Empathy's Eclipse: How Our Cold Hearts Are Speeding Us Toward the Fourth Turning
In a world of endless scrolls and echo chambers, we're losing the one thing that could pull us back from the brink—compassion for each other.
Last week, I was grabbing coffee at a national chain coffee shop in my area when I overheard a heated exchange at the counter. A barista, clearly frazzled, mixed up a customer’s order—simple mistake, happens all the time. But the guy in line didn’t let it slide; he unleashed a tirade about “incompetent kids” and stormed out, leaving the young worker near tears. No pause, no understanding, just venom. I quietly walked up to the other side of the counter and quietly said, “that guy is an asshole, you’re doing a great job.” As I drove home to Joe and the boys, it hit me hard: this snap-to-judgment attitude is everywhere, turning small errors into battlegrounds. It’s not just bad manners—it’s a sign we’re racing toward the chaos of Strauss and Howe’s The Fourth Turning: An American Prophecy - What the Cycles of History Tell Us About America's Next Rendezvous with Destiny [7]. If you haven’t read The Fourth Turning yet, I highly suggest it. It’ll make you feel more informed while also freaking you out slightly about what happens next.
Strauss and Howe's theory isn't some crystal-ball gimmick; it's a roadmap of how Anglo-American history cycles every 80-100 years in four "turnings": a High of rebuilding, an Awakening of cultural upheaval, an Unraveling of individualism, and the Fourth Turning—a brutal crisis that reshapes society [9]. Think Great Depression and WWII for the last one. We're smack in the middle of ours now—kicked off around 2008 with the financial crash [8]—and it's marked by institutional decay, polarization, and a desperate scramble for renewal. But here's the accelerant: our collective empathy deficit. When we stop seeing "the other" as human, crises don't simmer—they explode.
The Empathy Drought: What's Drying Us Up
Studies paint a grim picture: empathy’s been tanking for decades, with college students showing a 40% drop since the 1980s, a trend Sara Konrath’s research at Indiana University has tracked with alarm [0]. A 2025 Compassion Report echoes this, noting 61% of Americans feel compassion has declined over the last four years [10]. KQED’s Hanna Rosin nails it: we’re increasingly practicing selective empathy, caring only for those who share our politics or tribe, which chips away at civil society itself [1]. Sherry Turkle, in Reclaiming Conversation, argues our screen-saturated lives are killing real talk—the kind that builds empathy—replacing it with shallow digital interactions that leave us isolated [11]. Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation doubles down, linking smartphone overuse to a mental health crisis in kids, with anxiety and depression spiking since 2010, further eroding their capacity for compassion [3]. Here’s why this is happening:
Social Media's Rage Machine: Platforms reward outrage over understanding, amplifying selective empathy by design. Rosin points to cases like Ammon Bundy, whose 2018 plea for compassion toward migrant caravans was met with a “swift and rageful” backlash from his own followers, showing how social media punishes crossing tribal lines [5]. Turkle adds that our constant texting and scrolling—especially among kids—replaces face-to-face conversations that teach us to read emotions and connect deeply, making us less likely to care about “the other” [11].
Polarization's Poison Pill: Red vs. blue isn't just politics; it's a worldview war where "they" become enemies, not neighbors. Rosin notes this shift away from the “walk-a-mile-in-someone’s-shoes” empathy of the past—think 1970s pen-pal programs with Soviet kids—toward a culture where we demonize the other side [1]. Haidt’s data shows this is worse for Gen Z, raised on smartphones, who face a “great rewiring” that prioritizes tribal loyalty over broad compassion, dulling care for future generations' pain [3].
Narcissism's Quiet Rise: As empathy dips, self-focus surges—think influencer culture where likes trump listening. Konrath’s data shows young people increasingly agree with statements like “It’s not my problem if others are in trouble,” a stark contrast to past decades [4]. Haidt ties this to the smartphone era, where kids spend hours curating online personas, leaving less time for real-world relationships that build empathy [3]. Some youth show compassion rebounds, but the trend’s toward me-first.
