The Chilling Power of Indifference Across Borders
Friendship—the kind that stretches across oceans and overrides borders—has long offered comfort in an increasingly fractured world. So what happens when, during one of America’s most turbulent chapters, you turn to your pen pal abroad, seeking both solace and solidarity, only to be met with a cold wall of indifference? For one American letter writer, this was not just disappointing. It was a personal betrayal of shared humanity.
According to a widely syndicated column by R. Eric Thomas (appearing everywhere from PennLive and MassLive to OregonLive and ADN), a reader reached out after their longtime online friend declared they were “not interested” in any U.S. news—no matter how alarming. From the friend’s European vantage point, personal freedom was secure and the world’s anxieties were, apparently, someone else’s problem. But to the American writer, who described troop deployments, political purges, and rising racism at home, the indifference felt like a rug being pulled out from under them—especially given their family’s own ties to wartime Europe.
The situation raises a troubling question: Is not caring about another country’s suffering a moral failure, or a kind of psychological self-preservation? Or, as Thomas so pointedly writes, is it simply a “perverse kind of luxury,” only available to those fortunate enough to feel immune from the world’s instability?
The “Luxury” of Looking Away—and Its Real Consequences
At first glance, tuning out the world’s chaos might seem understandable—especially for those whose own daily lives are insulated from conflict. But the cost of selective apathy is not nothing. As Harvard psychologist Susan David cautions, “Emotional disconnection, when practiced on a personal or global scale, erodes the bonds that make us human.” Indifference in the face of injustice is rarely as benign as it appears; ignoring the news doesn’t stop reality from unfolding around us, nor does it pause the ripple effects that crises have across continents.
As Thomas reminds readers, the privilege of ignoring distant suffering is one few can afford. This “luxury,” firmly enclosed in quotation marks, is—like so many privileges—often invisible to those who possess it. Historical precedent backs this up: from the bystander apathy that hampered global response during the Rwandan genocide, to the indifference of many Western citizens during the early years of the AIDS crisis, distance and comfort have, time and again, proven to be dangerous opiates.
“Not caring about the news—especially news that signals danger to democracy and justice—is a morally complicated choice. Ignorance is not innocence, and silence is not safety.”
Tune out today, and you risk waking up, as so many have, to a world irrevocably changed. It’s one reason democracy depends on transnational empathy—not just informed voting, but caring enough to witness others’ struggles and, if possible, to stand in solidarity.
What Do We Really Want From Our Friends?
Beyond that, the situation revealed by this advice column challenges all of us to interrogate our own expectations. When Americans—accustomed, perhaps, to being the world’s focus—discover that even close friends abroad can become detached or defensive about U.S. turmoil, the shock is genuine. Yet, as R. Eric Thomas wisely suggests, the real question isn’t whether our friends will take to the streets for us, but whether they are capable of offering empathy. Sometimes, the deepest solidarity is found not in political action, but in listening: “I’m feeling upset about the way the world’s working right now and as a friend, I’d like for you to listen. Can you do that?” The author’s proposed script is disarmingly simple.
It’s tempting to measure a friend’s loyalty by their willingness to echo outrage or campaign for our cause. Still, honest, open-hearted listening is, in its own way, a political act. Consider the research of Stanford sociologist Robb Willer, who emphasizes that “empathy is a critical lubricant in the machinery of democracy. It fosters trust, eases polarization, and allows for the kind of transformative conversation democracies urgently need.”
A closer look reveals a generational gap in approaches, too. According to a 2023 Pew Research Center survey, younger Americans are more likely than their elders to expect political engagement abroad, but also more likely to turn off the news to preserve their mental health. In a globalized era, the personal is unavoidably political—but the political remains stubbornly, confusingly personal.
Does ghosting a friend for being disengaged solve anything? Or might it be worth risking awkwardness to explain, honestly, what kind of support you need? As the columnist implies, sometimes all we really want is simple acknowledgment. When someone says “not interested,” it stings—not just as a political slight, but as evidence of a shrinking moral imagination in a time when we desperately need expansion. True friendship, across any border, requires more.
