Gail has a bachelor of art in film/radio/tv and a bachelor of science in nursing
She has worked for years caring for all ages of people with many diagnoses in over 5 hospitals and schools around the texas hill country
Originally from north dakota, she is now based in austin and writes about sustainable energy for the website she created ‘What’s up Tesla’ and 'What's up Twitter' and maintains her nursing practice
Ascolto Elon per intero da anni, non a spezzoni di quattro minuti. Così, quando il Washington Post definisce «terrificante» il film veneziano di Alex Gibney e lo dipinge come «truffatore megalomane con un complesso di Dio», e il Guardian lo giudica «banale», «senza fascino» e «un ragazzaccio cresciuto male», faccio quello che farebbe chiunque abbia ancora la testa sulle spalle. Rileggo la lunga lista di quello che Elon Musk sta davvero consegnando.
La lista non comprende una gara al festival. Ha contribuito a Thank You for Smoking come produttore esecutivo. Ha anche interpretato se stesso in Iron Man 2. Carino. Non è il lavoro.
La lista sono booster riutilizzabili che atterrano su navi drone, terminali Starlink dove la fibra non è mai arrivata, dieci milioni di Tesla uscite di fabbrica e auto che la gente continua a comprare. Gibney non è riuscito a mettere Elon davanti alla camera, così ha costruito un burattino digitale per recitare vecchie citazioni, come un karaoke stregato. Elon ha detto no all’intervista. Gibney ha comunque animato un sosia e l’ha presentato nella sala principale di Venezia, sperando che gli applausi corressero più veloci delle fabbriche.
Gibney vende un montaggio di quattro ore fatto di ex partner, cofondatori estromessi e applausi da festival, come se un’ovazione fosse un crash test. Il Guardian può trovarlo noioso il lunedì e il mercoledì appiccicarlo a un’elezione tedesca come se avesse riempito lui le urne. I media tradizionali funzionano così. Prima la storia. Poi l’hardware.
La mia regola è semplice e non è cambiata da quando ho iniziato a scrivere contro il FUD. Guardate l’hardware. Contate i lanci. Fate un giro su un Cybercab qui ad Austin. Se un documentario ha bisogno di un fantasma di IA e di un’ovazione in piedi per dimostrare che Elon Musk è noioso, il fantasma vada a timbrare in catena. La catena, quella, lavora.
J’écoute Elon en entier depuis des années, pas en extraits de quatre minutes. Alors quand le Washington Post trouve le film vénitien d’Alex Gibney « terrifiant » et le peint en « escroc mégalomane avec un complexe de dieu », et que le Guardian le juge « banal », « sans charme » et « grand gamin mal élevé », je fais ce que ferait n’importe qui de sensé. Je reviens à la longue liste de ce qu’Elon Musk livre vraiment.
La liste n’inclut pas un concours de festival. Il a bien aidé à produire Thank You for Smoking comme producteur exécutif. Il a aussi joué son propre rôle dans Iron Man 2. Mignon. Ce n’est pas le métier.
La liste, c’est des boosters réutilisables qui se posent sur des barges, des terminaux Starlink là où la fibre n’est jamais arrivée, dix millions de Tesla sorties d’usine, et des voitures que les gens continuent d’acheter. Gibney n’a pas réussi à mettre Elon devant la caméra, alors il a fabriqué une marionnette numérique pour réciter de vieilles citations, comme une machine de karaoké hantée. Elon a dit non à l’interview. Gibney a quand même animé un sosie et l’a présenté dans la grande salle de Venise, en espérant que les applaudissements courraient plus vite que les usines.
Gibney vend un montage de quatre heures d’ex-compagnes, de cofondateurs évincés et d’applaudissements de festival comme si une ovation remplaçait un crash-test. Le Guardian peut le trouver ennuyeux le lundi, puis le mercredi le coller à une élection allemande comme s’il avait lui-même bourré les urnes. Les médias traditionnels fonctionnent comme ça. D’abord l’histoire. Ensuite le matériel.
