When the world feels held together by bubblegum...

Compassion fatigue does not need to be the inevitable outcome.

One of the questions that I ask guests in Curious Chat is, “When you dismiss something as "uninteresting", do you then take a minute to reflect on why you're not curious about it?” I ask this because I’m interested in hearing how curious people respond to their own incuriosity. But I also ask it because I think it’s an important habit for each of us to adopt, and therefore it’s an idea I want to regularly inject into our broader conversations around curiosity — almost like a reminder.

Being curious doesn’t mean being interested in everything, all the time, so there will inevitably be situations where we’re simply not curious about something. Daily we make choices between A or B, and in split-seconds our brains make tiny calculations that lead us left or right. We’re often broadly aware of why we chose option A, but less often do we pause to consider why we rejected option B. In these moments, we’re given the opportunity for a quick dose of self-reflection.

Of course, I’m not suggesting that we reflect on every minuscule decision — that would be an exercise in tedium. And it’s true that sometimes our choices are dictated by outside factors such as time constraints, work responsibilities, or other commitments. But sometimes our choices are underpinned by something more deeply rooted within us, like our own unconscious biases, or false beliefs that niggle at us, yet we ultimately leave unexamined. Sometimes we aren’t even aware of what we’re processing because we’ve ceased engaging with whatever we’re passively absorbing — like when we mindlessly scroll.

There are also times when we repeatedly choose option A, over and over again — we become obsessed with option A, and simply can’t get enough of it! But then a switch flips and option A becomes boring, and it no longer sparks our curiosity in the same way it did last week. So we move on. This scenario happens most frequently with the news, and with world events; it’s why the media cycle is constantly churning, and moves on long before a story has reached its conclusion.

But what happened to our curiosity between then and now? Why did we stop being interested in option A after being completely absorbed by it initially? Ebbs and flows in our curiosity are natural, but when it’s abrupt, it can be a sign that something else is going on — fatigue. Specifically, compassion fatigue, empathy fatigue, war fatigue — pick your preferred term, they’re broadly the same. 

My guess is that you’re beginning to see this type of fatigue in your circles lately, and maybe you’re even feeling it in yourself. (Or, possibly, you have no idea what I’m talking about, in which case I can recommend this quick explainer.)

While I’m certainly not an expert, compassion fatigue is something I’ve encountered regularly during my years of working with a Lebanese nonprofit. Whether it’s been my own fatigue, the fatigue I’ve observed in colleagues (friends), or the explicitly expressed fatigue in messages we’ve received from followers, it’s something that’s rarely far from my awareness. Not in a doom-and-gloom sort of way, but simply in the sense that I listen for cues that I’m headed for compassion fatigue — much in the same way I listen for cues of hunger, or anxiety, or anything else we’re capable of perceiving in ourselves. 

I do this because I subscribe to the idea that we all have different roles to play in life. This is especially true during times of war and catastrophe, I think. We can’t all be on the frontline as first-responders, or making political decisions, but that doesn’t mean we have carte blanche to gorge ourselves on binge-able news until we burn-out as witnesses, either. We still have a responsibility. It’s imperative to keep our compassion fatigue in check because, in this moment, remaining aware of what we’re witnessing is our role.

We rarely mean to fatigue ourselves to the point of burnout. We don’t mean to end up rejecting the suffering of others, and turning our backs on atrocities. But when we can no longer manage the overwhelming despair we feel of wanting to help, yet consistently find ourselves without the right tools to help, then rejection is how our brains pacify the compassion fatigue building up inside of us. Our brain convinces us that if we stop looking at what’s causing us this inner turmoil and upset, then we’ll be okay.

The operative word in that sentence is we, as in ourselves — I will be okay. I don’t think I need to point out the incredible luxury of being able to take that position. And the problem with burnout is that, once it strikes, it doesn’t matter how many people ask you to keep caring, or plead with you to not turn away, or angrily demand you remain a witness; your brain has already made its decision, and it will not be engaging with the burnout-inducing topic anymore, and it will proceed to gloss over it anytime it reaches the periphery of your attention. 

The key, then, for those of us who are secondary witnesses to events, is to not allow ourselves to get into that destructive binge-and-reject cycle in the first place. The media and politicians thrive on this cycle, and even rely on our burnout for their own survival. To mitigate this, we absolutely must be aware of what we are, and are not, choosing to engage with anymore. Just as you listen to when you need the bathroom throughout the day, you can also listen to when you’re growing uncomfortable, apathetic, or desensitized to a topic. Learning to tune-in to our inner signals allows us to adjust and adapt our media consumption accordingly, and ensures that we remain on the right side of sane so that we can continue to play the role we’ve currently been designated. 

If you fall into the camp of thinking that you’re exempt from burnout because things are too depressing or too complex, and therefore you don’t even follow current events right now, then, in reality, it’s likely that you’re currently experiencing burnout. Rather than shrug your shoulders and move on, you can instead use this as an opportunity to ask yourself some questions. Are there ways you can engage with current events that don’t currently depress you? Can you find resources to make a subject feel less overwhelmingly complex right now? With the endless resources at our fingertips these days, the answer to these questions is unequivocally yes! There is no one-size-fits-all way of educating ourselves, and remaining aware. So use your curiosity to direct you to alternative ways of engaging with current events that will work for you, and that will allow you to be the witness the world will always need you to be. 

The binge-and-reject cycle of media consumption is not a model that serves us as individuals, nor the people who desperately rely on our continued awareness for their survival. The absolute bare minimum we can all do is check-in with ourselves regularly to ensure that we’re aware of why we’re rejecting what we’re rejecting, and ensuring that we’re not glutinously fatiguing ourselves unnecessarily. Compassion fatigue does not need to be the inevitable outcome of world events, and we are all capable of smarter consumption habits that will break the cycle. Being able to absorb and react to the world around us for the long-haul is vital. And regularly questioning your incuriosity (not just your curiosity) is a good place to start.