Killing with Kindness: The Temptation of Toxic Empathy
Empathy is one of the most extraordinary qualities of human beings. The fact that we can feel and understand what someone else is experienced, without having lived it ourselves, is a remarkable gift. It’s at the heart of our ability to connect with others, to live in harmony, and to cultivate a sense of internal peace. It places us firmly in the parasympathetic state—the rest-and-digest mode of the nervous system—where bonding, safety, and growth occur.
It’s one of the great potentials of humankind.
But as with any great quality, empathy has a shadow side. It can be taken too far. And when it is, it transforms from something healing into something harmful. This is what I refer to as toxic empathy.
What Is Toxic Empathy?
Toxic empathy is when empathy is taken to such an extreme that it stops us from saying or doing what needs to be said or done. It becomes a reason to avoid discomfort rather than address what’s real. And I notice this particularly because, as a teacher, I care deeply about my students. I’m always mindful of how they feel, of how to create the best environment for growth, and of how to deliver messages that support them.
But in recent years, particularly in the way communication has shifted over the last few decades, I’ve seen more and more the dangers of toxic empathy. The great risk is this: we stop telling people the truth they need to hear. We become so afraid of offending that we withhold the very thing that would help them grow. And that is not kindness—it’s a kind of sabotage.
It is never easy being a teacher or a guide. Part of the role is having the courage to say the things others don’t want to hear. Often, people are deluding themselves. They’re trying hard. They mean well. But they’re going in the wrong direction. And it’s my job to show them. That doesn’t mean it’s always comfortable. But it is necessary.
The Middle Way: Neither Cold Nor Collapsing
As always, the answer lies in the middle. The centreline.
Buddhism, Daoism, and Wing Tsun all point to this principle: that mastery lies not at the extremes, but in balance. On one end, we have coldness, apathy, even cruelty and psychopathy. On the other, we have excessive empathy: the kind that blurs boundaries and dilutes truth.
What we need instead is honesty, spoken with kindness.
There’s a well-known Zen idea that captures this:
“When the mind is clear, the truth is seen. When the heart is still, the way is known.”
Only by seeing clearly—free of illusion—can we act wisely.
It is tempting to tell people what they want to hear. It feels easier. It protects us from discomfort. The old phrase “don’t shoot the messenger” didn’t arise without cause. No-one enjoys being the bearer of uncomfortable truths. And both extremes are, ironically, easier than the middle. It’s easier to zone out and not care. And it’s easier to over-care and avoid truth. The challenge lies in holding clarity and compassion together.
The Self-Preserving Loop of Toxic Empathy
One of the reasons toxic empathy is so persistent (and so tempting) is that it creates what I call a self-preserving loop.
We feel the other person’s pain. We know that telling them a hard truth will hurt—and so we avoid it. But we’re not only protecting them; we’re also protecting ourselves. Neuroscience shows that similar parts of the brain light up when we witness emotional pain as when we feel physical pain. Telling the truth, in this sense, hurts. And so we don’t do it.
This loop, however, is not wisdom. It is a form of avoidance - a self-protective act carried out in a self-destructive way.
It feels kind. It feels noble. But it sabotages both teacher and student, parent and child, leader and team. It is good intentions, poorly applied.
The Shift: From Empathy to Compassion
The solution is not to become less caring. It’s to become wiser in how we care. And that can involve increasing our compassion. Compassion, too, is also often misunderstood. It’s not about numbing out. It’s not about detachment. In fact, it still involves deep feeling, but it also includes clarity.
Empathy is typically felt—it comes from the heart and gut. Compassion is often led by understanding, by insight - by the head. Both are needed. But when you are navigating high-stakes situations—be it martial arts, military, medicine, or leadership—you need the balance.
Those in the most traumatic roles—doctors, nurses, medics—often burn out not from cruelty, but from too much empathy. They feel too much. And without that shift into compassion, they begin to numb out or collapse. That’s why the ability to lead with compassion—not just empathy—is so vital. It gives you space. It gives you perspective. And it gives the strength to care without being ruled by what you feel.