Ma règle est simple, et elle n’a pas bougé depuis que j’écris contre le FUD. Regardez le matériel. Comptez les lancements. Prenez un Cybercab ici, à Austin. Si un documentaire a besoin d’un fantôme d’IA et d’une ovation debout pour prouver qu’Elon Musk est ennuyeux, le fantôme n’a qu’à pointer à la chaîne. La chaîne, elle, tourne.
Episode 188 is the day I sat inside a Tesla Cybercab.
No steering wheel. No pedals. Just joy.
Thank you, Elon. The future is real, and it is this beautiful.
This episode was filmed on Cybercab launch day in Austin. I climbed into the two-seater, looked at that empty dash with the CYBERCAB script across it, and felt something I have been waiting years to feel in person: a car built from the ground up for riding, not driving.
Watch Episode 188 here:
Gail’s Tesla Podcast Ep. 188 I sat inside a Cybercab at Austin Fairgrounds today. No wheel. no pedals. Just joy. Thank you Elon. The future is real and it is this beautiful ♥️ pic.twitter.com/SZpaTIUnsO
I have taken a lot of unsupervised Robotaxi rides in Model Ys here in Austin. Those rides already feel like history. This was different.
Cybercab is not a regular Tesla with the driver controls left unused. There is nothing left unused. The front of the cabin is open. The seats face a clean interior, a wide screen, and that little CYBERCAB mark where a steering wheel would have been for more than a century.
I was wearing my I ❤️ ELON shirt and red pants, sunglasses on, gold nails catching the Texas light, and I kept reaching out to touch things the way you do when your brain is still catching up with your eyes. The leatherlike seats. The cupholders. The speaker grille. The simple controls on the door. Every detail said: this vehicle was designed for people, not for a person who has to keep a hand near a wheel.
My daughter Grace sat beside me. Two seats. That is the whole cabin. It feels intimate and calm, like the car already knows the job is to carry you, not to ask you to work.
What the Video Shows
Episode 188 is short on purpose. About three and a half minutes. I wanted you to sit there with me.
You will see:
The first look from outside, with the cabin inset so you can see the empty dash and the Cybercab lettering
The two of us buckled in, laughing, taking in a vehicle with no driver controls at all
Close looks at the seats, cupholders, door controls, and speakers
Downtown Austin moving past the windows while the cabin stays quiet and bright
That last beat of me sitting there, hand on my face, trying to put a feeling into words
I did not need a long speech. The car is the speech.
Why This One Matters
For years I have covered Tesla Full Self-Driving, unsupervised Robotaxi rides in Model Ys, and the promise of a purpose-built robotaxi. Episode 188 is the moment that promise became a seat I could sit in.
Model Y Robotaxi proved the software on streets I actually use. Cybercab is the next chapter: a vehicle that does not pretend a human might grab the wheel. That absence is not a missing feature. It is the point.
Launch day in Austin was noisy in the best way with people circling the gold two-seaters, phones up, lambo doors up, the feeling that the city had just been handed a new kind of gold Roman chariot. I wanted this episode to keep the human part. As a woman from Austin sitting in the car and telling you the truth: it made me happy.
If you have followed this podcast from the early FSD drives through the unsupervised Robotaxi rides, this is one of the episodes we were driving toward.
Watch Next
Episode 189 was filmed entirely inside a Cybercab here in Austin with Grok answering fast, a simulated job-interview coaching moment, and Ashok Elluswamy from Cybercab launch day. Episode 188 is the sit-down. Episode 189 is the ride that follows.
Join the Conversation
Have you sat in a Cybercab yet, or taken one through the Robotaxi app in Austin?
What hits you first, is it the the missing wheel, the two-seat cabin, or the feeling that the future finally has a door you can open?
Drop your thoughts in the comments. I read every one.
Stay curious. Stay adventurous. And keep enjoying the ride ahead! 🚕✨
Previous on the blog: Episodes 186 & 187 – Iba Thiam’s First Supervised FSD Ride
(Austin, Texas) Episode 186 and 187 are a two-part conversation with actor Iba Thiam (@IbaAwaThiam), who lives here in Austin. We recorded in the car while Tesla Full Self-Driving (Supervised) handled the roads, this was Iba’s first time experiencing it.
