I'm not proud to admit it.. but if it were possible for bugs retaliate -- to take tit for tat, etc,... I'd be less inclined to step on them and more inclined to leave them alone. As it stands right now, I can do whatever I want to them and they can't do anything about it. That does influence how I treat them -- as sleazy as that probably makes me look. And on a grander scale, if there were some cosmic "payback" awaiting me for my actions (although I don't think there is) then my karma toward bugs is well beyond negative.

You're referring to empathy aren't you? — TheMadFool

Perhaps.

Empathy is still a relatively new word with a rather tortuous history. Apparently the word entered English around 1908 as a translation for a German term coined in 1858 to describe an alleged process by which a perceiver "projects" their personality into a work of art or other perceptual object. That's just about opposite to how the word's most commonly used today. Evidently the translation borrowed from Greek, but abused the original meaning of the Greek term.

I've begun to avoid the term in my own discourse in light of this confusion. In most contexts sympathy works as well or better. By and large, psychological studies that purport to be studies of empathy could be as fittingly or more fittingly described as studies of sympathy. Someone should notify the psychologists.

Ordinarily, when we "feel another's pain", aren't we just recognizing their pain while feeling something similar to their pain? I feel something while I wince at the blow landed in a boxing match I'm watching, but what I feel is not the same as what I feel when I actually get punched in the face. Even if the feelings were as similar as the taste of the same apple in two mouths, is there some reason to suppose that I'm feeling their pain, instead of just feeling a pain that is very much like theirs?

It seems to me that sympathy works just fine to describe such fellow feeling. I'm not sure what any neologism might add to our language in this regard, besides confusion.

Notice however, that when you put yourself in the other person's shoes, you're simulating tit for tat? How would I feel if the other person treated me the same way I'm treating him (the golden rule) is just another way of saying what if the other person could pay me back in the same coin? — TheMadFool

I don't notice that.

When I imagine myself in another person's context, I am not necessarily imagining them reciprocating. I will not steal from them, though they may steal from me. I will seek to apply the golden rule in my actions with them, though they may decline to apply the golden rule in their actions with me. Depends on the fellow and on the context.

When I imagine myself in another nonhuman animal's context in order to apply the golden rule, I do not imagine them reciprocating, because I presume they cannot reciprocate in the relevant way.

Of course some nonhuman animals have sympathetic feelings and perform actions motivated by sympathetic feelings. I'm strongly inclined to doubt that bugs have the relevant sort of sympathetic feelings for creepy things like us.

To be clear, when I say in this connection "I imagine myself in another's context" I mean to include both their "internal" and "external" context. I don't imagine myself as me in their outward circumstances. I imagine what it would be like to be them in their outward circumstances.

I think some such adjustment for context and interpersonal differences must attend application of the golden rule. Lest the applier become a self-absorbed and overbearing boor: Since I eat meat, everyone gets meat. Since I love rough play, everyone gets rough play. Since I love to have my beliefs and usages incessantly challenged at dinner parties, everyone gets their beliefs and usages challenged at dinner parties….

Surely that's not consistent with the original intention of the moral principle in question.

A great part of the utility of the golden rule is that it prompts us to engage in imaginative acts in which we exercise our powers of compassion, sympathy, and interpersonal understanding while considering a range of prospective actions. Even when we suppose the other is unwilling or unable to reciprocate.

Perhaps.

Empathy is still a relatively new word with a rather tortuous history. Apparently the word entered English around 1908 as a translation for a German term coined in 1858 to describe an alleged process by which a perceiver "projects" their personality into a work of art or other perceptual object. That's just about opposite to how the word's most commonly used today. Evidently the translation borrowed from Greek, but abused the original meaning of the Greek term.

I've begun to avoid the term in my own discourse in light of this confusion. In most contexts sympathy works as well or better. By and large, psychological studies that purport to be studies of empathy could be as fittingly or more fittingly described as studies of sympathy. Someone should notify the psychologists. — Cabbage Farmer

Let's not complicate matters by digging into the etymological roots of words but thanks anyway for the links. Now, kindly tell me the difference between empathy and sympathy in terms of their conventional meaning, as they appear in normal discourse.

Ordinarily, when we "feel another's pain", aren't we just recognizing their pain while feeling something similar to their pain? I feel something while I wince at the blow landed in a boxing match I'm watching, but what I feel is not the same as what I feel when I actually get punched in the face. Even if the feelings were as similar as the taste of the same apple in two mouths, is there some reason to suppose that I'm feeling their pain, instead of just feeling a pain that is very much like theirs? — Cabbage Farmer

As far as I know, there really is no way of actually experiencing another person's feelings. We can only imagine what someone must be going through but of course this is shaped by personal experience and other relevant data. Reason, it seems, plays a major role in empathy and sympathy.

I don't notice that. — Cabbage Farmer

Me too until I did that is.

For instance, it may be enough for the agent to consider questions like, how would I want to be treated if I were a bug; or, what would it be like for me to be treated thus if I were a bug? To extend the reasoning I offered above: If you happen to suppose bugs aren't sentient, then you might conclude it wouldn't "be like" anything for you to be treated any way whatsoever if you were a bug; or if you suppose bugs are only "marginally sentient", there may be room for you to infer or expect that if you were a bug you wouldn't be capable of having a significant objection to having the life swiftly crushed out of you. — Cabbage Farmer

That paragraph comes really close to describing how I've looked at it. If I were the size and form of an ant but retained all my current senses and intellect, then sure: I'd pray never to be discovered by someone like me, knowing what I'm inclined to do to anthills I encounter. But if I had the intellect and awareness of an ant, as well as their form... probably I wouldn't object to being swiftly crushed because I would have no concept of it.

