Empathy is a necessary step for truth and reconciliation.

The words of Simon Baron-Cohen—“Empathy is a necessary step for truth and reconciliation”—ring with the solemn wisdom of one who has studied both the mind and the heart. In them is contained a profound teaching: that truth alone, cold and bare, is not enough to heal the wounds of division, betrayal, or injustice. To arrive at true reconciliation, one must pass through the sacred bridge of empathy—the act of feeling with another, of seeing through their eyes, of sharing in their pain and humanity. Without this step, truth may be spoken, but it will fall like stones on hardened ground, never sinking into the soil where peace and forgiveness may grow.

The ancients understood this path well. When the Greeks spoke of catharsis, they spoke of the purging of the soul through recognition and shared emotion. The Hebrews, in their psalms of lament, cried out not only their own grief but also the grief of their people, binding wounds through shared sorrow. To confess wrongs or to hear them is not enough—hearts must touch, and tears must mingle. Empathy is the fire that softens the iron of pride, making reconciliation possible.

History bears witness to this eternal truth. Consider the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, led by Desmond Tutu after the fall of apartheid. The atrocities of that era could not be healed by facts alone. The truth of crimes, of torture, of oppression was revealed—but it was the act of listening with empathy, of weeping with those who wept, that allowed victims and perpetrators alike to move toward reconciliation. Without empathy, truth would have been a weapon. With empathy, it became a doorway to peace.

Or think of Abraham Lincoln at the end of the American Civil War. He did not call merely for victory, nor only for justice, but for reconciliation “with malice toward none, with charity for all.” He recognized that empathy was essential, that the victors must feel with the vanquished, and the divided must begin to see one another as brothers again. In his words we hear Baron-Cohen’s teaching: only when empathy tempers truth can reconciliation be achieved, and the wounds of nations healed.

But this wisdom applies not only to nations—it applies to every soul. In families broken by betrayal, in friendships wounded by lies, in communities divided by distrust, truth must be spoken. Yet truth without empathy hardens the heart; it becomes accusation, not healing. When one listens with empathy, the other feels seen, and only then can forgiveness be born. To reconcile is not to erase the truth, but to allow the truth to live alongside compassion, so that the past becomes a teacher rather than a prison.

The lesson is clear: if you would bring healing, do not speak truth as a sword, but as a balm. Begin with empathy. Listen deeply, feel fully, imagine the weight the other carries. Speak truth with gentleness, and let your words be guided not only by reason but by compassion. In this way, truth will not divide but unite, and reconciliation will not be a fragile truce but a lasting peace.

Therefore, O seeker, remember Baron-Cohen’s wisdom: empathy is the bridge between truth and reconciliation. Without it, truth wounds and reconciliation fails. With it, truth heals and reconciliation endures. Practice empathy in your home, in your work, in your community. When divisions arise, do not ask first to be heard—ask first to hear. For when empathy and truth walk hand in hand, reconciliation becomes not only possible but inevitable, and peace flows like water into even the driest places of the human heart.