"I stopped watching the news."
Haru murmured. In the library, Simon and Mio were reading books.
"Why?" Simon asked.
"It's painful. War, disaster, incidents. Every day just bad news."
Mio looked up from her book. A rare occurrence.
"They say indifference is a sin," Simon said. "But is that really true?"
"We should care, right? About what's happening in the world."
"There's a concept called compassion fatigue," Simon explained. "Excessive empathy breaks the heart."
Haru was surprised. "Empathy is bad?"
"It's a matter of quantity and quality. Trying to empathize with everything exhausts you."
Mio nodded slightly.
"What do you think, Mio?" Haru asked.
Mio didn't answer, but wrote in her notebook. "Distance is necessary."
"Distance?"
Simon interpreted. "Emotional distance. Not getting entangled in everything."
"Is that cold?" Haru asked anxiously.
"It's self-preservation," Simon answered. "Remember airplane safety instructions. Put on your own oxygen mask first."
"Self before others?"
"If you break, you can't help anyone."
Haru pondered. "But if indifference spreads, society becomes cold."
"That's also true," Simon admitted. "So balance is necessary."
Mio wrote again. "Selective attention."
"Selective?"
"Caring about everything is impossible," Simon explained. "So concentrate on problems close to you, problems where you can have impact."
Haru understood. "Prioritize."
"Yes. That's not indifference, but strategic consideration."
"But is it okay to ignore distant people's suffering?"
Simon looked troubled. "Peter Singer argues we should care equally about all suffering."
"Is that right?"
"Ideally. But psychologically sustainable is questionable."
Mio wrote again. "Perfect empathy is impossible."
"Exactly," Simon nodded. "Human empathy capacity has limits. Like Dunbar's number."
"Dunbar's number?"
"The number of people with whom humans can maintain stable relationships. About one hundred fifty."
Haru was surprised. "That few?"
"Evolutionary constraint. We evolved in small groups. Our brains can't keep up with global society."
"So not caring about distant people is natural?"
"Natural, but that doesn't make it right," Simon emphasized. "Natural and normative are different."
Haru was confused. "What do you mean?"
"We naturally tend toward indifference. But morally, we should care. This contradiction is the human condition."
Mio stood up. Looking out the window.
Haru asked. "How do you reconcile it, Mio?"
Mio was silent for a long time. Then quietly said.
"Small, deep."
"Small, deep?"
Simon interpreted. "Not broad and shallow, but deeply involved in few problems."
Mio nodded.
Haru understood. "Not quantity over quality, but quality over quantity."
"However," Simon added. "That's at the individual level. As a whole society, diverse people need to care about diverse problems."
"Division of labor?"
"Yes. I focus on environmental issues, you on education, Mio on arts support. Each contributes in their area of expertise."
Haru felt hopeful. "So being indifferent is okay? To some problems."
"The word indifference is misleading," Simon corrected. "It's choosing not to actively engage with certain problems as a result of prioritizing."
Mio wrote. "Guilt is unnecessary."
"Right," Simon agreed. "Blaming yourself for not being able to care about everything isn't productive."
Haru opened her notebook. "So what should I direct my attention to?"
"You should ask yourself," Simon said. "What's close to you. What can you influence. What are you passionate about."
Mio looked at Haru. Gentle eyes.
Haru smiled. "Education maybe. It's close and I think it's important."
"Good choice," Simon acknowledged. "And you're not ignoring other problems. You've just chosen your main battlefield."
Mio wrote again. "Indifference is not evil. Thoughtlessness is evil."
Simon read and nodded. "Deep insight. There's a difference between keeping distance after thought and ignoring without thought."
Haru felt relieved. "So not watching news is permissible if it's a choice?"
"If it's for self-preservation," Simon answered. "But not complete isolation. Moderate information intake."
Mio wrote lastly. "Protect yourself while caring for the world."
The three quietly returned to their books. Not indifference. Selective attention.
That might be a form of sustainable kindness.