Washington talks a lot about empathy. So do the states. The word gets tossed around until it starts to mean “feeling something,” or worse, performing something, without doing the hard work of changing outcomes.
Americans already sense there’s a difference between coddling and dignifying. One approach expands dependency or enabling and calls it compassion. The other creates opportunity, restores dignity, and produces real progress.
My Christian faith tradition and the Jewish moral concept of tzedakah frame it even more sharply. Tzedakah is often translated as charity, but it more literally points to righteousness: doing the right thing. The right thing is not simply relieving discomfort in the moment. The right thing is helping another human being reclaim the dignity of a productive life.
That distinction matters because our biggest disagreements today are not about whether people deserve compassion. Most people have compassion. The real disagreement is what compassion should do. Does it simply soothe a problem? Or does it restore a person’s ability to stand on their own two feet?
For me, “dignity-first empathy” means we help people through hard seasons, including job loss, illness, addiction, homelessness, and family disruption, in a way that builds a bridge back to stability and independence. It is not about abandoning people. It’s about refusing to trap them.
This is not an abstract idea. First lady Melania Trump recently sat alongside her husband as he signed an executive order to promote job training, temporary housing, and educational assistance for young adults aging out of foster care.
But one state, Georgia, is providing a dignity-first empathy model for the nation and shows how to provide practical “opportunity over dependency” in how we assist youth who age out of foster care so they don’t face a life of poverty, homelessness, or crime.
Each year, about 20,000 young adults age out of foster care without a family safety net. No parents to move them into a dorm. No aunt or uncle to co-sign a loan. No grandfather to call when the car breaks down. They don’t need pity. They need a path.
That is why, in Georgia, I helped form Fostering Success Act, Inc., a nonprofit organization built around a simple idea: young people aging out of foster care don’t need a lifetime of government dependency. They need a short runway, real coaching, and resources to gain skills so they can become independent and thrive.
Our model focuses on two essentials: A life coach — someone who walks alongside them, sets expectations, helps them navigate setbacks, and keeps them moving forward; and targeted financial resources so they can attend college or technical training and build real earning power.
This is not a handout. It’s an opportunity structure.
Georgia also created an innovative tool that makes more of this possible: the Fostering Success Act tax credit, which allows Georgia taxpayers to redirect state income tax dollars — dollar for dollar — to qualified organizations that help these young adults transition successfully into adulthood.
The point isn’t the label on the program. The point is the design: support that’s serious, but not permanent — paired with coaching, training, and an expectation of progress.
When help is designed this way, it restores dignity instead of eroding it. Dignity is not a soft concept. Dignity is the foundation of long-term self-sufficiency. It’s the internal belief that “I can,” reinforced by an external system that clears a path.
This model has an even bigger lesson for Georgia and for every level of government: we should judge programs by outcomes, not intentions. The most compassionate-sounding policy isn’t automatically the most compassionate policy. If a program expands dependency, crushes initiative, or turns people into permanent clients, it may feel caring — but it is not respecting the person.
Compassion without respect becomes pity. Pity does not elevate. It manages.
Dignity-first empathy respects people enough to expect more — and to support that expectation with real help: education, technical skills, apprenticeships, recovery pathways, job placement, and coaching. It also insists on accountability, because waste and fraud don’t just drain budgets — they destroy trust and steal resources from those who genuinely need help.
Here’s the principle I hope we can agree on across political lines: the purpose of assistance should be restoration. A bridge, not a bunker. A ladder, not a cage.
GOLD’S RISE AND THE NEW GLOBAL ARMS RACE
Freedom is dignity. And a society that wants people to flourish should design its help accordingly — not to create dependence, but to create opportunity, capability, and a productive future.
That is true empathy — and it’s the kind worth building.
Richard L. Jackson, a former foster child, is the chairman and CEO of Jackson Healthcare, as well as the chairman of Fostering Success Act, Inc. and Faith Bridge Foster Care.