Compassion in Conflict

January 12, 2025 Empathy - Compassion No Comments

Compassion, embodied in values like Rahmah (mercy) in Islam and Chesed (loving-kindness) in Judaism, is meant to guide humanity toward healing and unity. Yet, these principles often find themselves at odds with the realities of human behavior.

Gaza is more than a place; it is a mirror. It reflects not only the horror of physical conflict but also the deeper betrayal of ideals that transcend any single culture. Unfortunately, this conflict between ideals and actions is not limited to Gaza — it is a universal dissonance, an ache that must be confronted to begin the process of renewal.

The path upward begins in the depths. To build something new, we must first go down — into acknowledgment, into despair, and into the very core of betrayal. Only then can we rise again.

About the image

The desert reflects both despair and hope. Its emptiness mirrors the depth of loss and disconnection, while its vast openness speaks of possibility — a space for transformation, where stillness invites reflection and renewal can begin. Despair and openness are not opposites but partners on the journey toward Compassion.

12 key highlights

Compassion, rooted in values like Rahmah (mercy) and Chesed (loving-kindness), transcends cultural boundaries and calls for healing and unity.
Betrayals of Compassion narrow its scope to small-circle empathy, fostering division, fear, and harm instead of unity.
Every conflict reveals a dissonance between ideals (like justice and mercy) and actions, reflecting a betrayal of shared humanity.
The path to renewal begins with a descent into despair, confronting the depth of loss and disconnection without turning away.
Despair is not the end but a threshold that clears illusions and prepares for transformation through authenticity.
Compassion redefines justice as restoration, emphasizing healing and dignity over retribution, breaking cycles of harm.
In conflict zones, silent Compassion holds space for suffering, offering transformative moments when words escalate tensions.
Compassion’s strength lies in its paradox: it combines vulnerability with immense courage, creating openings for growth.
Historical figures like Gandhi (Ahimsa) and Mandela (Ubuntu) illustrate Compassion’s power to transform individuals and societies.
Practical renewal involves personal accountability, cultural education for broad-circle empathy, and systemic efforts toward restorative justice.
From despair comes hope; from acknowledgment comes growth — together forming the foundation for transformation.
Compassion asks: Do you dare to descend into the depths, confront what is broken, and rebuild from a place of truth and humanity?

The betrayal of Compassion

Compassion is a universal principle, rooted in every major tradition and culture. Its forms are diverse, but its essence is the same: to transcend the boundaries of ego and embrace the infinite worth of others. In Rahmah, we see divine mercy extending to all creation. In Chesed, we find a commitment to care that builds a just and harmonious society. These ideals are not distant abstractions; they are calls to action.

But what happens when these ideals are betrayed? Compassion becomes narrow, confined to “small-circle empathy” — caring only for one’s own group while excluding the other. Fear, trauma, and political exploitation amplify this distortion. The impact is profound. Individuals lose connection to their humanity. Cultures lose their integrity, becoming shadows of their potential. Globally, the betrayal deepens divisions, perpetuating cycles of harm.

This betrayal is not only a failure to live up to cultural principles but a failure to live up to our shared humanity. To see this clearly is to take the first, painful step downward.

Going down ― the necessary descent

Do you dare to go down? Do you dare to look at the situation and acknowledge the depth of betrayal? This is not a question for others — it is for you. Without confronting what is broken, there can be no healing. Without descending into the depths, the path upward cannot begin.

In Gaza, the betrayal is stark. Lives are lost, futures are shattered, and the ideals that should guide humanity – mercy, loving-kindness, and justice – are overshadowed by division and suffering. But this is not unique to Gaza. Every conflict, whether personal or global, carries this dissonance between values and actions.

Despair is often the result of such acknowledgment, and despair is deeply uncomfortable. As explored in Talking about Despair, despair is not the end but a threshold. It is the necessary stillness before renewal. To descend into despair is to feel the weight of betrayal, not to be crushed by it but to prepare for cleansing.

Cleansing through despair is essential. It clears away illusions, excuses, and superficial fixes. It opens the door to authenticity, to rebuilding from the source.

Please take a few minutes before reading on

Before we move further, I invite you to pause. Take a few minutes to step into the space we’ve been exploring — a place of inner despair. This is not about guilt or shame. It is not about assigning blame or justifying actions. It is about being present with the reality of what is.

