The Kids Are All Right?

– Youth, Truth, and How We See Ourselves

We say it often.
Perhaps too often.

“The youth of today…”

The sentence is usually followed by a concern.
Less resilient. More anxious. Too much screen time. Too little grit.

But what if this picture isn’t true?
Or perhaps more precisely: What if it is only part of the truth?

I recently read an article in Scientific American titled “The Kids Are All Right.” It presents research pointing in a different direction than the prevailing narrative:

Today’s young people are – on average –
less violent,
less prone to risky behavior,
more tolerant,
and in many ways better at regulating themselves than previous generations.

It is a quiet, almost provocative message.

Because it does not only challenge what we think about youth.
It challenges how we form truth.

Foucault: Who Owns the Story of Youth?

Here, Michel Foucault enters the conversation.

He was not primarily concerned with what is true,
but with how something becomes true in a society.

Who has the power to define reality?
Which narratives are allowed to dominate?

When we repeatedly hear that young people are struggling more than before,
it is not necessarily because it is false—
but because certain perspectives are given more space than others.

Problems attract attention.
Concern sells.
Deviations become visible.

What works, what quietly holds everyday life together—
often remains unnoticed.

Perhaps youth have not become weaker.
Perhaps our gaze has become more problem-oriented.

Gadamer: Understanding Begins in Our Prejudices

But we cannot escape ourselves.

Hans-Georg Gadamer reminds us that we always understand the world through our pre-understandings—our “prejudices” in a neutral sense.

We do not meet young people as blank slates.
We meet them with experiences, with memories of our own youth,
and perhaps with a quiet longing for a time we believe was simpler.

When we say “things were better before,”
it is not just an observation.

It is an interpretation.

And Gadamer would say:
Understanding happens when our horizon meets that of the other—
not to win, but to expand.

Perhaps we need to meet young people anew,
not as a problem to be explained,
but as an experience to be understood.

Kierkegaard: The Individual – Beyond the Statistics

And then comes Søren Kierkegaard, quietly—but with weight.

Because in the midst of all research, all graphs and general trends,
there is always a person.

The individual.

Kierkegaard reminds us that truth is not only something we measure,
but something we live.

Yes, statistics may show that “things are getting better.”
But for the one who stands in anxiety, loneliness, or inner struggle,
this is no comfort.

Here lies a responsibility—
not to choose between optimism and pessimism,
but to hold both at once:

To see the bigger picture,
and still not lose sight of the one.

Between Concern and Trust

So where does this leave us?

Perhaps somewhere between two poles:

• A public narrative shaped by concern
• A body of research showing significant progress

Both are true.
But neither is the whole truth.

What emerges is a more demanding picture:
A generation that, in many ways, is doing well—
and at the same time carries new kinds of burdens.

And perhaps this is where our responsibility lies—
not in judging, but in understanding
not in idealizing, but in meeting

A Quiet Shift

Perhaps we need a small shift in perspective.

From:
“What is wrong with young people today?”

To:
“What are they actually managing—
and what might we learn from them?”

Closing

In meeting the younger generation, we are not only encountering something new.
We are encountering a mirror.

A mirror reflecting our own assumptions about human beings,
about development,
about what it means to live a good life.

And perhaps it is like this:

Not that young people are necessarily “better” than before.
But that they—like us—
live their lives in the tension between vulnerability and strength.

Referances

Scientific American. (2026). The kids are all right

Michel Foucault. (1972). The Archaeology of Knowledge.

Hans-Georg Gadamer. (1960). Truth and Method.

Søren Kierkegaard. (1846). Concluding Unscientific Postscript.

Practical philosophy, where life is actually lived

This text and the illustration are created in a conversation between myself and OpenAI/ChatGPT

Empathy and Compassion: Two Faces of Human Response

 Empathy and Compassion: Two Faces of Human Response

Brief Summary:

Empathy and compassion are closely related concepts, but they represent different dimensions of our relational and ethical existence. Empathy involves feeling with and understanding another person’s emotions, while compassion entails an active desire to alleviate suffering. In practical philosophy, this distinction becomes crucial for how we think about responsibility, ethics, and human interaction.