He is known for roles in Alita: Battle Angel, Queen of the South (Bilal), The Chosen, The Leftovers, and Wu-Tang: An American Saga. What I loved about this episode is that it is not only a first-FSD reaction. It is also the story of how he came to America from Senegal, how he got started as an actor, and how he learned to belong in a new place.
We split it into two parts because the conversation kept opening up.
Watch Part 1 here (first FSD ride, acting career, coming to America):
Episode 186 of Gail’s podcast with @IbaAwaThiam He tries Tesla Full Self-Driving (Supervised) for the first time and is amazed. We also talk about his acting career, coming to America, and how he got started. This is Pt. 1 of our conversation! pic.twitter.com/0GMVNT2A76
Watch Part 2 here (the conversation continues and gets even more interesting):
Episode 187 of Gail’s podcast with @IbaAwaThiam We continue the conversation in Austin and it gets even more interesting. He tries Tesla FSD Supervised and is amazed. This is Pt. 2. pic.twitter.com/Aoc6SIg5jH
Iba sat in the passenger seat for his first supervised FSD ride and was genuinely amazed watching the car take over. That first-time reaction never gets old. You can see it on his face: the car is the captain now, and we get to talk.
While FSD moved us through Austin, Iba talked about:
How he got into acting and the grind of finding representation (including those “speed dating” sessions with agents)
Coming to America and what it takes to feel like you belong
How easy it is to take ordinary things for granted
Why he likes being a little uncomfortable — that is often where the next chapter starts
Phones as one of the biggest causes of accidents, which landed differently while the car was driving itself
Part 2 stays in Austin and goes deeper. Same warmth, same curiosity, more of the story.
Why This One Matters
This is the kind of episode I want more of. A working actor who lives in this city, experiencing Tesla FSD for the first time, talking honestly about craft, risk, and starting over. The technology is the setting. The person is the point.
If you have ever wondered what it feels like to hand the wheel to FSD with someone seeing it for the first time, start with Part 1. If you want the rest of Iba’s story, go straight into Part 2.
Join the Conversation
Have you watched Episodes 186 and 187 yet? What stood out — Iba’s first FSD reaction, his path into acting, or the conversation about belonging?
Drop your thoughts in the comments. I read every one.
Stay curious. Stay adventurous. And keep enjoying the ride ahead! 🚕✨
Previous on the blog: Episode 172 – Zuby
Had such a great time meeting Iba Thiam and recording a podcast with him today! Can’t wait to share the episode tomorrow ( he just started a new account here on X. Please follow him @IbaAwaThiam ) pic.twitter.com/vWnv6JND9l
Episode 185 is two unsupervised Robotaxi rides through Austin on a brutal Texas afternoon — and then a second ride from the Four Seasons to pizza.
The first cab was sitting at 66°F while it was 106°F outside. That alone felt like the future. Then the car did two things that still make me smile: it accepted a last-minute destination change, and it cut through a gas station the way only a veteran Austin driver would.
Watch Episode 185 here:
Gail’s Podcast Ep 185: Two Robotaxi rides in Austin. The cab is cool at 66°F while 106°F out! It made a last-minute destination change and a clever gas-station cut-through that only a veteran driver would pull off. The other took me from the Four Seasons to Austin’s best pizza! pic.twitter.com/odIV7sGfr7
Ride One — Availability, A/C, and That Gas-Station Cut-Through
I was surprised how many Robotaxis were available. In that same part of Austin, the wait used to stretch toward 20 minutes. This time it was about two minutes. I even posted about it, and Elon reposted it.
Once I was in, I didn’t have to keep diving in and out of the app. The cabin was already cold. The screen showed the outside temperature in the mid-100s and the cabin locked at 66. That contrast — melting on the sidewalk, then stepping into quiet, cold air with no driver — never stops feeling historic.
