Cultivating Empathy in Children through Cultural Education
Recently, I found myself getting extremely disturbed by two pieces of news related to children and adolescents. Generally, we feel bad when we hear or read about abuse and violence projected upon minors but this time, the malice had been inflicted by them.
A New York Times article from July 6 titled “Students Target Teachers in Group TikTok Attack, Shaking Their School” mentions a certain Great Valley Middle School in Malvern, Pennsylvania, where seventh and eighth graders had created fake TikTok accounts of a quarter of the school’s faculty “rife with paedophilia innuendo, racist memes, homophobia and made-up sexual hookups among teachers.” Horrified at the harassment, the teachers were worried about how the social media platforms were stunting the growth of empathy in students.
Next, I discovered the write-up “Why Nazi slogans and xenophobia appeal to rick kids” (May 27) on the English-language German media platform DW—discussing a 15-second video shot on the posh northern German island of Sylt, in which half a dozen wealthy young people are seen doing Hitler salutes and singing, “Germany for the Germans, foreigners out.” In reaction, the German Interior Minister Nancy Faeser and other politicians commented that the perpetrators may be wealthy individuals who experienced neglect as children and now “trample on the values in our Basic Law.”
Following the circulation of the video, the term “Wohlstandsverwahrlosung” was shared around, which refers to “rich children who grow up in a world full of material abundance, have unlimited options, never experience pressure to secure their own livelihood and end up being neglected by their parents. As adults, they display a sense of entitlement to a higher social standing, their wealth allowing them to follow their every whim without having to fear consequences or take responsibility.”
Both the incidents made me think about what was missing in the education and upbringing of these young people that had led to this lack of sensitivity towards the humanity of others—and how those in the arts and culture could fill that gap.
When I think of my childhood and my own ability to experience what we call “empathy”, certain classroom moments stand out. One among them is my encounter with a chapter in my English textbook titled “Rosa Parks Sat Still”. As a 10-year-old, when I first read those words and saw the illustrations of a rather straight-faced woman seated in a bus, I thought the lesson would end in something hilarious. But soon I heard—from an extraordinary teacher—the terms “racial segregation” and the “civil rights movement”. The Rosa Parks (1913-2005) here—a Black American female—had refused in the year 1955, as was the rule in those days, to rise and offer her seat to an incoming white person and retreat to the back of the bus. This episode of bus boycott in the town of Montgomery, Alabama, I learnt, was an historic event of civil obedience and socio-political protest. Behind Rosa Parks’ act of defiance was immense humiliation and indignation—which I could very well feel at that instant and that age.
Beyond the classroom, a great resource that allowed me to go deep into narratives and understand a variety of human experiences was Reader’s Digest—carrying stories from all over the world with excellent photography. Therein I encountered an adventurer’s courage, an astronaut’s perseverance, stardom, adoption, cancer, deception, female genital mutilation. A whole mix of pain, grief, achievement and fame.
If I could, at home or in school, get immersed in these stories it was—in great part—owing to the fact that there were fewer distractions back then. The internet was available in the late 90s and early-to-mid 2000s but we were not constantly attached to it. And to use it, we had to take the time to put on one big computer—which, once shut down, wouldn’t be put on again all that soon. In contrast, kids and teens today have access to multiple portable devices at perpetual connectivity with apps that do not prioritise their mental well-being, emotional or intellectual advancement in the way they are designed. There are studies pointing that the Gen Z attention span is only 8 seconds.
The very first responsibility then of a parent or educator who is serious about helping minors develop a sense of understanding and compassion towards others is to create an environment where the processing of meaningful information is possible. That will mean proactively limiting access to personal digital devices and controlling screen time.
It will also, concurrently, mean that significant consideration be given to the design and arrangement of physical interiors. The itch to pick up a phone or a tablet will always be intense—it has to be defeated by the offer of concrete alternatives, items and objects that are attractive and can be touched or held. This means good furniture, books, stationery.
Next, how may be children and teens be introduced to art? I believe the more important question here would be what kind of art can be attention-grabbing and engrossing for them? That which is full of vibrance and vigour—and can communicate difficult themes in a way that isn’t boring or dull. A suitable example that I have found is the painting above by Chéri Samba (born 1956) from the Democratic Republic of Congo raising questions regarding Belgian colonial rule over—and continued involvement in—the central African region in a dynamic manner. Expressions of this nature can turn out to be an effective starting point for an individual just beginning to develop their faculty of art appreciation, which, hopefully can expand over time to acknowledge a creative corpus that is more varied in style.
Written by: Tulika Bahadur