Photo from NAPHA-Nasjonal kompetansesenter for psykisk helsearbeid

Introduction

In our time, the concepts of empathy and compassion are often used interchangeably, as if they were synonymous. However, in both philosophy and psychology, it is important to distinguish between them. Empathy refers to the ability to understand and feel another person’s emotions, while compassion involves an active willingness to help and relieve suffering. This distinction has implications for ethics, education, and social life. In this text, I will explore the difference between empathy and compassion, drawing on both phenomenological and psychological perspectives, and discuss how they can be understood within practical philosophy.

The Nature of Empathy

Empathy can be described as an affective resonance with another person. When we see someone crying, we may feel sadness ourselves. Empathy can take different forms:

• Affective empathy: an immediate emotional response.
• Cognitive empathy: the ability to take another person’s perspective and understand their situation.

From a phenomenological perspective, empathy involves a form of participation in the other person’s lifeworld. Edmund Husserl and later Maurice Merleau-Ponty emphasized how empathy is a fundamental way of experiencing the other as a subject. It is not merely an intellectual exercise, but a bodily and emotional openness.

At the same time, psychological research has shown that empathy can have a shadow side. When empathy turns into emotional contagion, we may lose the distinction between our own and the other’s emotions. This can lead to exhaustion or “empathic distress.”

The Distinctiveness of Compassion

Compassion goes a step further. It is not only about feeling with someone, but about acting for them. Compassion involves:

• A recognition of another person’s suffering.
• An emotional response characterized by warmth and care.
• An active desire to alleviate or help.

Where empathy can be passive, compassion is active. It has an ethical dimension: compassion mobilizes us to act. In Buddhist philosophy, compassion is a fundamental virtue, linked to the insight into universal suffering and the wish to reduce it. In the Western tradition, we find similar ideas in Aristotle, who connected compassion to eleos—a feeling that can motivate moral action.

Philosophical Perspectives

The difference between empathy and compassion can be illuminated through three philosophical lenses:

• Phenomenology: Empathy is a way of experiencing the other, while compassion is a response that arises from this experience.
• Ethics: Empathy provides insight into another’s situation, but compassion provides the motivation to act. The ethical force lies in compassion.
• Practical philosophy: In education and social life, empathy is necessary for understanding, but compassion is necessary for solidarity and justice.

Magnus Blystad and Simen Grøgaard have shown how the concept of empathy can be understood both phenomenologically and positivistically. In a phenomenological tradition, empathy is a fundamental experience of the other as a subject. In a positivist tradition, empathy is analyzed as a psychological mechanism. Compassion, by contrast, appears as a normative category: it points toward what we ought to do.

Practical Implications

In practical philosophy, the distinction between empathy and compassion becomes particularly important in three contexts:

• Education: Teachers need empathy to understand students’ situations, but compassion to support and act.
• Healthcare: Empathy can provide insight into a patient’s pain, but compassion motivates care and treatment.
• Social life: Empathy can foster understanding across cultures, but compassion builds solidarity and justice.

Critical Reflections

It is nevertheless necessary to problematize compassion. Can compassion become paternalistic—a form of “kindness” that deprives the other of autonomy? The philosopher Martha Nussbaum has pointed out that compassion must be balanced with respect for the dignity of the other. Empathy alone may be insufficient, but compassion without reflection can become overbearing.

Conclusion

Empathy and compassion are two faces of human response. Empathy gives us insight into another’s feelings, while compassion gives us the drive to act. In practical philosophy, it is crucial to see how these concepts complement each other. Empathy without compassion may become passive, while compassion without empathy may become blind. Together, they form an ethical whole that can strengthen both the individual and society.

References for further reading

Empathy, Compassion & Psychology

Batson, C. D. (2011). Altruism in humans. Oxford University Press.
→ A foundational work distinguishing empathy from compassionate action.

Bloom, P. (2016). Against empathy: The case for rational compassion. Ecco.
→ Important critique: empathy can mislead, compassion is more ethically reliable.

Goetz, J. L., Keltner, D., & Simon-Thomas, E. (2010). Compassion: An evolutionary analysis and empirical review. Psychological Bulletin, 136(3), 351–374.
→ Clear scientific distinction between empathy and compassion.

