„The world doesnât need more campaigns that look like they care. It needs creatives who actually do.“
When billionaires are trying to rebrand empathy as a design flaw, itâs clear weâve got a problem. As creative storytellers, wielding all the tools to shape perception, itâs time we stop using this so-called soft skill as just an aesthetic and start treating it like the hard-edged discipline it really is.
Six years ago, I stumbled into my first podcast appearance â fresh-faced and full of opinions. âDebriefâ was Virtueâs monthly stab at exploring cultural topics from an agency perspective, aiming for a designated culture of optimism. So there I was: starry-eyed, baby copywriter energy, yapping about âEmpathy: Savagery and Sensitivity in Times of Trumpâ; championing the idea that the key to genuine creative work was personally immersing yourself in various new experiences. âYou have to know what it feels like to sprint through a terminal hungover in order to be able to write a good ad for Easyjetâ. Get high on your own supply. That type of sentiment. Empathy solved.
Six years later I do ask myself: Does my romantic notion of personal experience as a gateway drug to emotional range still hold up? 2019 was a simpler time, not just for our industry. Twitter was not yet owned by a power-hungry maniac allowing for Nazis to take the reins, and Facebook was, well, still a thing.
In a world where its richest man openly calls it a âfundamental weaknessâ, a âbugâ, and even âsuicidalâ to Western civilization: What does empathy mean to our industry today?
Empathy is not a vibe. Itâs a responsibility.
Sorry babes, itâs time to check our privileges. Yes, again. Because I donât know who needs to hear this, but if you have access to a million-euro budget and a Cannes entry form, youâre not the underdog. Youâre the system.
Money, influence, and platform: We work in an industry of privilege. It’s imperative that we move beyond surface-level empathy, delving deeper into the societal and political ramifications of our work. Because for all our talk about inclusivity, most advertising agencies in this country still reflect a very narrow slice of society: white, straight, abled, and well-off. Hard stats are scarce, but anyone who’s ever walked into an average creative boardroom knows the setup: homogenous teams selling âinclusiveâ messages. That doesnât just skew representation â it limits imagination. Putting a Black couple in your TVC isnât the same as hiring Black creatives to concept it.
And thatâs the catch with empathy: it lets us inch toward someone elseâs world but never fully enter it. So the job isnât to perfectly nail a certain tone of voice â itâs also to know when to shut up, listen, and pass the mic.
The soft skill that should punch harder.
The most infamous example is Pepsi giving us Kendall Jenner handing a cop a soda during a protest â a moment so deeply tone-deaf it became a meme for corporate virtue signalling. It reduced a global cry for justice to a vibesy photo-op. No context, no consequence. Without action, empathy is just branding. Clearly, the world doesnât need more campaigns that look like they care. It needs creatives who actually do.
Ben & Jerryâs is one of the rare ones that still walk the talk. For years theyâve embedded real activism into their brand â not just through statements, but through who they hire, fund, and stand with. Whether itâs addressing climate change or LGBTQ+ rights, dismantling white supremacy or even working with grassroots organisations to fight mass incarceration in the US, their campaigns often involve tangible actions that support marginalised communities. Most recently they even butted heads with their parent company, Unilever, over their progressive stance and activism.
While thereâs a gutless wave of brands exposing their own hypocrisy happening, the iconic ice cream brand proves that genuine care isnât always sweet â sometimes, itâs confrontational. Empathy isn’t neutral. It requires taking sides, real risks and standing firm, even when it’s uncomfortable. I, for one, donât care for yet another rainbow-washed campaign. I care about a good chunk of those ad budgets going into the pockets of queer artists and rights activists, drag queens and other disenfranchised baddies.
More honourable mentions when it comes to courageous creative executions are Libresseâs #WombStories, challenging societal taboos by bringing often-silenced stories about miscarriage and intimate health to the forefront, as well as CoorDown’s ‚Assume That I Can‘, not just featuring people with Down syndrome but centring their voices, perspectives and agency.
TL;DR: Not a bug, but a reboot.
Real empathy is our industryâs most urgent update. It looks like asking whoâs not in the room or whether a campaign really is yours to tell. So next time our clients ask us to create something with âimpactâ, letâs use our access, budgets, and platforms to not just jump on a bandwagon â letâs build one ourselves and fill it with real demands for structural change. Because if weâre not practising empathy in how we work, weâre just polishing the surface of a broken system.