a day to allocate among competing priorities. But wait, there's more.

Enter the Tyranny of Choice. Barry Schwartz aptly coined the term to describe the paradoxical nature of abundant options—a phenomenon amplified in today's digital age. In Schwartz's words, “Logic suggests that having options allows people to select precisely what makes them happiest. But, as studies show, abundant choice often makes for misery.”

With each notification, email, and social media update, the pressure mounts, leaving us paralyzed amidst a plethora of possibilities. That's symptomatic of the Tyranny of Choice.

So, where does this leave us? In a perpetual state of unrest, it seems. With every missed opportunity to connect or engage, the weight of unfulfilled intentions grows heavier. The desire to care is there, but the capacity? Limited.

Even with advancements in time management and productivity, the struggle persists. We've honed our efficiency, squeezed more out of the day, but still find ourselves falling short. The index of labor productivity may rise, but so does the demand on our emotional bandwidth.

With due credit to Covey, Jobs and LLMs, we have (largely) overcome time poverty, but here we are starting at this new foe: a poverty of caring. It's supply and demand. The demands on our care are exploding, yet our supply - our capacity to care - remains fixed, limited. This is new ground, where every decision can feel more like a burden.

It's no wonder we feel overwhelmed, in an extended state of unrest.

So, what's the solution? It starts with acknowledging our limitations. We can't care for everything and everyone, no matter how much we may want to. Learning to say "No" becomes an act of self-preservation, a necessary boundary in an age of incessant demands.

But perhaps the most potent tool in our arsenal is the art of choosing wisely. By prioritizing what truly matters and letting go of the rest, we reclaim control over our time and attention. It's about making intentional decisions, aligning our actions with our values, and finding solace in the knowledge that we're doing the best we can.

In a world where caring knows no bounds, it's time to redefine our relationship with time and choice. Let's navigate this modern conundrum with clarity, compassion, and a healthy dose of self-forgiveness. After all, the most precious gift we can give is our presence—let's ensure it's given where it matters most.