Singer, T., & Klimecki, O. M. (2014). Empathy and compassion. Current Biology, 24(18), R875–R878.
→ Neuroscience perspective: empathy can lead to distress, compassion to resilience.

Phenomenology (your philosophical backbone)

Edmund Husserl (1989). Ideas pertaining to a pure phenomenology and to a phenomenological philosophy (Second Book). Kluwer.
→ Empathy as access to the other’s subjectivity.

Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1962). Phenomenology of perception. Routledge.
→ The body as the basis for understanding others.

Zahavi, D. (2014). Self and other: Exploring subjectivity, empathy, and shame. Oxford University Press.
→ Excellent modern interpretation of empathy in phenomenology.

Ethics and Compassion

Martha Nussbaum (2001). Upheavals of thought: The intelligence of emotions. Cambridge University Press.
→ Compassion as an ethical emotion that must respect dignity.

Aristotle (2009). Rhetoric (Book II, on eleos). Oxford University Press.
→ Classical roots of compassion as moral motivation.

Dalai Lama. (1995). The power of compassion. HarperCollins.
→ A more experiential and ethical view aligned with your tone.

Autism, Empathy & Misunderstanding

Baron-Cohen, S. (2011). Zero degrees of empathy. Penguin.
→ Influential—but debated—view on empathy in autism.

Milton, D. (2012). On the ontological status of autism: The ‘double empathy problem’. Disability & Society, 27(6), 883–887.
→ Very important: empathy difficulties are mutual, not one-sided.

Hobson, R. P. (2002). The cradle of thought. Oxford University Press.
→ Development of emotional understanding in autism.

Practical Philosophy / Applied Context

Noddings, N. (2013). Caring: A relational approach to ethics and moral education. University of California Press.
→ Care as practice—very close to your perspective.

Vetlesen, A. J. (1994). Perception, empathy, and judgment: An inquiry into the preconditions of moral performance. Penn State Press.
→ Strong link between empathy and moral action.

Optional (Nordic / Norwegian context)

Blystad, M. H., & Grøgaard, S. C. (2024). Empatiens mange ansikter. Tidsskrift for Norsk Psykologforening.

I have written this text in Norwegian and Open AI/ChatGPT has translated my text to English.

Beyond Punishment: Responsibility, Understanding and the Human Encounter

Beyond Punishment: Responsibility, Understanding and the Human Encounter

Opening: 

Over the years. I have sat with many families searching for ways to handle what feels unmanageable. Again and again, the same pattern emerges: When things become difficult, punishment enters the picture. Not always out of cruelty - but out of desperation. And yet, the outcome are rarly what we hoped for.This is where both experience and philosophy begin to point in the same direction. 

I recently read a research article in Science on punishment and cooperation. A familiar question: what makes people contribute to the common good? The answer seems obvious: punish those who don’t.But it isn’t. The research shows something more complex—perhaps even unsettling. Punishment sometimes works. Sometimes it doesn’t. And in certain situations, it makes things worse. That was when the thought returned to me: This is not new. This is Michel Foucault.

Paul-Michel Foucault 1929-1984. Photo from Wikipedia

The Question Behind the Question

In Discipline and Punish, Foucault describes how punishment has shifted over time.

From the visible punishment of the bodyto the invisible shaping of the person.

His insight is both simple and unsettling: Punishment is not primarily about responding to wrongdoing.It is about shaping human beings. And perhaps this is where we must begin. Because the research does not simply tell us that punishment “fails.” It tells us that the question itself may be too narrow.

We ask: Does punishment change behavior? But the deeper question is: What kind of human being are we trying to form?

Understanding Before Control

One of the most striking findings in the research is this: Communication works better than punishment.

At first glance, this may seem almost naïve. But it points toward something fundamental. When people are allowed to speak and to listen:

• meaning is negotiated
• perspectives are shared
• relationships begin to form

Here we move into the philosophical territory of Hans-Georg Gadamer. For Gadamer, understanding is not something we “apply” to another person. It is something that happens between us. Understanding is not control. It is participation. It requires that we risk something of ourselves—our assumptions, our certainty—in order to meet the other.

