I don't know what happened after the National Geographic camera turned off, but this is nonetheless a fascinating vignette illustrating empathy (I dare you to watch this and to conclude otherwise).
We often discussed empathy at this website, for instance here. And here. Most of the time, we discuss the importance of empathy-based morality without invoking any supernatural beings, beliefs, or commandments. This is not to claim that religion is always irrelevant to such discussions. For the past day, I have repeatedly thought about Rush Limbaugh's recent invocation of Jesus. He claimed that Jesus would prefer that we lower the tax rates for rich people and that we dismantle the federal social safety net for those who are not rich. This morning, coming out of a courthouse a poor-looking man smiled and said, "I hope you're having a good day." I thanked him and walked on, struck that an upbeat man of such modest means, a man I didn't know, would take time to greet me. That reminded me of a recurring thought I have: If I were God, I would visit earth dressed as a poor person, and I would mingle with well-to-do people to see how they treated me. If I were God and I did this, I would repeatedly be reminded that rich people avoided me. [More . . . ]
If you've lived in or spent any significant time in another country, you might have had to answer questions about why your country was doing certain things on the world stage. And if you took time to think of who was asking and how things appeared from their perspectives, your answer might be different than if you spent your life wearing parochial blinders. I was in Korea when we invaded Afghanistan and Iraq. I couldn't answer the questions like, "Why is the U.S. doing that?" or the more common one, "Why are Bush and Cheney doing that?" And these from a country that enjoys (not universally) a U.S. presence and strong relationship with the U.S. I couldn't answer not just because I was in the military for part of the time I was there, but also that I tried to understand how things looked from outside the U.S. I was, after all, a guest in their country. Sam Richards, in this TED Talk titled "A Radical Experiment in Empathy" illustrates a message that I think that every single American needs to hear, whether xenophobic or not. I've lived all over the U.S. and I am continually saddened, if no longer surprised at how Americans view the world. "Speak English!" "But you're in our country." "Speak English anyway." I am also saddened that I know many people that will not understand this video, which is all the more disappointing because despite my other challenges regarding the nature of humans though their arts, I do. The message is simple: Step out of your tiny world and understand the larger world differently. It should open some eyes. I really hope it does.
The 80/20 Rule seems to apply to many areas of life, including the return for the investment one gets from reading. 80% of the excellent ideas I read seem to result from 20% of the authors I read. The trick, then, is to choose carefully when picking up a book. Make sure that the author is a high-quality thinker/writer, and you'll end up getting a mind expanding education merely by following a few dozen authors. That is my experience, anyway.
For me, one of those high-quality authors is primatologist Frans de Waal. I have just finished De Waal's most recent book, The Age of Empathy: Nature's Lessons for a Kinder Society (2009) (here is my earlier post on this same book). De Waal makes so many compelling points in his book that I'm tempted to simply throw up my hands and urge everyone to go read this book. Truly, there is a terrific new idea or two every few pages, most of which have application to the increasingly strained modern human condition. 
Starting around page 206, De Waal makes a strong case for the emotional continuity between all animals (and especially other primates) and human animals. Yet, so many people or uncomfortable with the existence of this continuity. They would much rather believe that humans are not animals, and that humans somehow stand outside of nature, whereas all the other animals are part of nature. I have written before about the importance of recognizing that humans don't stand outside of nature, but that we are full-fledged animals.
De Waal believes that this reluctance to talk about our animal emotions is caused by certain types of religious, "particularly religions that arose in isolation from animals that look like us." He explains:
With monkeys and apes around every corner, no rain forest culture has ever produced a religion that places humans outside of nature. Similarly, in the East--surrounded by native primates in India, China, and Japan--religions don't draw a sharp line between humans and other animals. Reincarnation occurs in many shapes and forms: a man may become a fish and a fish may become God. Monkey gods, such as Hanuman, are common. Only the Judeo-Christian religions place humans on a pedestal, making them the only species with a soul. It's not hard to see how desert nomads might have arrived at this view. Without animals to hold up a mirror to them, the notion that were alone came naturally to them. They saw themselves as created in God's image and as the only intelligent life on earth. Even today we're so convinced of this that we search for other of such life by training powerful telescopes on distant galaxies.De Waal describes how shocked Westerners were when chimpanzees and monkeys started arriving at Western zoos in the 1830s. He points out that this exposure to other primates occurred relatively recently for many Westerners, "long after Western religion had spread its creed of human exceptionalism to all corners of knowledge." De Waal's idea is as powerful as it is elegant. It makes good sense too. People who are exposed to a variety of animals with various gradations of "humanness" would certainly be more comfortable with the idea of biological continuity, with his Darwinian idea that human animals are cousins with every other living thing on the planet. De Waal clarifies that we Westerners are actually inconsistent with regard to our resistance to this idea that we are continuous with all other life forms. We stack the deck:
When it comes to characteristics that we don't like about ourselves, continuity is rarely an issue. As soon as people kill, abandon, rape, or otherwise mistreat one another, we are quick to blame it on our genes. Warfare and aggression are widely recognized as biological traits, and no one thinks twice about pointing at ants or chimps for parallels. It's only with regard to noble characteristics that continuity is an issue and empathy is a case in point.De Waal points out that many well-accomplished scientists have worked feverishly to seek "specialness" in humans. They focus their efforts on trying to find something to distinguish humans from the "animals." As De Waal suggests, they are likely to "discover" that these differences are most pronounced in the noble traits. It's time to recognize the one-sidedness of these efforts, however.
My main point, however, is not whether the proposed distinctions are real or imagined, but why all of them need to be in our favor. Aren't humans at least equally special with respect to torture, genocide, deception, exploitation, indoctrination, and environmental destruction? Why does every list of human distinctiveness need to have the flavor of a feel-good note?
Jeremy Rifkin has a few things to say at Huffpo. First, the problem:
In a nation that has come to think of human nature as competitive, even predatory, self serving, acquisitive and utilitarian, is it any wonder that those very values have led to a "winner take all" syndrome in the marketplace in which the rich get richer while everyone else becomes marginalized, and the well-being of the larger community, including the biosphere, becomes eroded?And then the hope:
If we listen very closely, we can hear the whisper of a new dream in the making, one based on what youth around the world are beginning to call "quality of life". In this new world, the American Dream seems almost provincial, even quaint, and entirely unsuited for a generation that is beginning to extend its empathic sensibility beyond national identities, to include the whole of humanity and the entirety of the planet as their extended community. If the American Dream served as the gold standard for the era of national markets and nation-state governments, the dream of "quality of life" becomes the standard for the emerging biosphere era. . . The empathic civilization looms on the horizon.