First, a confession, empathy is not my spiritual gift. I have empathy, and can relate to the pain and suffering of others, but it isn’t my first reaction to situations. Perhaps this is why I can write seemingly nonstop about subjects like vicious crimes, lynchings, rape, and injustice, without it tearing apart my soul. I can recognize something intellectually, without being emotionally incapacitated.
Empathy can be considered a spiritual gift. Across religions and philosophical systems, empathy is often described as something much deeper than a personality trait. It’s framed as a capacity to perceive others' inner lives, a channel for compassion, and a way to participate in something larger than the self. That’s why people sometimes experience empathy not just as a skill, but as a calling.
Empathy isn’t Donald Trump’s spiritual gift either; in fact, it’s doubtful he has anything except a void in the part of the brain where empathy typically resides. He’s expressed his lack of empathy in many ways . Perhaps nobody has made the effort to link them together. Until now.
1. John McCain and that POW remark
When Donald Trump dismissed John McCain’s military service by saying, “I like people who weren’t captured,” it landed with a thud that reverberated far beyond politics. McCain had endured years of torture in a North Vietnamese prison camp, refusing early release so his fellow soldiers wouldn’t be left behind. Trump’s comment reduced that sacrifice to a punchline. For veterans, POW families, and anyone familiar with the cost of war, the remark felt like a deliberate stripping away of dignity. It wasn’t just a political jab; it was a moment when empathy — basic recognition of another human being’s suffering — was conspicuously absent.
2. Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria
In the aftermath of Hurricane Maria, Puerto Rico was plunged into darkness, its infrastructure shattered and its people desperate for help. When Trump arrived, instead of acknowledging the scale of the devastation, he publicly complained about the island’s impact on the federal budget and sparred with local officials. The image that defined the visit — Trump tossing paper towels into a crowd of survivors as if distributing party favors — became a symbol of disconnect. For many Puerto Ricans, the gesture felt less like leadership and more like a performance, one that trivialized the trauma unfolding around him.
3. Charlottesville and “very fine people on both sides”
After the deadly white supremacist rally in Charlottesville, the nation was raw with grief and anger. A young woman had been killed by a neo‑Nazi who drove his car into a crowd of counter‑protesters. In that moment, many expected a president to offer moral clarity. Instead, Trump insisted there were “very fine people on both sides,” a statement that blurred the line between those marching with torches and those standing against them. Critics argued that the remark failed to acknowledge the pain of the victim’s family and the fear felt by communities targeted by hate groups. The country was looking for empathy and found equivocation.
4. Mocking a reporter with a disability
At a 2015 rally, Trump reenacted a moment involving journalist Serge Kovaleski by flailing his arms and contorting his body in a way that resembled Kovaleski’s congenital joint condition. The clip spread quickly, drawing condemnation from disability advocates and parents of disabled children who saw in it a casual cruelty. Trump denied he was mocking the reporter’s disability, but the visual had already done its work. For many, it was a stark example of how easily he could turn another person’s physical reality into material for ridicule, without regard for the broader community watching.
5. Family separations at the border
When the administration implemented a policy that separated migrant children from their parents at the U.S.–Mexico border, the images were wrenching: toddlers crying in detention centers, parents deported without their children, families left in bureaucratic limbo. Asked about the emotional toll, Trump often framed the policy as a necessary deterrent, a negotiating tool, or a problem inherited from others. What was missing from his public statements was any acknowledgment of the trauma inflicted on the children themselves. The absence of that recognition became part of the story, raising questions about how empathy factored into decisions with such profound human consequences.
6. Remarks about the Khan family
During the 2016 campaign, Khizr and Ghazala Khan — parents of Army Captain Humayun Khan, who was killed in Iraq — spoke at the Democratic National Convention about their son’s service and their family’s sacrifice. Trump responded by questioning why Mrs. Khan had remained silent onstage, suggesting she “wasn’t allowed to speak.” For many Gold Star families, the comment crossed a line. It shifted attention away from a fallen soldier’s memory and toward an insinuation about a grieving mother’s motives. The backlash reflected a broader sentiment: that empathy for the bereaved should transcend politics.
