Hierarchies of empathy

The images coming from Ukraine are heartbreaking. A father crouched over the lifeless body of his dead child in a morgue; mothers cramped in the basements of hospitals with their sick infants; terrified families packed in trains trying to reach a safer space; homes, schools and buildings charred by the evil of the modern weapons of war. We have, unfortunately, seen these scenes play out before in cities and villages in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria and Yemen. Not too long ago and not far from the centre of the current conflict, the population in Chechnya saw their lives destroyed and their cities flattened by the same jets and tanks that are in Ukraine today.

War brings out the worst of human instincts of killing, destroying and inflicting pain. But as we have seen in the last ten days, it has also brought to the fore other despicable characteristics of racism and exclusion. The reporting by many in the western media has unveiled their racist views of the world. Many pundits and reporters are surprised at the events, because war was only supposed to happen in uncivilised countries of Asia and Africa. Some are concerned for the refugees because of their religion or colour of the skin. It is not just the media that has shown their vile bias. African, Arab and Indian students trying to flee (just like the Ukrainian citizens) are facing hostile response at the borders. The open arms of the neighbours extend only to whites fleeing conflict. One does not need to have a very long memory. Just six months ago, when the migrant crisis at the Belarus-Polish border was in full swing, the Polish border guards beat the Afghan and middle-eastern migrants with batons and the Polish Defence Minister had said, “The open-door policy led to terrorist attacks in Western Europe”. Today, nearly all of Poland is united in welcoming Ukrainians.

Our hierarchies of empathy are not simply based on race and nationality. There are other dimensions to them as well. There is a high emphasis and focus on those who are trying to flee and are at Ukrainian borders, but little mention of those who are displaced within the country. In our collective analysis and psyche those who are unable to reach the border have been written off. The internally displaced persons (IDPs) are just as (if not more) vulnerable. This is, unfortunately, not the first time we see a greater global emphasis on refugees with the internally displaced as an afterthought. The IDPs in Yemen, and the internally displaced in Afghanistan, get less attention than those who are able to reach the borders. The point, as others have argued, is not to deny any support to the vulnerable Ukrainians, but extend the same level of support, kindness, respect and empathy to all forcibly displaced. Similarly, our kindness should not end at those who are at the border already but extend to those who are unable to reach those borders.

The hierarchy of empathy is not a uniquely western phenomenon. We are practising it with fervour as well. The entire premise of our frustration on the atrocities and violation of human rights in Kashmir is that countries and institutions that know better, and should do better, choose to say silent because of convenience and self-interest. That argument is absolutely valid. However, by staying silent on the atrocities in Ukraine, aren’t we doing the exact same thing? How can we tell anyone to speak up for the rights of the people in Kashmir, when we find it hard to say the same words for Ukrainians? The right to safety, security and dignity is universal. An empathy rooted in hierarchy based on religion, skin colour, ethnicity, privilege or any other discriminatory criteria is false and only emboldens the perpetrator.

Published in The Express Tribune, March 8^th, 2022.

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