On empathy with animals and objects

A study into eyes shines a light on autistic empathy

Ada, Hel’s little goblin dog

I’ve written about empathy a few times on here, as it’s a kind of sub-special interest within the macro special interest I have in the AuDHD experience. We all know the myth that autistic people don't have empathy (or even feelings) because they don't express it in a way neurotypical society understands.

However, a study by Cross et al. (2022) blew this out the water and then some. Autistic and allistic adults were asked to guess the emotions shown in images of real eyes and cartoon eyes. The autistic participants were similarly able to guess the emotions in the photos of human faces as the allistics, and they were FAR better at reading the emotions the cartoons' eyes.

The researchers concluded that, rather than autistic people having a deficit of empathy, they have a surplus of it.

Empathy and People

I experience intense affective empathy, meaning I deeply feel the emotions of others . And those feelings can be incredibly intense. Unlike many people, I'm not uncomfortable with strong emotions. I create a safe space for others to express themselves without judgment. I'll sit with you in your pain, if that is what you need, because I understand what it's like to be struggling with strong feelings and not wanting to be alone with them.

Unfortunately, this affective empathy doesn't always translate in the allistic world. Like many in my community, I've often been accused of being cold or uncaring, because my emotional expression differs from neurotypical norms. My face tends not to move much, a phenomenon known as "flat affect," and my voice doesn't always change tone.

It doesn't help that I do struggle with cognitive empathy (for allistics) – essentially, I don't always intuitively know the "right" thing to say or do in response to their emotions. It's like we're operating in different dimensions, and I'm constantly mis-translating. The resulting misunderstandings create a constant underlying feeling of being fundamentally misunderstood. It's an isolating feeling knowing that people do not connect with you. Living as an autistic in an allistic world can be a painfully lonely experience.

However, the problem isn’t me, per se. Milton (2012) discusses 'double empathy', where allistics and autistics struggle to empathise with each other, and not that autistics themselves lack empathy. In fact, research by Watts et al (2024) suggests that autistic individuals communicate most effectively and feel most understood when interacting with other autistic individuals. Perhaps, then, our empathy isn’t lacking, it’s just not meant for non-autistic people.

Empathy and Animals and Objects

Whilst I empathise with my fellow humans, it doesn't compare with my empathy for animals. I have deeply and profoundly loved every dog I've ever owned, feeling like there is nothing I would not do to make them feel happy and safe. I also feel more accepted by dogs than people. With my dog, Ada, I don't feel the need to perform sympathy or worry about my facial expressions or tone of voice. What matters is that I accurately perceive her feelings and respond to her needs with kindness and care. Interestingly, I have no problem making direct eye contact with her. Perhaps it's because human eye contact is loaded with complex social expectations and potential for misinterpretation, or maybe I simply process animal eyes differently. But I could happily gaze into her scraggly little face all day. My love for my dogs does mean I also experience intense grief when they inevitably pass. When my old dog, Clarence, the loss hit me with an immeasurable force, for which I was not prepared.

This empathy for non-humans also extends to objects. Cross et al's study on autistic response to cartoon eyes resonated with me as I've always had an unshakeable soft spot for teddies. Growing up, I struggled to discard any toys, not out of hoarding tendencies, but because I was genuinely distressed by the thought of upsetting them by rejecting them. Even recently, throwing out a very old teddy bear that had been in storage for 25 years caused me significant emotional distress.

These experiences, combined with research like the Cross et al. study, paint a much richer and more nuanced picture of autistic empathy. It's not a deficit, but a difference – a unique way of experiencing and expressing emotions that deserves to be understood and respected. Out empathy expression may be missed or misunderstood by allistics, but it is actually a fundamental strength of the autistic community. And in a world where powerful global people are positing empathy as a 'weakness' to justify increasingly inhumane decisions, surely the antidote is the embracing of not only more empathy, but different kinds of empathy.