10 Questions About Empathy In America, A Year After George Floyd's Death

"I can't breathe." "I'm scared." For many people, hearing someone say those words would prompt a scramble to help. But not all. It depends who's listening.

A year ago today, the world watched as George Floyd's life was taken from him him in an agonizing 9-and-a-half-minute video — a murder a police officer was convicted of committing. This month, we saw long-suppressed footage of troopers stunning and punching Ronald Greene as he apologized for leading them on a high-speed chase. He too died.

Millions of us watched those videos. But we didn't all see the same things, and part of the reason is empathy. On a basic level, how we hear the words of George Floyd — and more recently, the words of Ronald Greene — depends on our level of empathy.

Testifying about the day Floyd died in Minneapolis, Minn., many witnesses wept, still feeling despair at not being able to help him.

"When I cried, the whole world cried," witness Charles McMillian said recently, describing the powerful testimony he gave in court.

Witness Charles Mcmillian, 61, gets emotional as he begins his testimony during day three of the trial of former Minneapolis officer Derek Chauvin in the death of George Floyd.

But not everyone had the same response. To get a sense of why — and to learn whether America's relationship with empathy is changing — we spoke to two people who have spent decades studying empathy and bias: Elizabeth Segal, a professor at Arizona State University's School of Social Work, and Jody David Armour, a criminal justice and law professor at the University of Southern California.

How do you define empathy?

Elizabeth Segal: Empathy is a lot more complicated than we would like to think.

I consider the word "empathy" a broad umbrella that includes "interpersonal empathy" and "social empathy.