Empathy, a cornerstone of the Christmas story—where a "king" is born in poverty to uplift the marginalized—has been supplanted by apathy and self-interest.
By Fareed Khan
A version of this article can be found on Substack.
As the twinkling lights adorn our streets and the carols echo through frost-kissed air, Christmas arrives once more like a gentle snowfall, blanketing the world in promises of peace on Earth and goodwill toward all. In its purest essence, this season commemorates the birth of a child in a humble manger—a symbol of humility, compassion, and the radical idea that love can upend empires and heal divisions. It’s a time when we’re called to pause, to extend kindness to strangers, and to envision a world where swords are beaten into ploughshares.
Today, that once-unimaginable world stares back at us, unrecognizable and unforgiving. In the United States, the most powerful nation on Earth, democratic institutions—forged through generations of struggle—are besieged and being dismantled by forces that prioritize power and control over democracy and principle, eroding hard-won advances in equality, justice, human rights and environmentalism.
In Canada, we have a leader in Mark Carney elected as a Liberal on progressive promises and a commitment to push back against Donald Trump’s economic and political aggression, governing with a conservatism that blurs ideological lines. Across the aisle from him in Parliament the leader of the Official Opposition—Pierre Poilievre—pines to remake Canada in the mold of America’s most conservative of Republican states, where individual freedoms are suppressed, corporate interests are elevated, and cultural wars are used to advance regressive policies. This isn’t the enlightened era Boomers, Gen Xers, or Millennials envisioned growing up. It’s a landscape where fascism’s spectre looms not as a ghost but as a living threat, fuelled by rising right wing extremism, disinformation, division, and a yearning to make things “great” again.
At the core of this malaise lies a profound inversion of values. Empathy, a cornerstone of the Christmas story—where a “king” is born in poverty to uplift the marginalized—has been supplanted by apathy and self-interest. We inhabit a realm where accountability doesn’t exist for the rich and powerful, where petty offenders languish in prisons while titans of industry evade justice for crimes that span continents and affect millions.
Corporations ravage ecosystems in pursuit of quarterly profits, turning forests into wastelands and oceans into plastic graveyards, all while political leaders dither amid the flames of a climate catastrophe that has gotten worse by the year. The planet warms, droughts, floods and fire storms rage, and thousands of species vanish, yet the response is often a shrug, a denial, or a greenwashed press release. How is it that we have normalized this?
The top ten wealthiest individuals in the world hoard wealth like a dragon hoards gold, and that wealth eclipses the GDP of 147 of the least wealthy nations combined, yet they dodge taxes that could fund schools, hospitals and sustainable futures and eradicate poverty. The rest of us foot the bill, watching as inequality grows and festers like a gaping wound, and wonder how the obscenity of a single man having more wealth than could be enjoyed in a hundred lifetimes is allowed to exist.
Yet even in this bleak tableau Christmas whispers a counter-narrative, one that refuses to surrender to despair. The season’s enduring message isn’t mere nostalgia, it’s a clarion call to reclaim what we’ve lost. Peace on Earth isn’t a passive wish—it’s an active pursuit, demanding we extend goodwill beyond December’s borders. Imagine if we harnessed the fleeting kindness of the holidays as a catalyst for lasting change. What if the energy we muster for Christmas family gatherings was extended year-round to the homeless in our streets, the single parent working two jobs to just get by, or the generosity of gift-giving fuelled campaigns against inequality?
History teaches us that progress isn’t linear, it’s forged in moments of collective awakening. The same generations that marched for civil rights and environmental protections can inspire today’s youth to rise against fascism’s tide, to hold leaders accountable for catering to corporate elites, and to innovate solutions for a warming world.
In the manger’s shadow, there’s hope in humility—the recognition that no empire is eternal, no injustice invincible. We’ve seen glimmers in grassroots movements amplifying voices against genocide, youth-led strikes demanding climate action, and communities bridging divides through dialogue. The rich might hoard wealth but they can’t monopolize compassion or activism.
As we “deck the halls” this year, let Christmas be more than ritual, let it be revolution. By embodying its spirit daily throughout the year—choosing empathy over enmity, accountability over apathy—we can weave a new tapestry for tomorrow. The world may seem uglier now, but in the quiet miracle of a single act of kindness lies the seed of redemption. This season, we should do more than celebrate the light, we should become it. Let’s illuminate a path toward the peace we’ve long desired but most of us have seldom pursued. In that pursuit, perhaps we’ll find the just and peaceful world we always imagined—not perfect, but progressing, one hopeful step at a time.
© 2025 The View From Here. © 2025 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.
