"Who gets to have our empathy? Hitler or one’s wife? The living or the dead? Those near to us or far? Those who resemble and agree with us, or those who don’t?

"Who gets to have our empathy? Hitler or one’s wife? The living or the dead? Those near to us or far? Those who resemble and agree with us, or those who don’t? The one or the many? And when it comes to art, as Knausgaard rhetorically asks, “Is it not more important to engage with our neighbor, who after all is real, rather than with one who exists only in a work of fiction?” I look at empathy not as a resource but as a muscle. Practicing empathy means cultivating a heart that emits it. Empathy should be directed at those you encounter, as you encounter them (or more precisely, those who stand to be affected by your actions). Works of fiction that inspire empathy for imaginary characters are training this muscle. “In giving our tears to these fictions, we have satisfied all the rights of humanity without having to give anything more of ourselves; whereas unfortunate people in person would require attention from us, relief, consolation, and work, which would involve us in their pains and would require at least the sacrifice of our indolence.” Empathy without action is inert, yes, but action without empathy is at best blind idealism, deaf to the effects it has on real souls, which has been the source of a large portion of history's evils. One could just as easily say that a compass on its own doesn't propel you towards any goal. But a vehicle, pointed directly towards its destination and lacking a steering wheel, is worse. As with most this-vs-that arguments, this essay is a banal oversimplification: both things are important. I don't know why that's so hard for people to accept.