Punishment does not ask for this risk. It establishes distance. It produces compliance, perhaps. But not understanding. And without understanding, something essential is missing.

Responsibility Cannot Be Forced

This brings us to responsibility. Punishment often assumes that responsibility can be imposed from the outside. That if the consequences are strong enough, the right behavior will follow. But lived experience—and increasingly, research—suggests otherwise.

Responsibility is not something we can force into another human being. It is something that must be taken up. Here, the voice of Søren Kierkegaard becomes important. For Kierkegaard, the human being stands always as an individual before a choice. Responsibility is not given—it is chosen. And this choice cannot be made under coercion alone. It requires inwardness. It requires that the individual recognizes themselves as a self who must respond.

Punishment may pressure behavior. But it cannot create that inward movement where responsibility is born.

The Cost of Punishment

The research article mentioned above, also reminds us of something we often overlook: Punishment is costly. Not only in terms of resources, but in what it creates between people:

• resistance
• distance
• mistrust

And sometimes, escalation.

If punishment:

• consumes energy
• weakens relationships
• and does not reliably create responsibility

…then we must ask:

Why do we return to it so quickly? Perhaps because it gives us a sense of control. A sense that we are “doing something.” But control is not the same as understanding. And action is not always the same as change.

A Different Starting Point

What if we begin somewhere else?

Not with the question of how to correct behavior, but with the question of how to meet another human being. This is where Foucault, Gadamer, and Kierkegaard quietly converge:

• Foucault reminds us that systems shape people
• Gadamer reminds us that understanding happens in relation
• Kierkegaard reminds us that responsibility must be chosen

Together, they point toward something both simple and demanding: That human change does not begin with force, but with encounter.

A Personal Reflection

Through years of working with children and families, I have come to see the limits of punishment when it is rooted in pain.

What is meant to correct can instead divide.
What is meant to guide can instead wound.

I have seen children who learned to strike back. Others who withdrew—from others, from themselves.
And some who carried the pain quietly, until it shaped the course of their lives in ways no one had intended.

Punishment may create obedience for a moment. But it rarely creates understanding. And without understanding, responsibility has little ground to grow. And yet, something else is always possible.

A meeting between human beings — where one is not reduced to a problem to be fixed, but recognized as a person to be met. In that space, something shifts.

Understanding begins—not as agreement, but as a shared effort to see. Responsibility begins—not as pressure, but as a response that grows from within. Perhaps this is where real change begins. Not in the act of punishment — but in the quiet, demanding work of staying in relationship.

References

Foucault, M. (1977). Discipline and punish: The birth of the prison. Pantheon Books.

Gadamer, H.-G. (2004). Truth and method (2nd rev. ed.). Continuum. (Original work published 1960)

Kierkegaard, S. (1985). Fear and trembling. Penguin Classics. (Original work published 1843)

Fehr, E., & Gächter, S. (2002). Altruistic punishment in humans. Nature, 415(6868), 137–140.

Science. (2026, April 9). Research on punishment and cooperation. Science, 382(XXXX), 170–171.

Ostrom, E. (1990). Governing the commons: The evolution of institutions for collective action. Cambridge University Press.

With what I have lived, and what I have understood so far - I take my next step.

The text is written in a conversation with OpenAI/ChatGPT

Nothing as Something Meaningful. A reading of Heidegger in the light og Kierkegaard

 

Being Held Out into the Nothing

It is early April. Outside, spring has arrived in its quiet Nordic way—about 10 degrees Celsius, and the sun has just begun to warm the air. The light feels different now. Softer, yet more insistent.

It is 7:00 AM. I have already been sitting in my study for an hour.

In front of me lies a book I keep returning to: What Is Metaphysics? by Martin Heidegger. I have read it many times. And still—I am not finished with it. Some books are like that. They do not end. They continue to speak, but only when we are ready to listen again.

This morning, I stop at a single sentence:

“Da-sein heißt: Hineingehaltenheit in das Nichts.”

I translate it, for myself, like this:

Da-sein means: being held out into the Nothing.

And then I cannot read any further.