Teaching with Truth: Martial and Personal Lessons
One of the best examples I’ve experienced came during law school. A senior judge reviewed our presentations. I gave a closing argument, and she said, “No, not quite right. You need to include this, this, and this.”
I did it again.
“Better. But still not quite. You’ve missed this.”
By the third round, I had something excellent.
She gave real-time, actionable feedback. And while it wasn’t always comfortable, it was transformational. She was direct, yet kind. No humiliation—just clarity.
The same principle applies in martial arts. I often say to students: “Don’t kill me with kindness.” If I ask you to punch me, punch. It’s my job to defend.
You don’t need to defend a punch that isn’t going to hit you. That’s one of the most basic premises of Wing Tsun (and, in many ways, of all martial arts). Yet how often do we see people defending against punches that aren’t even aimed at them? They may enjoy themselves, but are they learning the skill they truly want? If the attack isn’t real, the defence isn’t either.
In censoring to spare someone’s feelings, we may be robbing them of the truth they need to grow. Again, the centreline principle: real challenges, delivered with care.
Toxic Empathy as a Business Killer
Toxic empathy doesn’t just affect relationships or training—it can cripple a business.
As a leader, if you aren’t getting honest feedback—if your team is too afraid to say what’s really going on—you’re steering blind. I’ve seen this countless times: leadership is too far removed from the day-to-day reality, and it causes enormous problems.
One approach I’ve implemented in organisations (inspired by my time at Leon Restaurants) is the Buddy Day: senior leaders work alongside frontline teams. Whether in the kitchen, on the factory floor, or in a class, it closes the gap. Otherwise, too often, people assume you already know—or fear being the bearer of bad news.
I made this mistake early in my martial arts school. One of my instructors had an abrasive manner. I didn’t know it. But students were quietly leaving. By the time I found out—over six months later—half the class had gone. The damage was done. Toxic empathy had silenced the truth as students didn’t want to tell me. This is why clarity isn’t optional. It's essential at every level.
Shakespeare and the Weaponisation of Kindness
The danger of excessive kindness is not new. One of the earliest uses of the phrase “killing with kindness” appears in Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, where Petruchio vows to “kill a wife with kindness.”
It’s not kindness as benevolence—it’s weaponised kindness. Supposedly gentle, but actually controlling. And in that, there’s an uncomfortable resonance with the modern world.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, might toxic empathy have been present in some of the messaging—perhaps even with the best of intentions? For example, the call to get vaccinated to “protect your grandmother” was framed as an act of care—not for yourself, but for others.
This touched something deep in us—the human desire not to harm. But when empathy is used as emotional leverage, it can override reflection. The truth is, what’s broadly right for the majority may not be right for every individual. And when the debate is shut down by moral urgency, personal agency can quietly disappear. The question is not about the outcome. It’s about the process. Were we still allowed to think?
A Framework for Courageous Communication
To support honest, skilful conversations, I created a simple framework—used in my businesses, martial arts schools, and leadership work with companies. I call it the Communication Charter:
Speak about people as if they were in the room.
Speak directly to the appropriate person, with honesty.
Speak with kindness and with non-judgemental language.
Reflections for Mastery
Here are a few questions I often return to—both for myself and my students:
Where in your life are you over-caring and under-speaking?
Where might others be doing the same to you?
Are you overly sensitive to people’s honesty—and is that holding back your growth?
Who could you give permission to be truly honest with you?
Start with simple words: “Have I missed anything?”
“What would you have improved?”
Final Thoughts
Empathy is a gift. But without clarity, it becomes a trap.
We must stop killing each other with kindness. Stop hiding truth beneath politeness and stop protecting ourselves from pain at the cost of another’s potential.
Mastery—whether in martial arts, leadership, or life—means developing the courage to speak truth with kindness. To act from compassion, not collapse. To see clearly, speak clearly, and support others with strength.
Sifu