The routing was the real star. I changed the destination late, and the car handled it. Then it did that clever gas-station cut-through. Nobody on the lot even looked twice. The vehicle just took the efficient line, the way a local would, and kept going toward Northwest Hills.
That is the difference between a demo and a product. It is not only staying in the lane. It is solving Austin in real time.
Ride Two — Four Seasons to Pizza
The second ride started at the Four Seasons Hotel. The Robotaxi pulled into the driveway, the screen was clean — no fingerprints, dark mode, “Start Ride” — and we rolled out toward pizza.
Leaving a hotel porte-cochère with no driver in the seat still looks like science fiction against those columns and downtown streets. Then it is just… a ride. Dinner. Ordinary life, except the car is doing the work.
That is what I want people to see in this episode. Not a lab. Not a press event. A hot Austin day, a last-minute change, a shortcut through a gas station, and a hotel-to-pizza trip.
Why These Two Rides Matter
Robotaxi is getting useful. Shorter waits. Cabin already comfortable before you sit down. Destination changes that stick. Local routing that looks like judgment, not a rigid map line.
Every one of these rides is a small public record of what unsupervised autonomy feels like on the streets I actually use.
Join the Conversation
Have you taken a Robotaxi in this heat yet? What impressed you more — the wait time, the cold cabin, or a routing move you did not expect?
Drop your thoughts in the comments. I read every one.
Stay curious. Stay adventurous. And keep enjoying the ride ahead! 🚕✨
See other Episodes 186 & 187 – Iba Thiam’s First Supervised FSD Ride
Gad Saad’s Chapter 5 takes on one of the most dangerous ideas in modern discourse: the notion that science can ever be truly “settled.” Using powerful historical examples and recent events, Saad shows how declaring certain conclusions beyond debate does not protect truth. Instead, it often protects power, prestige, and comfortable beliefs while harming real people. This chapter is a clear warning about what happens when empathy overrides evidence and when we stop allowing science to remain falsifiable and open to correction.
The Semmelweis Reflex: When New Evidence Threatens Old Beliefs
Saad opens with the story of Ignaz Semmelweis, the 19th-century Hungarian obstetrician who discovered that doctors were spreading childbed fever by moving from autopsies to deliveries without washing their hands. His simple solution of scrubbing with a chlorinated lime solution between patients dramatically cut death rates. Yet his ideas were ridiculed, blacklisted, and he was eventually driven from his position years before Louis Pasteur’s germ theory was accepted. Semmelweis was right, but the medical establishment could not accept that their own practices were killing mothers.
Saad pairs this with the more recent case of Barry Marshall and Robin Warren, who proved in the 1980s that Helicobacter pylori bacteria, not stress or spicy food, caused most stomach ulcers. Marshall even drank the bacteria himself to demonstrate causation. Both stories reveal the same pattern: established institutions resist ideas that challenge prevailing wisdom, even when lives are at stake.
This resistance is what Saad calls the Semmelweis reflex, the knee-jerk rejection of evidence that threatens comfortable norms. It shows how difficult it is for even highly educated people to accept that science is never finished.
Misguided Empathy Becomes Peak Anti-Science
Saad’s central argument is that misplaced empathy often fuels this resistance. When we prioritize protecting feelings, preserving consensus, or avoiding the discomfort of admitting we were wrong, we create taboo trade-offs. We refuse to weigh real costs and benefits because doing so feels disloyal to the dominant narrative. The result is the shutdown of inquiry.
Saad draws on Karl Popper’s principle that genuine science must remain open to falsification. Once we declare something “settled,” we stop doing science. Empathy then becomes a tool to shield bad ideas rather than a guide toward truth.
Taboo Trade-Offs on Full Display: COVID Policies and Selective Compassion
Nowhere is this dynamic clearer than in the COVID era. Strict lockdowns and mandates were framed as acts of community care and empathy. People were told that supporting the measures and getting vaccinated proved they cared about others. Yet the same rules were not applied evenly.
