The notion that MAGA thinks empathy is evil has been perpetuated by none other than Elon Musk, who recently used this rhetoric to justify his authoritarian turn. However, a closer examination of the roots of this anti-empathy discourse reveals a more complex and sinister origin story.
At the forefront of this movement is Allie Beth Stuckey, a fundamentalist Christian influencer who has made it her mission to rewrite Jesus' teachings to emphasize a harsh disciplinarian approach that has little to do with empathy. Her book "Toxic Empathy: How Progressives Exploit Christian Compassion" argues that feeling too much for someone can blind us to reality and cause us to ignore the truth, in favor of how a person feels.
Stuckey's argument is rooted in a false narrative that kindness and compassion are not what Jesus meant by "love." Instead, true Christian love is about beating someone into submission and denying them equality or basic dignity. This line of thought has always been the paper-thin rationale for bigotry and abuse, but Stuckey's sinister genius lies in using her gender to make these tired gambits seem fresh and modern.
By packaging her work as fluffy girl stuff, Stuckey has created space for herself to live out the usually male role of being the pompous bully who will brook no dissent. Her ability to use hyper-feminine aesthetics to conceal what would immediately register as dystopian sentiments if they came from a man has proven to be both effective and devastating.
Stuckey's strategy is not unique, however. The right has long relied on using women to advance their agendas, often by presenting them as anti-feminist or opposing the very principles of feminism that they secretly benefit from. By embracing this trope, Stuckey has created a powerful tool for spreading her ideology and silencing her critics.
The irony is that while Stuckey's message may seem counterintuitive at first – who wouldn't want to associate empathy with women? – it is precisely this juxtaposition that makes it so persuasive. In an era where social media often prioritizes performance over fact, Stuckey's ability to convincingly convey a message of toxic empathy has proven to be both captivating and corrosive.
Ultimately, Stuckey's role in the MAGA war on empathy serves as a stark reminder of the dangers of rhetoric that seeks to normalize cruelty and disregard for human life. As we navigate this increasingly polarized landscape, it is crucial to recognize the subtle yet insidious ways in which ideologies like these can be propagated – often by women who are adept at hiding behind a veneer of femininity.
At the forefront of this movement is Allie Beth Stuckey, a fundamentalist Christian influencer who has made it her mission to rewrite Jesus' teachings to emphasize a harsh disciplinarian approach that has little to do with empathy. Her book "Toxic Empathy: How Progressives Exploit Christian Compassion" argues that feeling too much for someone can blind us to reality and cause us to ignore the truth, in favor of how a person feels.
Stuckey's argument is rooted in a false narrative that kindness and compassion are not what Jesus meant by "love." Instead, true Christian love is about beating someone into submission and denying them equality or basic dignity. This line of thought has always been the paper-thin rationale for bigotry and abuse, but Stuckey's sinister genius lies in using her gender to make these tired gambits seem fresh and modern.
By packaging her work as fluffy girl stuff, Stuckey has created space for herself to live out the usually male role of being the pompous bully who will brook no dissent. Her ability to use hyper-feminine aesthetics to conceal what would immediately register as dystopian sentiments if they came from a man has proven to be both effective and devastating.
Stuckey's strategy is not unique, however. The right has long relied on using women to advance their agendas, often by presenting them as anti-feminist or opposing the very principles of feminism that they secretly benefit from. By embracing this trope, Stuckey has created a powerful tool for spreading her ideology and silencing her critics.
The irony is that while Stuckey's message may seem counterintuitive at first – who wouldn't want to associate empathy with women? – it is precisely this juxtaposition that makes it so persuasive. In an era where social media often prioritizes performance over fact, Stuckey's ability to convincingly convey a message of toxic empathy has proven to be both captivating and corrosive.
Ultimately, Stuckey's role in the MAGA war on empathy serves as a stark reminder of the dangers of rhetoric that seeks to normalize cruelty and disregard for human life. As we navigate this increasingly polarized landscape, it is crucial to recognize the subtle yet insidious ways in which ideologies like these can be propagated – often by women who are adept at hiding behind a veneer of femininity.