As the twinkling lights adorn our streets and the carols echo through frost-kissed air, Christmas arrives once more like a gentle snowfall, blanketing the world in promises of peace on Earth and goodwill toward all. In its purest essence, this season commemorates the birth of a child in a humble manger—a symbol of humility, compassion, and the radical idea that love can upend empires and heal divisions. It’s a time when we’re called to pause, to extend kindness to strangers, and to envision a world where swords are beaten into ploughshares.
Yet, in the glow of our holiday hearths, one can’t help but wonder: What does this ancient message truly mean in our hyper-connected, hyper-divided, hyper-capitalist era? Amid the festive cheer, Christmas serves as a stark mirror, reflecting not just our joys but the profound dissonances of the society we’ve built and in which we live.
Consider the irony woven into the fabric of this season. Christmas carols speak of silent nights and holy nights, invoking a tranquility that feels increasingly elusive. For eleven months of the year, the world churns with discord—violent conflicts rage unchecked, political vitriol poisons societal discourse, and empathy seems a scarce commodity. Then, as December dawns, a collective mass amnesia sets in. We exchange pleasantries with people we ignore for most of the year, donate to food banks we forget by February, and preach unity while scrolling past headlines of suffering. If the figure at the heart of Christmas—a teacher who championed the poor, challenged the powerful, and preached forgiveness—were to walk among us today, what verdict might he render on our progress? Would he recognize the “goodwill” in a society where kindness is rationed, confined to Hallmark cards and holiday parties, rather than a year-round ethic?
Those of us who came of age in the latter half of the 20th century remember a different cadence to history. From the early 1970s through the late 1990s, despite the Cold War, regional conflicts, and the shadow of nuclear annihilation hanging like the sword of Damocles over us, there was an undercurrent of optimism. The civil rights movements had borne fruit, environmental awakenings like Earth Day promised stewardship of our planet, and the fall of the Berlin Wall heralded an end to the Cold War as millions behind the “Iron Curtain” experienced freedom and democracy for the first time.
We dreamed of a future where technology bridged gaps and improved lives, the economy lifted all boats, and global cooperation tamed existential threats. But the turn of the millennium brought a seismic shift. The horror of the terrorist attacks in the US on September 11, 2001, didn’t just scar a city skyline, they planted seeds of fear that have blossomed into today’s thorny vines of extremism. What began as a response to terrorism morphed into endless wars, surveillance states, and a resurgence of authoritarian impulses that echo the dark preludes of the 1930s.
Consider the irony woven into the fabric of this season. Christmas carols speak of silent nights and holy nights, invoking a tranquility that feels increasingly elusive. For eleven months of the year, the world churns with discord—violent conflicts rage unchecked, political vitriol poisons societal discourse, and empathy seems a scarce commodity. Then, as December dawns, a collective mass amnesia sets in. We exchange pleasantries with people we ignore for most of the year, donate to food banks we forget by February, and preach unity while scrolling past headlines of suffering. If the figure at the heart of Christmas—a teacher who championed the poor, challenged the powerful, and preached forgiveness—were to walk among us today, what verdict might he render on our progress? Would he recognize the “goodwill” in a society where kindness is rationed, confined to Hallmark cards and holiday parties, rather than a year-round ethic?
Those of us who came of age in the latter half of the 20th century remember a different cadence to history. From the early 1970s through the late 1990s, despite the Cold War, regional conflicts, and the shadow of nuclear annihilation hanging like the sword of Damocles over us, there was an undercurrent of optimism. The civil rights movements had borne fruit, environmental awakenings like Earth Day promised stewardship of our planet, and the fall of the Berlin Wall heralded an end to the Cold War as millions behind the “Iron Curtain” experienced freedom and democracy for the first time.
We dreamed of a future where technology bridged gaps and improved lives, the economy lifted all boats, and global cooperation tamed existential threats. But the turn of the millennium brought a seismic shift. The horror of the terrorist attacks in the US on September 11, 2001, didn’t just scar a city skyline, they planted seeds of fear that have blossomed into today’s thorny vines of extremism. What began as a response to terrorism morphed into endless wars, surveillance states, and a resurgence of authoritarian impulses that echo the dark preludes of the 1930s.
Today, that once-unimaginable world stares back at us, unrecognizable and unforgiving. In the United States, the most powerful nation on Earth, democratic institutions—forged through generations of struggle—are besieged and being dismantled by forces that prioritize power and control over democracy and principle, eroding hard-won advances in equality, justice, human rights and environmentalism.
In Canada, we have a leader in Mark Carney elected as a Liberal on progressive promises and a commitment to push back against Donald Trump’s economic and political aggression, governing with a conservatism that blurs ideological lines. Across the aisle from him in Parliament the leader of the Official Opposition—Pierre Poilievre—pines to remake Canada in the mold of America’s most conservative of Republican states, where individual freedoms are suppressed, corporate interests are elevated, and cultural wars are used to advance regressive policies. This isn’t the enlightened era Boomers, Gen Xers, or Millennials envisioned growing up. It’s a landscape where fascism’s spectre looms not as a ghost but as a living threat, fuelled by rising right wing extremism, disinformation, division, and a yearning to make things “great” again.