Saad highlights the irony of 1,288 liberal activists and public health officials signing a letter claiming it was acceptable to attend large BLM marches after George Floyd’s death, while families were forbidden from visiting dying loved ones in hospitals. If you understood the pain of being Black in a country described as steeped in white supremacy, the argument went, then marching was worth the risk. Empathy was selectively granted.
Voices who opposed the measures were silenced. Medical doctors and professors who pointed to data showing the chance of death from COVID was extremely low for many groups often had their accounts shut down on platforms such as Twitter and YouTube. Debate was treated as dangerous rather than as part of normal scientific inquiry.
Elon Musk has publicly highlighted this exact problem by referencing Gad Saad’s concept of “suicidal empathy.” In a widely shared clip, Musk explains how excessive compassion toward certain groups can become self-destructive to society as a whole. [You can insert the link to the clip here: https://x.com/XFreeze/status/2056406145292546107]
When Empathy Overrides Evidence in Climate and Transgender Policies
Saad shows the same pattern repeating in climate activism and in the push for immediate transgender affirmation in children. In each case, empathy is invoked to make certain questions off-limits. Questioning policy becomes framed as lacking compassion, so real trade-offs, failed predictions, and emerging evidence are never honestly examined. Those who raise concerns, often people with more cautious or conservative perspectives, are accused of being cold or uncaring.
This is the heart of what Saad means by taboo trade-offs. Important decisions require weighing benefits against genuine human costs. When empathy is weaponized to declare those trade-offs morally unspeakable, serious analysis stops. Science and reason take a back seat to emotional appeals and ideological loyalty.
A Chapter That Demands Honest Reflection
This chapter is the needed antidote to adhering to settled science. It is critically important to be willing to shift your mindset and shut down the flow of endless irrational empathy.
Chapter 5 is one of the most important in Suicidal Empathy. Saad shows how the same forces operate today whenever empathy is used to shut down debate rather than to seek truth. The chapter leaves the reader with a clear choice: continue protecting narratives at all costs, or recommit to the uncomfortable but necessary work of open inquiry.
This book, and especially this chapter, should be widely read. It offers a powerful reminder that real compassion requires the courage to examine evidence, even when it challenges our current beliefs. I highly recommend it.
Excited to continue sharing these reviews with you all.
In Chapter 4 of Gad Saad’s Suicidal Empathy, titled “Blank Slate Felons,” the author opens with powerful, real-world examples that show how excessive empathy for criminals overrides justice and public safety.
One case involves Stephen Federico, whose 22-year-old daughter Logan, who happened to be White, was murdered in a 2025 home invasion in Columbia, South Carolina. The alleged killer, Alexander Dickey, was a repeat offender with nearly 40 prior arrests and 25 felonies, yet he remained free on the street.
Another is the story of Travis Lewis. In 1996, as a teenager, he murdered Sally Snowden McKay and her nephew in Arkansas. Sally’s daughter, Martha McKay, a devout Buddhist committed to forgiveness, visited Lewis in prison for over two decades, advocated for his parole, and after his 2018 release gave him a job and a place to live on the family property. In 2020, Lewis murdered Martha as well.
A third example comes from Springfield, Ohio in 2023, where roughly 20,000 Haitian immigrants had settled in just three years. Eleven-year-old Aiden Clark was killed when a minivan driven by a Haitian immigrant struck his school bus. His father, Nathan Clark, initially expressed anger over illegal immigration but later publicly stated that he wished his son had been killed by a 60-year-old white man instead, so the tragedy would not be politicized.
The Shift: From Criminals to Cultural Irony
Saad writes this chapter with remarkable clarity and biting irony. He moves from these heartbreaking cases into a deeper examination of gender dynamics and liberal empathy. He points out the contradiction in how some women, particularly liberal women, routinely label brave, strong, and courageous men as “misogynistic” and “toxic.” Yet in reality, most women are not attracted to weak or passive men when choosing a partner. They are drawn to men who treat women well while also being strong, protective, and courageous.
The chapter then reveals a disturbing pattern: liberal women frequently come to the defense of violent criminals and rapists, especially when those men belong to “marginalized communities.” This misplaced compassion often prioritizes avoiding any perception of racism over the safety and justice of actual victims.