As stated, however, the golden rule is much more relevant when there's a chance of payback.. but perhaps also if intelligence and perception remains to scale even if size doesn't. There was an old episode of the Twilight Zone I saw in which an astronaut discovered a planet populated by tiny people. To them, he was an absolute giant, and to motivate them to obey his commands, he would periodically step on their towns.


I have to admit that if I were certain no one would ever find out or punish me for it, I could easily see myself fulfilling the role of the dominant oppressor, if I were in that situation. Although I'd be nowhere near as psychotic as that character (who was truly a raving power-mad lunatic, if you've seen that TZ episode) I would still very much sink my teeth into the opportunity to play god. As a giant, I could think of all sorts of unpleasant tasks to make the tiny people carry out for no other reason than to menace and subjugate them. At the very least, I'd crush their military. I wonder: is this inclination "evil" or just personal fallibility?

I have to admit that if I were certain no one would ever find out or punish me for it, I could easily see myself fulfilling the role of the dominant oppressor, if I were in that situation. Although I'd be nowhere near as psychotic as that character (who was truly a raving power-mad lunatic, if you've seen that TZ episode) I would still very much sink my teeth into the opportunity to play god. As a giant, I could think of all sorts of unpleasant tasks to make the tiny people carry out for no other reason than to menace and subjugate them. At the very least, I'd crush their military. I wonder: is this inclination "evil" or just personal fallibility? — IanBlain

I suppose this is a special variation on the theme illustrated by discussion of the legend of the Ring of Gyges in Book Two of Plato's Republic.

Are you likewise disposed to commit all sorts of crimes in this world, to steal from other humans, to torture nonhuman animals, and so on -- whenever you believe you can escape detection and punishment?

As ↪TheMadFool
stated, however, the golden rule is much more relevant when there's a chance of payback.. but perhaps also if intelligence and perception remains to scale even if size doesn't. — IanBlain

As I've indicated previously, I don't believe that reciprocity makes the golden rule more relevant as a moral principle in general. The golden rule doesn't require us to consider reciprocity as a condition of application. In at least some traditional contexts, agents are encouraged to apply it even when they believe reciprocity will not be forthcoming.

Morality aside, considerations of reciprocity do make the golden rule more relevant as a prudential principle. Even selfish monsters with no moral compass might realize they have some practical incentives to apply the golden rule in some circumstances -- but not in all circumstances, as you and Plato rightly note.

Let's not complicate matters by digging into the etymological roots of words but thanks anyway for the links. Now, kindly tell me the difference between empathy and sympathy in terms of their conventional meaning, as they appear in normal discourse. — TheMadFool

Etymology remains an instructive guide to good usage for good speakers. Clear thinking is promoted by clear speech. I'm aware that etymological considerations are unfashionable. So are clarity, good sense, and reasonable discourse.

Etymology aside, the difference between the two terms in their common use is suggested by the custom of reserving a special position in the language for "empathy" -- as if empathy were something other than sympathy, or perhaps a special sort of sympathy. Occasionally this custom is reinforced when people explicitly emphasize that they have empathy, not plain old sympathy, in mind. I'm not sure what their distinction is supposed to mean. Often it seems that people suppose or suggest there is some special power of "feeling another person's feeling". Many college freshman begin to use the word "empathy" as if they've learned about a new sort of experience or attitude, not merely acquired a synonym for "sympathy"; and in some cases the habit persists for the rest of their lives without a second thought.

As I've already noted, it seems to me that in most or all cases, "sympathy" does a fine job of referring to experiences in which a person recognizes another's feeling and feels a similar -- but not identical -- feeling in response to or as part of that recognition. Given the appropriateness of the term "sympathy" for such cases, and the confusions I detect in historical and current use of the term "empathy", I prefer to avoid the neologism in my own discourse, as both superfluous and misleading.

As far as I know, there really is no way of actually experiencing another person's feelings. We can only imagine what someone must be going through but of course this is shaped by personal experience and other relevant data. Reason, it seems, plays a major role in empathy and sympathy. — TheMadFool

In fact I believe there are "sympathetic feelings", as suggested by reports of "sympathy pains" and mirror neurons, for instance. Moreover, there is a trivial sense in which we do perceive other people's feelings -- in about the same ways we perceive the brightness of the sun or the backfiring of an engine.

Of course I agree that reason and imagination, including reflection on the history of our own personal experience, play a crucial role in our understanding of others.

But where does this lead our conversation about bug killing? Weren't we talking about the golden rule? Do you agree with what I've said so far about the irrelevance of expectations about reciprocity in applications of the golden rule, and specifically in deliberations about the treatment of nonhuman animals, including bugs?

Me too until I did that is. — TheMadFool

Would you care to account for this observation of yours, in light of what I've said so far about reciprocity and the golden rule?

I've yet to notice anything in what you've said that might support your claim.

I can appreciate a distinction between the two words, and I believe both are useful.

Someone crying during a film is a pretty raw and pure example of empathy and not sympathy. The person crying isn't feeling bad for the fictional character who experiences a tragedy. That would be sympathy. They aren't grieving for a fictional loss, which would also be closer to sympathy.

Rather, they are imagining what is going on in the fictional character's head at the time they see them expressing their distress on screen, almost as if it were going on in their own head. They are simulating the same feeling as the person crying and as a result, they also cry with the character on screen. That's empathy. Another example would be feeling distress over witnessing or even imagining a dog being abused in a very painful way.

In contrast, sympathy regards people's upset in a "sucks to be you" or "I get that" way. It's acknowledgement of other's distress, even understanding of it, but not necessarily getting into the head of the creature experiencing the distress.