The Unseen Crisis: Why I Finally Read ‘How to Know a Person’

The Question That Wouldn’t Go Away

“How to know a person?”

My initial reaction to that title was a dismissive eye-roll. Seriously? I’ve been navigating this world long enough. I have friends. I can hold a conversation. I can read an article and understand a biography. Why on earth would I need a book to teach me something so fundamental?

But I picked up David Brooks’s How to Know a Person anyway. And I couldn’t put it down.

I found myself struggling with a deeper question—one that felt sudden but was, of course, years in the making: How did we get here?

I’m talking about the atmosphere of political violence and the relentless tribalism that has settled over America. There’s a toxic sense that violence is justified for “my side” because the stakes—the ideology—have become existential. Like the chain of events leading up to the “powder keg” of World War I, our current division feels like the culmination of years of disconnection.

Listening to Brooks discuss this on NPR, I was intrigued by his final note of hope. He suggested the antidote to this existential polarization wasn’t a policy shift, but something far more intimate: a change in how we see each other.

Coincidentally, this quest for connection was also hitting close to home. Between my full-remote work and a changing life stage, I was struggling to genuinely socialize with people. The book hit me right in the soul: everyone on this planet yearns to be seen—not just physically, but inwardly—to be valued, heard, and understood.

The Guilt of the ‘Brand’

As I read, I faced a humbling realization: I am guilty of dehumanization.

I have been reducing people to their “brand”—how they are known, their profession, or the ‘group’ they are most obviously associated with (ethnic, political, etc.). I was “putting people into boxes.” I’d meet someone and immediately start filling in the blanks based on stereotypes or superficial similarities to others I knew.

Brooks argues that every person is a one-of-a-kind at this precise moment in time, shaped by a unique blend of ancestry, circumstance, experiences, decisions, and relationships.

For example, I identify as an Asian-American, and my life is undeniably traced to my ancestry, yet it’s been uniquely shaped by being the son of refugees fleeing a war-torn Cambodia. My “group” gives context, but my personal story defines the individual.

We are not static, either. We are not frozen in our “greatest hits” or our deepest wounds. A person I was ten years ago, or a person who has been changed by trauma—like the survivors of the tsunami mentioned in the book—is different from the person they are today. We are all living, adapting, and changing narratives.

Are We Even Listening? The Epidemic of Blindness

We know that empathy and listening are important. My head knows it. But my heart, my pride, and my ego often fight against it.

I believe our current social and economic structure—from the echo chambers of social media to the pressures of hyper-individualism—incentivizes this “Epidemic of Blindness.” Brooks cites that empathy and community are in decline, evidenced by the struggles of non-profits to fill volunteer roles.

But the core issue is not just a lack of goodwill; it’s a lack of true attention.

Most of the time, we aren’t listening; we’re just waiting for our turn to speak or shift the focus back to ourselves. We treat our attention span like a light dimmer, slowly inching up the focus (if at all) while one eye is on our phone or our mind is elsewhere.

Brooks argues that true listening must be an on/off switch: “May I have your undivided attention.” This is the practice of “framing,” putting the camera entirely onto the other person. He shares his own regretful experience on a panel where he failed to listen, prioritizing his own piece over genuinely engaging with the speaker.

The Humility of ‘Illumination’

The book taught me that empathy is a practiced skill. It is not, as the cliché goes, about “putting yourself in their shoes,” because that would require lived experiences I simply do not possess. I am not a single mother, nor am I a refugee fleeing violence. How I perceive the world is vastly different from their mental model.

Empathy is about recognizing this difference and actively trying to see the object or issue through their perspective.

Brooks calls the moment this clicks “illumination,” and it is incredibly powerful and humbling. He references Jimmy Dorrell, a man who sees the inherent worth in every human being, believing that each person possesses a “transcendent spark”—a soul—which makes us all equal at the deepest level.

This humility means admitting my assumptions are often wrong. It means knowing that I don’t know everything about a person before we even meet.

The Hope That Reaches Across Continents

This book has done the work of softening my heart, especially toward people I might otherwise view as an “enemy” simply because of a political or ideological disagreement. I am learning to silence my ego, which loves a good argument, and simply seek to understand.

What gives me profound hope is the idea that two people, with vastly different experiences, can truly empathize and understand one another. Brooks shares the powerful friendship between a writer and a man who survived the Rwandan genocide, a story that underlines both the danger of dehumanization and the power of connection.

The Rwandan genocide was a horrific reminder of what happens when empathy is completely annihilated—over a million Tutsi people were murdered, often by their own neighbors, because of ethnic hatred woven with a complex history.

Yet, from that tragedy, one man’s story offers redemption. Deo, a survivor, returned to his home country of Burundi to open a hospital that served both Hutu and Tutsi belligerent groups, treating everyone for medical care regardless of which side they were on.

In the end, I’ve found a renewed desire to rediscover what it means to be human—with common struggles, common experiences, and common joys—not just what I do for a living or what content is curated for me.

“I am human, and nothing human is alien to me.” – Terence (p. 121)

Thank you, David Brooks, for intersecting various disciplines and compelling stories into a cohesive journey. This is a book I will be returning to often.

What is a book you’ve read that fundamentally changed how you interact with people?

Consider a read by purchasing or borrowing from your local library.

AI Transparency Note: This article was edited and polished using Generative AI. All opinions expressed are solely my own, and I remain entirely responsible for the final content and accuracy.