At the core of this malaise lies a profound inversion of values. Empathy, a cornerstone of the Christmas story—where a “king” is born in poverty to uplift the marginalized—has been supplanted by apathy and self-interest. We inhabit a realm where accountability doesn’t exist for the rich and powerful, where petty offenders languish in prisons while titans of industry evade justice for crimes that span continents and affect millions.
Corporations ravage ecosystems in pursuit of quarterly profits, turning forests into wastelands and oceans into plastic graveyards, all while political leaders dither amid the flames of a climate catastrophe that has gotten worse by the year. The planet warms, droughts, floods and fire storms rage, and thousands of species vanish, yet the response is often a shrug, a denial, or a greenwashed press release. How is it that we have normalized this?
The top ten wealthiest individuals in the world hoard wealth like a dragon hoards gold, and that wealth eclipses the GDP of 147 of the least wealthy nations combined, yet they dodge taxes that could fund schools, hospitals and sustainable futures and eradicate poverty. The rest of us foot the bill, watching as inequality grows and festers like a gaping wound, and wonder how the obscenity of a single man having more wealth than could be enjoyed in a hundred lifetimes is allowed to exist.
Worse still is the moral contortion evident in global affairs. On our screens, we witness atrocities unfold in real time—a genocide that echoes the horrors of World War Two, with civilians caught in crossfires of indifference. In Gaza, for more than 800 days, Palestinians have faced horrors that we thought had been left behind in World War Two, with people being slaughtered daily, even during the season of peace and goodwill for three consecutive years, while those with the leverage to intervene opt for silence, political platitudes or complicity. Truth-tellers who decry environmental ruin, economic exploitation, or systemic oppression are marginalized, censored, or worse, by elites who guard their wealth and power. This is a world turned upside down, where humanity’s better angels are drowned out by the clamour of greed and grievance.
We scroll through a daily deluge of ugliness—poverty amid plenty, division amid diversity—and yet, where are the mass mobilizations of people to storm the political barricades? Why aren’t people flooding the streets, demanding a reckoning with these injustices? The future we once hoped for has curdled like sour milk into a dystopia, and we should grieve for the children inheriting this legacy—a planet scarred by our shortsightedness, societies slowly fracturing from our failures.
We scroll through a daily deluge of ugliness—poverty amid plenty, division amid diversity—and yet, where are the mass mobilizations of people to storm the political barricades? Why aren’t people flooding the streets, demanding a reckoning with these injustices? The future we once hoped for has curdled like sour milk into a dystopia, and we should grieve for the children inheriting this legacy—a planet scarred by our shortsightedness, societies slowly fracturing from our failures.
Yet even in this bleak tableau Christmas whispers a counter-narrative, one that refuses to surrender to despair. The season’s enduring message isn’t mere nostalgia, it’s a clarion call to reclaim what we’ve lost. Peace on Earth isn’t a passive wish—it’s an active pursuit, demanding we extend goodwill beyond December’s borders. Imagine if we harnessed the fleeting kindness of the holidays as a catalyst for lasting change. What if the energy we muster for Christmas family gatherings was extended year-round to the homeless in our streets, the single parent working two jobs to just get by, or the generosity of gift-giving fuelled campaigns against inequality?
History teaches us that progress isn’t linear, it’s forged in moments of collective awakening. The same generations that marched for civil rights and environmental protections can inspire today’s youth to rise against fascism’s tide, to hold leaders accountable for catering to corporate elites, and to innovate solutions for a warming world.
In the manger’s shadow, there’s hope in humility—the recognition that no empire is eternal, no injustice invincible. We’ve seen glimmers in grassroots movements amplifying voices against genocide, youth-led strikes demanding climate action, and communities bridging divides through dialogue. The rich might hoard wealth but they can’t monopolize compassion or activism.
As we “deck the halls” this year, let Christmas be more than ritual, let it be revolution. By embodying its spirit daily throughout the year—choosing empathy over enmity, accountability over apathy—we can weave a new tapestry for tomorrow. The world may seem uglier now, but in the quiet miracle of a single act of kindness lies the seed of redemption. This season, we should do more than celebrate the light, we should become it. Let’s illuminate a path toward the peace we’ve long desired but most of us have seldom pursued. In that pursuit, perhaps we’ll find the just and peaceful world we always imagined—not perfect, but progressing, one hopeful step at a time.
© 2025 The View From Here. © 2025 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.
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