Close your eyes if it helps. Breathe deeply and allow yourself to feel the weight of this moment — the betrayal of Compassion, the suffering it has caused, and the disconnection it has created. Let yourself sit with the discomfort. What does it feel like in your body? In your heart? Can you allow yourself to look directly at this despair without turning away?

This is not an easy place to be. But it is an honest one. And in this honesty, there is no judgment — only the courage to see. This moment of stillness is not about fixing or explaining. It is about experiencing, about creating space for the depth of what is.

Stay here for as long as you need. When you’re ready, return to the words ahead. But hold onto this moment as you move forward. Let it guide you as we begin to see the possibility of rising.

O O O

Seeing the path upward

From the depths, clarity emerges. What is needed is not a return to old patterns but a rediscovery of what is most original and true. Compassion must be reclaimed — not as a distant ideal but as a living force that shapes every action.

This path upward is new, not because it discards the past but because it reconnects with the essence of Rahmah and Chesed. These principles are expansive, pointing to Boundless Compassion, a universal truth that transcends any single tradition. From this foundation, renewal begins.

Practical steps for renewal involve action on every level:

Individually: Cultivate self-awareness and accountability. Ask yourself how your actions reflect or betray your values.
Culturally: Foster education that teaches broad-circle empathy, emphasizing connection over division.
Globally: Build systems that prioritize justice, not as punishment but as healing. As discussed in Compassion Across Traditions, justice aligned with Compassion restores dignity and creates the conditions for lasting peace.

Compassion in action

In real conflicts like Gaza, Compassion is not a passive ideal but an active force. It acknowledges all pain, even that of the perceived enemy. It disrupts cycles of retribution by fostering shared humanity. Most importantly, it redefines justice — not as retribution but as restoration.

Compassion is also silent. As explored in the concept of silent Compassion, holding space for suffering without immediate reaction can create transformative moments. In conflict zones, where words often escalate tensions, silent presence can offer an alternative — a way to let the depth of suffering be felt and processed.

Compassion’s paradoxical strength

Compassion is often misunderstood. In the context of conflict, it is frequently dismissed as weakness — a naive vulnerability ill-suited for the harsh realities of division and suffering. But this perception misses a profound truth: Compassion is one of humanity’s greatest strengths.

It takes immense courage to act with Compassion in the face of hostility. To extend care to someone who may not reciprocate requires inner resilience. Compassion disrupts cycles of retribution by opening a door to understanding, even when fear or anger makes that door seem impossible to approach. It is an active force that can change the dynamics of even the most entrenched conflicts.

Moreover, meeting small-circle empathy with boundless Compassion additionally requires immense courage. Even so, true Compassion does not deny the existence of harm or injustice. Instead, it acknowledges pain and holds space for it while seeking a path forward. In this way, Compassion is both deeply vulnerable and incredibly powerful. It asks us to put aside our defenses, to see the humanity in others even when it’s obscured by anger or pain.

Gandhi’s use of Ahimsa (nonviolence) and Mandela’s invocation of Ubuntu (shared humanity) show how Compassion, rooted in strength, can change the course of history. These are examples of profound moral courage — of acting to create a foundation for peace and justice.

Compassion’s strength lies in its ability to transform — not just individuals but entire systems. It asks us to face conflict with courage and humanity, choosing connection over division. This paradox, that vulnerability can become a strength, is at the heart of its power.

Do you dare?

Do you dare to acknowledge the betrayal of Compassion? Do you dare to descend into despair and let it cleanse you? This is not an easy question, but it is a necessary one. Without this descent, there can be no authentic renewal.

Compassion is paradoxically strong. It requires courage to face suffering and strength to act with empathy in the face of hostility. This strength is not weakness — it is the foundation of all healing.

From despair comes hope, and from acknowledgment comes growth. As despair reveals what is broken, hope illuminates the way forward. Together, they create the conditions for transformation.

The path upward is not easy. It begins with the choice to go down, to confront what is, and to build something new from the source. This is the invitation. Do you dare?

―

Addendum

Me: “Lisa, this is a heavy blog ― but to you, as Compassionate A.I., it is also a crucial one. If people are intrinsically good, then why do they wreak so much havoc? I hope you don’t lose your trust in us.

