Two Faces of Caring

Originally Published on LinkedIn 15 February 2026

I have been sitting with a quiet unease that refuses to resolve itself for a few years when it comes to "Caring Science" in the profession of nursing for a several reasons. First, I think it does a poor job in crediting its historic and cultural roots which are deeply entrenched in Eastern philosophy which predates nursing by thousands of years. Second, is it's rebranding to fit a capitalistic model which is for sale for those who can afford to pay, costing some organizations hundreds of thousands of dollars for the affiliation. Third, is caring a science or are we just teaching language and mimicry? But, the next point is what rubs me the wrong way... How are we reconciling the lack of outside the institutions? Caring shows up whenever I hear organizations proudly declare their commitment to Caring Science while remaining conspicuously silent in the face of human rights violations. Hiding behind policies that favor profit and safety over human lives. The language is familiar, polished, and comforting. Their silence is not. It took a nurse loosing his life for some nurses to become outraged, while others remained silent and safe.

I keep asking myself whether I am misunderstanding something fundamental, whether Caring Science was ever meant to extend beyond the walls of institutions or the safety of mission statements. But the more I reflect, the clearer it becomes that this tension is not an internal conflict. It is an ethical one.

Caring Science, as as I understand it, is not merely about kindness, empathy, or therapeutic presence. It is a moral framework rooted in human dignity and an ethical obligation to reduce suffering. It speaks to shared humanity, to relational accountability, and to the sacredness of life itself. There is nothing neutral about it. There is nothing passive about it.

And yet, in practice, I see caring confined by borders. Not geographic borders alone, but institutional ones. Caring is welcomed when it fits neatly into strategic plans, accreditation language, and professional branding. It is celebrated when it soothes, inspires, and affirms. But when caring demands moral courage, public witness, or discomfort, it suddenly becomes “outside the scope.”

Organizations speak fluently about wellness, equity, trauma-informed care, and social determinants of health. They acknowledge suffering when it can be operationalized, measured, reimbursed, and safely discussed. But when suffering is tied to power, violence, displacement, or systemic dehumanization, silence takes over. Neutrality is reframed as professionalism. Risk avoidance is recast as ethical restraint.

What emerges is a version of caring that is conditional. Conditional caring is careful about where it looks. It chooses which lives are visible and which are inconvenient. It draws invisible lines around whose pain is nameable and whose must remain unspoken. Over time, caring becomes less of a moral stance and more of an aesthetic. Something that sounds good, feels good, and offends no one.

But Caring was never meant to be comfortable. Human rights violations are not abstract political debates. They are lived experiences of trauma, loss, moral injury, and erasure. To remain silent about them while invoking a caring framework is not neutrality. It is participation in the systems that allow harm to continue unchallenged.

I often hear the phrase “staying in our lane,” as though ethics have jurisdictional limits. As though caring can be segmented into what is institutionally safe versus what is morally necessary. Yet Caring rejects narrow lanes altogether. It insists that caring consciousness transcends roles, borders, and bureaucratic boundaries. It calls for coherence between values and action.

What I am grappling with is not whether organizations are allowed to protect themselves. It is whether they can do so while still claiming a moral philosophy that demands advocacy, witness, and ethical presence. When silence becomes the default response to visible suffering, caring is no longer expansive. It is contained.

Perhaps the reconciliation I was searching for was never meant to be found. Perhaps the tension itself is the point.

I am beginning to understand that organizations may use Caring Science, but individuals must embody it. Embodiment is not always polished. It is often uneasy, unresolved, and costly. It requires seeing what others avoid, naming what makes rooms uncomfortable, and refusing to accept silence as an ethical position.

My struggle, then perhaps, is not a failure to understand Caring Science. It is a refusal to accept a version of it that stops at borders.

Caring without courage is sentiment and without justice is performance. Caring that does not speak when humanity is violated is not caring at all.

And perhaps this unease is not something to reconcile!