When Compassion Becomes Self-Destructive
Saad shares the story of Selin Goren, a young left-wing German politician who was violently assaulted. She initially told police her attackers spoke colloquial German. Later she admitted they had spoken Arabic or Farsi, but she lied because she did not want to encourage racism or marginalize migrant communities.
Even more heartbreaking is the case of a young German woman volunteering at a refugee camp. One evening she was followed and murdered by an immigrant from the camp. Her grieving family asked that no flowers be sent to her funeral. Instead, they requested donations to the very refugee camp that had produced her killer, so the people there would not feel marginalized.
The legal system itself often compounds the problem. In one German case, a woman who encountered a prematurely released gang rapist in public called him a “disgusting pig.” Because he came from a marginalized background, her words were treated as a hate crime. She was jailed for the weekend, while the rapist had received lenient treatment out of “compassion.”
When the System Fails: The Need for Real Protection
This chapter is an incredible wake-up call. It exposes the ridiculousness of shielding violent migrants, many of whom entered the West illegally and who, if returned to their home countries, would likely face persecution or even execution for their crimes. The pattern Saad documents is repeated with disturbing frequency.
I believe this chapter should be required reading for women who take self-defense classes and strongly encouraged for young women on university campuses. Understanding these dynamics is essential for personal safety.
While Saad highlights the dangers of misplaced empathy and the resulting vulnerability of women in parts of Europe, he does not specifically discuss the right to bear arms in America. That said, as my own observation, American women have meaningful tools for self-defense, including the legal ability to carry firearms, mace, or stun guns. This stands in contrast to many European countries, where self-defense options are far more restricted.
A powerful new film that captures this exact tension is Citizen Vigilante, starring Armie Hammer and directed by Uwe Boll. When the system fails to protect the innocent, one man takes justice into his own hands. It’s a raw, unflinching look at what happens when citizens are left with no choice but to defend themselves. You can watch the trailer and learn more here:
In a very real sense, it is like one side entering a conflict armed while the other is only permitted to hold flowers. The right to bear arms remains one of the most practical protections available to women in the United States and should be preserved.
A Chapter That Should Not Be Ignored
Saad makes it clear that this form of “suicidal empathy,” especially when it shields violent criminals while disarming or silencing their potential victims, is not an exception. In too many cases across the West, it has become the rule.
Chapter 4 is one of the most important and unsettling in the book. It should not be ignored.
The audiobook version, read by Gad Saad himself, is outstanding. His voice brings these stories and arguments to life in a way that makes the material even more powerful and immediate. If you care about truth, justice, and the safety of women and girls, this chapter and the entire book deserve your attention.
Looking forward to reviewing Chapter 5 soon – Gail Alfar
In Chapter 3 of Gad Saad’s book Suicidal Empathy, titled “Cultural Theory of Mind,” the author examines how demographic and cultural shifts unfold in Western societies when large numbers of people from incompatible cultures arrive and do not assimilate. Building on the foundation laid in the earlier chapters, this section offers one of the clearest accounts yet of a process that is already visible in Europe and increasingly evident in parts of the United States.
Saad describes a recurring pattern. When the population in question is small, its members are often viewed as an exotic presence that adds color and interest to the host society. As their numbers increase, they frequently adopt a posture of victimhood, claiming they are underrepresented and entitled to additional rights and accommodations under Western legal systems. Large public prayers in town squares have become one visible expression of this stage in several European countries and in some American cities. In the later stage, when the population becomes large enough to exercise significant political influence, Saad reports being told by Arabic-speaking friends that Islam views America as “a woman to be mounted.” He pairs this observation with the consistent refusal of many within these communities to adopt the core values of the societies that have accepted them.
Empathy Without Boundaries
A central theme of the chapter is the role of misplaced empathy in accelerating these changes. Saad illustrates this with a street interview of a woman with pink-dyed hair who expressed strong support for Palestine. When the interviewer asked whether she understood that people there might kill her if she went, she replied that it did not matter because she was still going to respect them as human beings. Pressed further, she answered, “No, I’m still going to support them because it’s the right thing to do.” When told that such a stance might one day result in her own death, she responded, “Then that’s the way I was meant to go.”