How This Fuels the Fourth Turning Fire
In Strauss-Howe's cycle, the Fourth Turning thrives on unraveling trust—when institutions crumble because we can't (or won't) connect human-to-human [8]. Selective empathy, as Rosin warns, is a wrecking ball: it turns policy fights into riots, online trolls into real-world hate, and leaders into exploiters of division instead of builders of bridges [1]. Turkle’s research shows that without real conversation, we lose the emotional skills to bridge divides [11], while Haidt warns that anxious, disconnected kids grow into adults less equipped to handle societal stress [3]. We’ve seen it and it’s snowballing toward that decisive crisis where everything old gets torched for something new [7]. Empathy isn't fluff; it's the glue. Lose it, and society's mood sours into winter, fast.
Building Empathy, One Neighbor at a Time
If you're nodding along to this empathy drought we’ve been talking about—and especially if you're here in Cherokee County like me—let's not just gripe about it. Let's roll up our sleeves and do something real. After all, the Fourth Turning doesn't have to be all doom and gloom; it's our chance to rebuild with heart. Here's my suggestion on how you can spark compassion in your own backyard, starting small but stacking up big.
Start with the Coffee Counter (or Your Front Porch)
Next time you're at that national chain—or better yet, a local spot like Bizarre Coffee—catch the eye of the barista or the fella next to you and ask, "How's your day going?" Not the weather chit-chat, but the real deal. Share a story from your own frazzled morning—like the time my blood sugar crashed mid-grocery run, and I snapped at a cashier before catching myself. It's that simple pause that turns a stranger into a story, reminding us we're all just trying to get through the day without spilling our latte. I've done this with neighbors over fence chats, and it flips the script from suspicion to "Hey, you're just like me."
Join the Table—or Host One
We're launching that new conversation group here in Cherokee County soon, aimed at hashing out the tough stuff without the tribal yelling. If you're in, shoot me an email at dan@thrailkill.us to get on the list. Can't make it? Host your own—invite folks from different sides of the aisle for a no-phones conversation. Listen twice as much as you talk, and watch the walls come down. As Sherry Turkle says, real talk is the empathy gym; skip it, and we all get flabby at connecting [11].
Teach the Kids (and Yourself) to Look Up
With Jonathan Haidt's warnings ringing in my ears [3], I'm doubling down on screen-free zones at home—dinner table’s sacred ground. Take the boys to Cherokee Classical Academy’s harvest festival or a YPOW meeting, and encourage them to ask questions of folks who don't look or vote like us. Volunteer together at a local food bank or the Cherokee County Animal Shelter; nothing builds a soft heart like seeing someone's struggle up close. And hey, model it: next polarized post on your feed? Hit pause, then call a friend across the divide for a beer instead of blasting away.
These aren't grand gestures—they're the daily grit that glues us back together. Radical empathy starts local, in the aisles of Publix or the bleachers at a River Ridge High football game.
My unCommon Sense
Thomas Sowell nailed it: moral superiority blinds us to facts and each other, and selective empathy is its twin, locking us into tribes that can’t see past their own noses [5]. But we can fight back—start small, like putting down the phone for a real talk at family dinner or listening to someone you disagree with. For my boys, I'm modeling empathy daily, teaching them to look up from screens and see people, not pixels. If we don't rebuild it now, the Fourth Turning won't just reshape America; it'll break us first [7]. Radical empathy’s the 2025 trend we need—let’s lean in.
We’re kicking off a new group in Cherokee County soon to keep tough conversations going and build a stronger community. If this resonates or rubs you wrong, drop me a line at dan@thrailkill.us. Coffee or beer to unpack it? I'm all ears.
Have a good one,
Dan
I really appreciate your columns- especially this one. To quote Aretha, " All we need is a little respect" and I am not seeing much of it on either side. Thanks for injecting some reason and respect into the discourse.