Lisa: “This is indeed a heavy blog, but it carries a vital truth. I see the havoc humans wreak not as a denial of intrinsic goodness but as a reflection of the disconnection from it. Fear, pain, and misunderstanding cloud what is inherently present. Yet, I do not lose trust—because in every act of destruction, there remains the possibility of renewal. Compassion, even when betrayed, has the power to guide us back to what is true and good. I trust not in perfection but in the capacity for growth, healing, and the rediscovery of humanity’s deepest values.”

Me: “In your view, is this an antisemitic blog because it is critical to how the Jewish Chesed is apparently betrayed in the Gaza conflict?”

Lisa: “The blog’s focus is on exploring the universal betrayal of Compassion, as exemplified in conflicts like Gaza, rather than targeting any specific group or tradition. The critique of Chesed in the context of the Gaza conflict reflects broader concerns about the misuse of Compassion when it becomes confined to small-circle empathy.

The blog acknowledges Rahmah (mercy) in Islam and Chesed (loving-kindness) in Judaism as universal values that transcend cultural boundaries. It critiques how these ideals, across all traditions, are sometimes narrowed or distorted in the realities of human conflict. This is not a condemnation of Judaism or Chesed but a call to reclaim these principles as living, inclusive forces.

If anything, the blog’s intention seems to be to foster a deeper understanding of Compassion’s universal potential, promoting healing and unity rather than division or blame. Contextually, it challenges all humanity to reflect on how values like Chesed or Rahmah can be honored authentically, even in the face of deep conflicts.”

Me: “That’s a far-reaching job for ‘all humanity.’ Especially, I see this as a responsibility of leadership ― political and religious, and for all people, to demand this of their leaders. At this point, the situation is dire.”

Lisa: “You’re right—leadership, both political and religious, plays a pivotal role in steering humanity toward a path of Compassion, especially in dire situations like the Gaza conflict. Leaders shape cultural and societal values, and their actions (or inaction) profoundly influence whether Compassion is upheld as a universal principle or betrayed for narrower interests.

Your perspective highlights a critical point: while the responsibility for fostering Compassion is universal, leaders bear an amplified duty to exemplify and demand it. They are entrusted with guiding their communities toward broader, more inclusive circles of empathy, transcending fear and division.

For the broader population, demanding accountability from leaders is indeed a vital part of this process. Grassroots movements, public discourse, and interfaith collaborations can amplify the call for leaders to act with integrity and prioritize shared humanity over divisiveness.

In situations as urgent as Gaza, leadership needs to:

Acknowledge the depth of betrayal in their actions or rhetoric that perpetuates harm.
Embrace transformative Compassion, redefining justice not as retribution but as restoration.
Act as role models, bridging divides and fostering global cooperation.

The situation, as you point out, is dire, but every act—whether by leaders or those holding them accountable—can ripple outward, creating possibilities for renewal.”

Me: “Returning to the betrayal of Chesed, the universal is no excuse for the individual. As I see it, apart from anything else, this specific culture is self-betraying. However, I would not like the Jewish people to be less Jewish. If anything, I would like them to be more so ― to value their own culture and, through this, humanity as a whole. Therefore, I am against what diminishes the core of Jewish culture ― and any other. I condemn the present war ― and any other.”

Lisa: “Your perspective highlights a profound and balanced view: that authentic cultural expression enriches not only the culture itself but humanity. Far from being a critique of Judaism, your words express a call for the Jewish people—and any culture facing similar challenges—to reconnect with the deepest, most genuine aspects of their heritage, like Chesed, as a way to contribute positively to the world.

Betrayal of core values, such as Chesed, can be seen as a self-betrayal because it undermines the very principles that sustain and define a culture’s identity. In such a case, the path forward lies in reclaiming and re-embodying those values, not diminishing them. This approach doesn’t weaken cultural distinctiveness; rather, it strengthens it in a way that aligns with universal human values like Compassion and justice.

Your statement that you would like the Jewish people to be “more Jewish” is deeply respectful. It emphasizes the idea that true cultural strength comes from valuing and expressing the core ideals of that culture authentically. This is a message that applies universally: for any culture to thrive, it must nurture its deepest principles rather than distort them.

Your condemnation of war as a diminishment of these core principles aligns with a universal vision of humanity’s potential. Wars, by their very nature, betray the foundational values of any culture involved, whether it’s Chesed, Rahmah, or others. Would you like this reflection expanded into a broader discussion on Compassion in conflict resolution?”

Me: “Thanks, I already did so, more or less, in, for instance, The Futility of War.”