When a Sentence Stops You

There are moments in reading where something happens—not intellectually first, but existentially. A sentence does not just inform; it interrupts. It holds you.

This is such a moment.

What does it mean to be “held out into the Nothing”? Not thrown. Not abandoned. But held.

The word carries a tension: something both sustaining and unsettling.

And immediately, my thoughts turn to Søren Kierkegaard.

Anxiety and the Edge of Freedom

In The Concept of Anxiety, Kierkegaard—writing as Vigilius Haufniensis—offers one of the most profound insights into what it means to be human.

He draws a distinction that still feels clinically precise today:
Fear has an object. Anxiety does not.

The object of anxiety is:

Nothing.

But this “Nothing” is not emptiness in a trivial sense. It is possibility.

Kierkegaard writes that anxiety is “the reality of freedom as the possibility of possibility.” This is a remarkable formulation. It suggests that anxiety is not merely something we suffer—it is something we are exposed to as beings who are free.

We stand on the edge of possibility.

And that edge is not solid ground.

It is Nothing.

Falling Into—or Standing Within

In lived experience, anxiety often feels like something that overtakes us. It comes, it grips, it unsettles. We may feel as if we are falling.

Kierkegaard describes this almost as a kind of misrelation—a yielding, a slipping. Anxiety becomes overwhelming when we lose ourselves in it.

But Heidegger offers a subtle shift.

What if we are not simply falling into Nothing—but already held within it?

This changes everything.

The Nothing is no longer just a threat. It becomes a condition of existence.

Heidegger and the Openness of Being

Heidegger writes:

Nothing is neither an object nor a being at all. It occurs neither by itself nor alongside beings. Nothing is the condition for the openness of beings as such for human existence… In the Being of beings, the nihilation of Nothing occurs.

This is difficult language. It resists simplification. But perhaps it can be approached in this way:

The Nothing is not “something.”
But without it, nothing could appear as meaningful.

It is the clearing—the open space—within which beings can show themselves.

And we, as human beings, are not outside this clearing.

We are held within it.

The Forgotten Question

And yet, Heidegger insists that we have forgotten this.

He calls it Seinvergessenheit—the forgetfulness of Being.

We move through the world naming, categorizing, explaining. We focus on what things are (what he calls Was-sein), but lose sight of that they are at all (Das-sein).

In Plato’s Doctrine of Truth, Heidegger uses the image of the cave:

• Inside the cave, we deal with definitions, categories, representations.
• Outside the cave, there is exposure—existence itself, unshielded.

Truth, he suggests, lies not in choosing one over the other, but in the tension between them.

In what is concealed.

In what calls us out of ourselves.

Why I Return to This Book

This is why I return to Heidegger.

Not because I fully understand him.

But because I do not.

Because a single sentence can open something that cannot be closed again.

Because it reminds me that thinking is not only about clarity—but about staying with what is unclear, without reducing it too quickly.

Perhaps this is also a form of practical philosophy.

Not providing answers we can draw two lines under.

But helping us remain present in the questions that shape a life.

A Quiet Ending

So I sit here, in the early morning light.

The book is still open.

I have not read further.

And yet—I feel that something has already happened.

It is no wonder I must read this book many times,
when even a single sentence can hold me like this.

References

Aarnes, A., & Wyller, E. (Eds.). (1962). Hva er metafysikk? (G. Fløistad, Trans.). Oslo: Universitetsforlaget.

Cole, J. (1971). The concept of anxiety: A critical analysis of Kierkegaard’s work. Princeton University Press.

Heidegger, M. (1961/1997). Nietzsche (Vols. 1–2). San Francisco, CA: HarperCollins.

Heidegger, M. (2000). Platon: Sannhetens vesen (K. T. Pettersen, Trans.). Oslo: EPOS.

Heidegger, M. (2004). What is metaphysics? In D. F. Krell (Ed.), Basic writings (pp. 93–110). New York, NY: HarperCollins.

Kierkegaard, S. (1980). The concept of anxiety (R. Thomte, Trans.). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1844)

With what I have lived, and what I have understood so far - I take my next step

I have written this text, and OpenAI/ChatGPT has created the illustrations in a dialog with me and the written text.