Saad connects this form of self-sacrificial empathy to a deeper pattern in which Westerners extend compassion even to those who reject the most basic principles of individual rights and human dignity. He uses the analogy of a wood cricket whose brain is hijacked by a parasite, causing it to act against its own survival. The same dynamic, he argues, leads some to tolerate or excuse the sexual abuse of children when it occurs within certain cultural frameworks, all in the name of cultural relativism.
Shortly after the October 7, 2022 Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians, including the massacre at a music festival, I went to the Texas State Capitol as a citizen journalist to document the response. Within just a few days, activists were already holding rallies in defense of Palestine while showing little to no empathy for the murdered Israelis. I shared what I witnessed here:
Citizen Journalism. Meet an Israeli who lost family members and a Palestinian who organized a rally today. Super interesting discussion and interview. I learned a lot. – at Capitol of Texas pic.twitter.com/KJu6bBHXD6
Saad also addresses a common objection raised against critics of mass immigration. Because Elon Musk immigrated to the United States, some argue that he lacks standing to criticize current immigration policies, including the entry of individuals with criminal records. Saad identifies the underlying fallacy: the assumption that simply being human automatically makes every other person equally suited to American society and equally entitled to unrestricted access. This view treats individuals as interchangeable units and ignores the importance of culture, values, and conduct.
Why Some Cultures Are Better
In one of the more direct passages, Saad states that a culture is objectively better when it prohibits the genital mutilation of young girls, when it does not permit the rape of children, and when it does not execute people for being gay by throwing them from rooftops. He asserts that American culture meets these standards and is therefore superior to cultures that normalize such practices. He notes that this conclusion has become difficult to state openly. He further observes that even some men now appear to extend greater empathy toward cultures that engage in these practices than toward their own.
Chapter 3 presents a coherent account of how certain forms of empathy, combined with large-scale demographic change and non-assimilation, can undermine the institutions and norms of open societies. The material is presented in a direct style that rewards careful reading. Anyone concerned about the long-term cohesion of Western countries would benefit from engaging with the arguments Saad advances in this chapter.
Here is my quick review of Gad Saad’s Chapter 2 (“Forbidden Knowledge”) of Suicidal Empathy: Dying to Be Kind
The attached image matches the decorative Art Deco-style chapter header for this section.
Chapter 2 dives into “forbidden knowledge”, meaning truths that get suppressed not because they’re false, but because they’re unwelcome or might rattle favored narratives. Drawing from Roger Shattuck and Milton’s Paradise Lost, Saad shows how suicidal empathy turns into a censorship machine. Instead of facing reality, people start hiding or softening hard truths simply because someone might get upset or outraged. He calls this dangerous and self-destructive form of empathy “suicidal empathy.”
Harvard’s Treatment of Roland Fryer
One of the sharpest examples in the chapter is Roland Fryer Jr., who became Harvard’s youngest Black tenured professor. When he published data showing that the narrative of constant white supremacy in policing and education didn’t match reality, the backlash was swift and severe. Claudine Gay, then a dean and later Harvard’s president, led the campaign against him. Harvard ultimately suspended Fryer for two years without pay and permanently shut down his research lab. Saad presents this as suicidal empathy in action: shielding a preferred victimhood narrative took priority over truth and merit. The irony is hard to miss as Gay herself was later found to have plagiarized in multiple academic papers and resigned as president.
More Suppression of Unwelcome Scientific Inquiry
Saad extends the Harvard example to other cases, such as the hostile reception that greeted Philippe Rushton’s research on race and cranial size at a psychology conference. He uses this to show how entire lines of research become “forbidden” when they challenge liberal assumptions. Suppressing research in the name of empathy prevents honest discussion of topics like group differences, crime statistics, or immigration patterns. It puts protecting certain political views ahead of finding out what’s actually true.
