Fear Narrows. Compassion Widens.

Reflections following the Killing of Charlie Kirk

When I first heard the news of Charlie Kirk’s death, what hit me wasn’t his politics, which are very far from my own—it was sadness. I felt sadness for a life cut short. Sadness for his family and loved ones, whose worlds will never be the same. Sadness for our country, too, for the place we find ourselves in as a society, where political violence has become thinkable, even predictable.

In that moment, I realized I didn’t actually know anything about him. My instinct was to learn, to understand something about who he was as a person. So I pulled up a few videos online. And as I listened, I could see that his politics were pretty much the opposite of where I stand on the issues, but that wasn’t what stood out. What I noticed was his willingness to wrestle with hard questions in dialogue with others. It struck me that, even if I couldn’t agree with his views, I could appreciate the humanity behind them. It reminded me that beneath our differences, each of us is a human being trying to make sense of the world.

This moment of sadness led me to reflect on my own life—on times when I’ve felt disconnected, alienated, or even angry toward people who thought differently than I did. I could recognize, uncomfortably, how easy it is to slip into a mindset of “us versus them,” to reduce another person to the positions they hold or the tribe they belong to. I’ve been there. And I’ve seen how corrosive it can be, both to relationships and to my own heart.

It’s only been a day since I heard the news, but I still feel the sadness. And it’s left me wondering:

How did we get here? How have we arrived at a place where political violence has become a reality in the daily life of our communities?

Fear Narrows

We live in a world that is built to breed division. The 24/7 news cycle, the endless scroll of our feeds, the devices we carry in our pockets—all of it creates a constant barrage of information designed to provoke strong emotions. And because of how our brains evolved, the emotions most easily triggered are fear and anxiety.

As a species, we are wired to survive in small groups. Our biology primes us to form close bonds and to defend them. The very chemicals that create feelings of love and trust—like the neurotransmitter oxytocin—can also reinforce a sense of “us versus them.” Oxytocin is sometimes called the love hormone because it surges when a mother gazes at her child, or when we feel deep closeness with a partner or friend. But research shows that the same chemistry that bonds us to our circle can increase suspicion or even hostility toward those outside it.

At the same time, the brain’s alarm system—the amygdala—is quick to zero in on anything that feels threatening. This once kept us alive by sharpening our attention to danger in the environment. But today, the “threats” are more often social and emotional than physical: a political opinion, a headline, a post in our feed. And yet our brains react as if the stakes were life or death. Our perception narrows. We fixate on differences, amplify the negative, and miss the fullness of the person in front of us.

This is why we so easily lose sight of each other’s humanity in moments of division. It’s not just personal failing—it’s evolutionary wiring, designed to keep us safe, now hijacked by the world we live in. And the result is tragic: we see fellow human beings not as whole, complex people, but as threats to be defended against.

Compassion Expands

The disconnection and alienation so many of us feel today may seem overwhelming—almost like an epidemic. But it’s not inevitable. The very same wiring in our brains and nervous systems that can fuel prejudice and division also holds the potential for connection, empathy, and compassion. We are built not only to bond with those closest to us, but also to widen our circle of care.

Still, this doesn’t happen automatically. It takes practice and intention. Left unchecked, our wiring tends to narrow our focus, pulling us into “us versus them.” But with surprisingly small, steady efforts, we can train ourselves in the opposite direction.

Shifting from disconnection to connection isn’t as daunting as it sounds. In fact, research shows that even short periods of compassion training can begin to rewire the brain.¹ And these changes lead to real-world results. Studies show that compassion practice can actually reduce implicit bias toward members of outgroups² — a measurable sign that widening our circle of care is possible.

One way to do this is through a simple, three-part practice. Think of it as learning a skill with three steps: eliciting, savoring, and extending.

1. Spark - Start where it’s easy. Bring to mind someone that naturally stirs warmth in you—a loved one, a dear friend, even a pet. Anything that sparks a feeling of care and affection.

2. Savor - Once you feel that spark, stay with it. Let the sense of warmth grow stronger. If it’s a person, recall other moments or qualities that make you feel close to them. This transforms the feeling from a fleeting state into something more enduring—what scientists call moving from a “state” to a “trait.” In other words, you’re letting connection sink into your nervous system as a baseline.

3. Widen - With some practice, you can begin to widen the circle beyond those who are easy to care for. Start small—maybe a neighbor you hardly know, or a grocery clerk you barely notice. Then, gradually, move toward people who hold different views, or even those you might passionately disagree with. You don’t begin by excusing their actions or adopting their beliefs. Instead, you imagine them as human beings first—as someone’s child, someone’s friend, someone who also longs to belong. Over time, this gentle widening of perspective loosens the grip of “us versus them.” Eventually, even people who once felt like adversaries can be seen as part of the same circle of care.

This practice does not teach us to ignore the very real problems of the world, or to gloss over injustice or rationalize harmful behavior. But it does ask us to cultivate a boundless capacity for care. Over time, it reshapes how we see others—not as threats or strangers, but as fellow human beings, worthy of compassion simply because they exist.

Turning Toward Possibility

History shows us that societies can spiral into fear or transform through compassion. The situation may feel hopeless today, but change is always possible.

We can choose to widen our own circles. We can interrupt the cycle of outrage and create space for our shared humanity. If we practice this together, the temperature of our public life can shift, and our children may inherit a world less defined by violence.

Fear is contagious. So is compassion. Which one spreads is up to us.

1. Ashar YK, Andrews-Hanna JR, Halifax J, Dimidjian S, Wager TD. Effects of compassion training on brain responses to suffering others. Soc Cogn Affect Neurosci. 2021 Sep 30;16(10):1036-1047.

2. Kang Y, Gray JR, Dovidio JF. The nondiscriminating heart: lovingkindness meditation training decreases implicit intergroup bias. J Exp Psychol Gen. 2014 Jun;143(3):1306-1313.