7. His comments on the death of Rob Reiner
After filmmaker Rob Reiner and his wife were found murdered, Trump issued a Truth Social post that mixed perfunctory condolences with a political attack. He suggested the deaths were “reportedly due to the anger he caused others” through what he called “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” The framing drew swift criticism for its insensitivity — turning a homicide into a rhetorical weapon and centering himself in a moment of tragedy. For many observers, it was another instance where empathy gave way to grievance, even in the face of violent loss.
Leadership without empathy doesn’t simply create a colder workplace or a harsher political climate — it reshapes the entire emotional architecture of a community, an organization, or a nation. When leaders cannot or will not recognize the inner lives of the people they influence, the consequences ripple outward in ways that are both predictable and deeply damaging. Empathy isn’t a soft skill; it’s a stabilizing force. Remove it, and the structure begins to warp. I’m sure Trump will not understand the lives of others; I believe that he cannot. It is beyond his comprehension.
At the most basic level, leaders who lack empathy struggle to build trust. People may follow them out of fear, obligation, or transactional necessity, but not out of genuine belief. Trust requires the sense that a leader sees you — your needs, your fears, your aspirations — and takes them seriously. Without that recognition, followers learn to protect themselves rather than collaborate. They withhold information, avoid vulnerability, and operate in survival mode. Over time, this erodes the connective tissue that makes collective effort possible. Trump uses fear to motivate others as the trust is long gone.
A second consequence is the normalization of cruelty. When leaders show no concern for others' suffering, it signals that such suffering is acceptable—or worse, irrelevant. This can manifest in small ways, such as dismissive comments or public ridicule, or in large-scale decisions that disregard the human cost. In environments shaped by empathy‑deficient leadership, people begin to mimic the tone set at the top. Harshness becomes a currency. Compassion becomes a liability. The culture shifts toward defensiveness, competition, and emotional withdrawal.
Suzy Wiles, now serving as White House chief of staff, told Vanity Fair that she was “initially aghast” when Elon Musk — placed in charge of the Department of Government Efficiency — rapidly dismantled the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). This reaction is documented in multiple sources. She added that anyone who had paid attention to USAID’s work knew the agency “did very good work.” Wiles had empathy, but let fear or some other priority supersede it.
Decision‑making also deteriorates. Empathy is not just about kindness; it’s a form of intelligence. It allows leaders to anticipate how their choices will affect real people, which in turn helps them foresee resistance, unintended consequences, and moral hazards. Leaders who lack empathy often misread situations because they cannot imagine perspectives other than their own. They may double down on failing strategies, escalate conflicts unnecessarily, or create policies that look efficient on paper but collapse in practice because they ignore human behavior. The result is instability — a cycle of crisis management rather than thoughtful governance.
Another outcome is the rise of resentment. People can endure hardship if they believe their leaders understand the burden and share it. What they cannot endure is indifference. When leaders appear unmoved by loss, grief, or injustice, followers interpret it as contempt. This breeds anger, alienation, and eventually opposition. In political contexts, it can fracture coalitions and deepen polarization. In organizational settings, it leads to burnout, turnover, and disengagement. Resentment is the natural response to feeling unseen. Trump has never shared the pain others experience with the economy of having relatives deported with no notification. Trump building a ballroom is like Marie Antoinette letting the people eat cake
Leadership without empathy also distorts accountability. Empathetic leaders recognize when they’ve caused harm and take responsibility because they can feel the weight of their actions on others. Leaders without empathy tend to externalize blame. Mistakes become someone else’s fault. Criticism becomes an attack. This creates an environment where honesty is punished, and sycophancy is rewarded. Problems go unaddressed because acknowledging them would require acknowledging the people affected.
Finally, the absence of empathy hollows out the leaders themselves. Empathy is a bridge — a way of staying connected to the world beyond one’s own ego. Leaders who lack it often become isolated, surrounded by people who fear them, flatter them, but do not challenge them. Watch a Trump Cabinet meeting and match the behavior of cabinet members with the previous sentence. This isolation breeds paranoia, impulsiveness, and a distorted sense of self. Without the grounding influence of human connection, power becomes its own justification.
In the end, leadership without empathy produces systems that are brittle, anxious, and morally adrift. It may achieve short‑term victories through force or spectacle, but it cannot sustain loyalty, stability, or hope. Empathy is not a luxury in leadership; it is the quiet infrastructure that holds everything else together.