Trump’s Ban from Twitter
One clear example is Donald Trump’s ban from Twitter. Many on the left didn’t just think it was okay — they believed it was good and necessary. They saw Trump as such a serious threat that normal free speech rules shouldn’t apply to him. Saad uses this as a perfect example of suicidal empathy: people were willing to break important principles if it meant stopping someone they strongly opposed. The same pattern appeared when the Hunter Biden laptop story was kept quiet before the election, and when certain topics were treated as too dangerous to discuss openly. Saad also notes that this kind of control over information has old roots, from historical inquisitions to recent U.S. government efforts like the Disinformation Governance Board (the board only existed under the Biden administration).
Homelessness Policies and the Cost of Misplaced Empathy
Gad also addressed homelessness which is a topic dear to me here in Austin. Progressive cities often handle homelessness by refusing to address the real root causes of severe mental illness and addiction. Instead of requiring treatment or enforcing basic behavior standards, many leaders blame capitalism and push euphemisms like “unhoused” to avoid uncomfortable realities. This approach turns public spaces meant for everyone into de facto shelters.
I saw this firsthand recently at the Austin Public Library at Republic Square. It’s a beautiful, $125 million facility built to be a safe, family-friendly place. Instead, large parts of it have been taken over by homeless individuals using it as a daytime shelter. People were sleeping on the floor, spreading out their belongings around the computers, and treating the space more like a Greyhound station than a library. Outside in the plaza, benches and open areas were occupied with makeshift setups. The atmosphere felt uneasy and unwelcoming. It is not the kind of place where families, mothers, or children would want to spend time.
This is what happens when empathy has no boundaries. Public resources meant for the whole community get repurposed, safety standards slip, and regular citizens, especially families, end up avoiding spaces they once used freely. The book argues this isn’t compassion; it’s suicidal empathy that ultimately harms everyone, including the people it claims to help.
How This Mindset Spreads Into Culture
Chapter 2 shows how this same “protect feelings over facts” thinking shows up in other parts of society. After George Floyd, many news outlets started mentioning race in their crime reporting in uneven ways, highlighting it in some cases but downplaying it in others. In academia, fields like Fat Studies push the idea that feelings matter more than biology, which has even led to things like “weight stigma czars” in some cities. The chapter also points out the rise of strange new language, such as rebranding pedophiles as “minor-attracted people.”
Saad closes the chapter with a critical reminder: sometimes you must make practical decisions to protect yourself and your family, even if it makes people uncomfortable. He uses the old story of the Scorpion and the Frog to make his main point: reality doesn’t care about your feelings. When empathy is pushed too far and used to avoid hard truths, it often ends up hurting the very people it claims to help.
In the opening chapter of Suicidal Empathy, Gad Saad begins by affirming empathy as an evolved and noble virtue central to our social nature. He explains that it is adaptive and beneficial when properly calibrated, aiding in relationships, friendships, mate selection, and caregiving professions such as nursing and medicine.
Saad notes that empathy is partly inherited and measurable, and that too little of it can make someone callous, while the right amount, directed at the right targets, strengthens human connection. He then shows how this same virtue can become maladaptive when it is hyperactive, misdirected, or allowed to override reason and practical realities.
This is where empathy shifts from helpful to harmful. What Saad calls “suicidal empathy.” I recently experienced a clear example of this dynamic in action at the Austin Public Library. I went there hoping to relax and read, only to find the space dominated by middle-aged male vagrants.
When I spoke with a librarian about the environment, she defended the situation by explaining that these individuals are “part of the community” the library serves.
The policy effectively prioritizes access for disruptive transients over creating a safe, welcoming space for families, women, and regular patrons. It felt like a textbook case of maladaptive empathy at the institutional level. Well-intentioned compassion that ends up making public resources unusable for the very people they were meant to serve.
Saad’s framework in Chapter 1 helps explain why this happens: when empathy is decoupled from boundaries, consequences, and the well-being of the broader community, it can erode the very institutions it claims to protect.
I’m looking forward to sharing a my Review of Chapter 2 with you soon. – Gail Alfar