Care vs. Concern: the difference between wanting change and making it happen
We travel across the world for Ayahuasca ceremonies in Mexico, regenerative leadership conferences in Bali, or ISTA trainings in Turkey. We also have VW buses, fueled with diesel. Joining protests or political movements is not part of our life plan. Engaging in local community services or environmental cleanups is not a priority for us.
We are the hippies, hackers, and hipsters who subscribe to regenerative futures, people who want to change the world, people who say they care.
It leaves me wondering: do we?
“I believe the starting point for building a more caring society is never forgetting that care and uncare are inherent parts of us all, and that each seeks expression and dominance over the other; also remembering that just because care wins a struggle with uncare one day, it does not mean its way will endure.
The struggle with uncare is ongoing. Because of this, care needs robust frameworks in place, and a culture of care to support and protect them.”
— Sally Weintrobe
Do we care?
There is a difference between “care” and “concern.”
According to developmental theorist Robert Kegan, as adults grow and mature, their sphere of concern typically expands from self-centered interests to include broader, more inclusive ones—potentially encompassing the entire planet or even the universe, assuming optimal development.
Kegan posits that adult development involves a series of stages characterized by increasingly complex ways of understanding the self and the world. According to him, individuals throughout life develop greater capacities for perspective-taking and empathy and move through the following stages:
- Initial Stages: In the early stages of our life, we have a relatively narrow sphere of concern, focusing primarily on our personal needs and immediate relationships.
- Intermediate Stages: As we mature, we begin to recognize and value the perspectives and needs of others, thus broadening our sphere of concern to include communities and larger social groups.
- Advanced Stages: In the most advanced stages, we adopt a more global or universal perspective, where our concern extends to the well-being of all humanity and even the planet as a whole.
Concern acknowledges problems, but it does not inherently compel action. This passive form of concern often manifests as worry, empathy, or distress without the accompanying motivation or commitment to intervene or make a change.
Concern is a starting point, but without transformation into care, it remains inert—a recognition of problems without the momentum to change them.
Concern is a starting point, but without transformation into care, it remains inert—a recognition of problems without the momentum to change them.
Care, in contrast, is an active state, invariably resulting in action.
When we truly care about an issue or a person, this emotional investment drives us to take tangible steps toward supporting, resolving, or improving the situation.
Unlike passive concern, care is a proactive approach, where we feel a sense of responsibility and urgency to make a difference in times of trouble.
Martin Heidegger articulated the concept of "care" (Sorge) as fundamental to being. Care, in Heideggerian terms, is more than an emotional state; it's an ontological condition that defines how we relate to the world.
Transforming concern into care involves a fundamental reorientation of our being towards purposeful, ethical engagement with our surroundings.
Concern is insufficient to address the challenges of our times.
While we might be concerned about them, we don’t necessarily care, as genuine care implies a commitment to taking actionable steps.
So, when I say that I care about species extinction, climate change, and social inequality, but I knowingly continue harmful actions, then I don’t actually care, but I might be concerned.
I think this distinction is important because one of the first things to do is to acknowledge where we are at, to face things as they are, and more importantly to face how we are—with as little distortion as possible. For many of us—when we are true to ourselves—we have to say that “we don’t care.”
Care for close friends and relatives is becoming rare.
Care workers are undervalued.
Caring about the more-than-human or people who are physically and emotionally distant, whom we don’t know, is even rarer.
Entanglement and Agency
I have noticed a shift in discourse in the last couple of years. The questions used to be around how to make people care about environmental issues. The assumption was that there is a gap between knowledge and action because of a lack of care.
The question has now moved towards how to ease the suffering of people who do care, implying that we already sufficiently care and that it’s our entanglement and co-constitution within a maladaptive system causing mental suffering and an inability to act.
Our entanglement in complex systems often feels like an invisible force pulling us away from alignment with our values, leaving us stranded between intention and action. We feel like the very essence of our compassionate spirits is suffocated by the complexities and contradictions of a world built on degenerative principles.
Unseen forces seem to pull the threads of our care into a machinery of societal and ecological degradation. Our care is awakened, but we can’t unshackle our capacity to translate that care into transformative action.
But if care is fundamentally about action, then breaking through entanglement is itself an act of care.
To care is not only to recognize what is wrong but to find small ruptures in the system—opportunities where change can emerge despite the constraints. If concern asks ‘What can be done?’ care insists, ‘Where is the opening?’
If concern asks ‘What can be done?’ care insists, ‘Where is the opening?’
It acknowledges that no single person can dismantle an entrenched system alone, but that even within entanglement, there are spaces where agency can be exercised.
This shift in discourse can be seen as a shift from the individual towards systems.
Instead of wanting to change the individual and how each of us overcomes the knowledge-action gap, we now focus on wanting to change the systems that cause the trouble in the first place.
Generally, I support such a shift.
Yes, we are deeply entangled with our social-ecological realities, and there is no escaping the system. We might want to care, yet due to the constraints of the system, our care cannot fully be expressed, or we don’t really know how to.
Also, yes though, we have agency, and there are many choices we can make—as so-called individuals.
It seems to be a thin line to balance between feeling like a separate individual who is fully in charge of things and feeling like a powerless victim who is unable to do anything unless the system changes.
“…for interdependent beings in more than human entanglements, there has to be some form of care going on somewhere in the substrate of their world for living to be possible.”
— María Puig de la Bellacasa
But in reality, it’s not a line to balance, but a spectrum to move around on.
On one end of the spectrum, we think of ourselves above the system, operating independently and in full control of our actions. On the other end of the spectrum, we see ourselves as victims, unable to change anything without systemic transformation.
Though we cannot fully escape the systems we live within, we can carve out spaces of agency, resisting their most harmful currents.
Though we cannot fully escape the systems we live within, we can carve out spaces of agency, resisting their most harmful currents.
Take financial pressures, for instance: escaping the need to make money or affording organic food can be tough. Conversely, choices like flying less, avoiding SUVs, or eschewing fur coats “might be” more within our control.
Ultimately, the degree of agency we possess over our daily decisions often correlates with our level of privilege. The more resources and options available to us, the more power we have to make choices aligned with our values, reducing our reliance on degenerative parts of the system.
“If we care about the futures of our children, and their children, such a task is a moral obligation. If we want to see a universe that isn’t cold and lifeless, but increasingly sentient and creative, then it is also a spiritual obligation.”
— Bobby Azarian
Being co-constituted with the system then doesn’t mean that we are unable to make choices and through that are able to change it.
We are relational, co-constituted beings, deeply entangled with our social-ecological realities. At the same time, we possess the agency to make meaningful choices that reflect our ethical commitments and concerns.
We can take responsibility. We can care.
Being entangled in a system does not mean we are powerless within it. Care is a form of quiet rebellion—an insistence that we will not let complexity be an excuse for inaction.
It is through care, not just concern, that we begin to loosen the system’s grip and open new possibilities for change.
Jessica explores the art of practical philosophy, helping others develop their own philosophy to navigate the challenges of the Anthropocene. Her work is a blend of interdisciplinary insights—from ecology and sustainability to spirituality and psychology—crafted into wisdom you can apply to daily life.
For more thought-provoking reflections on living a good life in a complex, changing world, visit Rewilding Philosophy to discover how to live in right relation, embrace paradoxes, and thrive in the gooey soup of meaning-making.
