In this op-ed, writer Emma Rayder reflects on unempathetic social media responses to the devastating Los Angeles fires and what they say about how desensitized we are to tragedy.
For the past few days, I’ve been glued to my phone, scrolling X and TikTok and refreshing the news to follow the devastating fires ripping through Los Angeles. I’ve cried with and for friends and strangers who’ve lost everything — homes, pets, wardrobes, family photo albums, their entire lives.
The outpouring of resources and awareness is inspiring. Practically every Instagram Story on my feed features a link to donate to the Los Angeles Fire Department or a comprehensive list of resources for those affected. The wildfires have spurred incredible acts of generosity, and these reflect some of the better aspects of human nature; but I was naive to assume our country was unified in its show of support for Los Angeles. Social media comment sections reveal a darker reality: a compassion crisis fueled by political division and a growing desensitization to tragedy.
There are a few common threads I'm seeing in the negative comments: hatred for celebrities; the belief that only famous, rich people and Democrats live in Los Angeles; and a sort of scoffing attitude that people shouldn’t grieve lost possessions when their lives are at stake. All of those sentiments are compounded by the social media algorithm, which trafficks in hate clicks and rage-bait and benefits from making us all loathe one another.
Studies have shown that excessive social (and traditional) media consumption can reduce empathy. It makes sense that, amid an overload of painful information, our brains fight off a constant state of despair by forcing us to feel less. But many users have sprinted past numbness to downright vitriol.
While scrolling through TikTok, I saw hundreds of comments echoing the the idea of “You’re rich, you will be fine.” Others pointed to Californians’ choices to live in the state and vote blue as the root of their misfortune. (It’s worth noting that many have shown a similar lack of empathy for Floridians who vote Republican and are impacted by hurricanes.) Some of these insensitive remarks were left on the videos of celebrities like Heidi Montag and Whitney Cummings, who both lost their homes in the wildfires, but most were left on the profiles of so-called “normal” people.
Gen Z (and millennials) have long held an “eat the rich” mindset — and we’re not unjustified in our frustration with the ultra-wealthy. The mega-rich are only getting richer, with America’s top 1% holding almost a third of the country’s wealth — more than the 50% of Americans who make up the middle class. But anybody who has been to Los Angeles and walked the boardwalk in Venice Beach or strolled through downtown knows that the city and its suburbs are as diverse in socioeconomic status as it gets.
Los Angeles County’s poverty rate is nearly three percentage points higher than that of the United States as a whole. The county’s median income levels are close to representative of the national values, but LA's per capita income of $44,319 is far below the estimated $96,500 it takes to live comfortably in a major US city.
Even if it were only the richest of the rich and celebrities losing their homes and possessions in the wildfires, that would not void us — as a nation and as humans — of our duty to feel compassion. The truth is that people are returning to their homes in LA to find ruins and flattened neighborhoods. Some of those people are celebrities who are posting candidly about what they and their communities have lost.
“This house wasn’t just a place to live— It was where we dreamed, laughed, and created the most beautiful memories as a family,” Paris Hilton wrote alongside a video of the wreckage of her home in Malibu. “To see it reduced to ashes… it’s devastating beyond words… What breaks my heart even more is knowing that this isn’t just my story. So many people have lost everything. It’s not just walls and roofs — it’s the memories that made those houses homes.”
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The financial freedom to purchase a new house does not replace the memories that are lost in a fire. Some people will need shared resources and media attention more than others — and people do need to be thoughtful about where they put their money and time — but it is okay for people to mourn the tangibles as well, such as a favorite pair of jeans or a letter from a family member who has since passed. Those items are invaluable in their own way.
While the majority of responses to the LA wildfires have reflected love and support, the many comments that lack empathy or even push blame on Californians highlights the urgent need for people to stop scrolling and rediscover compassion.
I acknowledge that, in many ways, younger generations have been dealt an unfair hand with the normalization of chaos and a sensationalized, nonstop news cycle. It’s terrifying that, in the first two weeks of 2025, the US has already dealt with a wave of terror, violence, and natural disasters. It’s even scarier that it all feels par for the course. But this constant stream of negativity is not a reason to turn against one another — it is grounds for coming together. As our generation enters adulthood, we are uniquely positioned to lead change, but only if we recognize the negative impacts of constant doomscrolling and polarized discourse.
Empathy is not a finite resource. We have the capacity to feel for people in North Carolina and Florida while also hurting for people in Los Angeles. Imagine waking up one morning to find that everything you love and worked hard for is gone. Really bear the pain and the powerlessness of that.
We’re all human — let’s start feeling it.
