A lesson in building radical empathy with the strange.
 | By Alexandra Sifferlin Senior Staff Editor, Opinion |
When writing a book about sea animals, Sabrina Imbler, a science writer, noticed how often newly discovered creatures were described as "alien" and how often critters that seem very different from humans — a blue sea blob, a transparent-faced barreleye fish, a centipede with lots of little legs — are viewed with disgust. |
"Instead of gawking at such creatures as bizarre, I find it more fulfilling to seek connection with them across and because of our differences," Imbler writes in a recent Opinion essay. |
This becomes an argument for conservation efforts big and small. "If people care about the fate of the sea cucumber, they may act to protect the deep sea from the imminent threat of mining," Imbler writes. This rethinking might also result in smaller changes, like choosing not to squish the harmless house centipede in your bedroom. (This will be hard for me, personally.) |
Ultimately, however, Imbler is not only arguing for appreciating the creatures of the deep or for better policies to protect them, but something more profound. |
"I believe building these connections with strange, baffling or even discomfiting organisms is a practice of radical empathy you can try in your everyday life — offering openness, wonder and care toward other creatures' incomprehensibility. When you encounter a life-form so unfamiliar that you find it uninteresting or repulsive, reach inward to find glimmers of resonance," Imbler writes. |
After a contentious election and amid a continued return to life after the pandemic emergency, I find that message challenging and hopeful. Can we learn to live easier with things we "other" — no matter how perplexing or unlike us they might seem? |
I leave you with my favorite part of Imbler's essay: |
"Maybe, like a deep-sea yeti crab, you look hairy, or like a house centipede, you share a tiny apartment. Or like a city pigeon, you can trace your presence in the United States back to colonialism. |
Or maybe appreciation comes through your differences, such as the mystical ease with which a sea star regenerates an arm or an amoeba engulfs its prey. Who wouldn't envy such bodily freedom? Perhaps dwelling on these differences can incite wonder — a reminder of how many strange lives, bodies and ways of being there are on this planet." |
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