When Bureaucracy Meets Empathy

I went with him to renew his passport. I wanted to see how the officials interacted with people, based on my own past experiences. When we walked into the building, the familiar setting immediately took over. He had come prepared: new photos, multiple copies of all required documents, everything in order as instructed.

When his turn came, he handed over his papers to the woman at the counter, separated by thick glass. His tone was more polite than usual, as it often is when you’re standing across thick glass from an official. But there was a problem: a page had a typo. We were given two choices: walk 30 minutes to a copy shop to print the document again, or wait at least an hour and a half for the embassy to print out three A4 size pages.

I felt a sense of frustration rise in me, not because I was surprised, but because it brought back memories of my early days here, struggling with paperwork, finding my way around, or visiting a doctor. Every interaction felt like a reminder that, as a person, I should be treated with kindness and not have to jump through hoops to get things done.

I remember being amazed at seeing accommodations for wheelchair users, like ramps and adjusted gutters. I also recall a lesson from our cultural anthropology professor about a project aimed at making infrastructure more accessible for blind people. It moved me. There was also the doctor who personally opened the door for me and led me into her office, cutting out the middleman. She treated me with respect and made sure I wasn’t kept waiting or treated dismissively.

These small acts of consideration matter.

A student of mine once said he liked living here because, “I don’t have to be stressed about getting things done.” That struck a chord with me.

Here, people take the time to explain procedures clearly and treat you with respect. Doctors make sure you know what’s happening and why. They’ll say things like, “I’m about to give you an injection, and it might sting a little. I’m sorry about that.” They communicate, not as superiors, but as equals.

These small things make a big difference.

We weren’t the only ones. A visibly pregnant woman and her partner were also missing two documents. Their options? A 30-minute walk through the heat to a copy shop, or a 90-minute wait while the embassy printed the papers. They chose to wait, occupying two hard chairs in silence, with nowhere to rest. Technically, the rules were followed. But was this really service?

In the European Union, we often speak of human dignity, accessibility, transparency, and inclusion. These shouldn’t be buzzwords reserved for policy speeches, they should be the standard in every government office, clinic, and public service counter.

If we want to build institutions people trust, we can’t treat empathy as optional. Kindness isn’t just nice, it makes systems work for people.

You can also read the article here:
👉 When Bureaucracy Meets Empathy

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