November has long been a season of gratitude, a time to give thanks for the people and blessings in our lives. But perhaps this year, amid so much bitterness and conflict in our public arena, we might widen our focus to another, quieter virtue that deserves attention: kindness.

Kindness doesn’t often make headlines. It doesn’t trend on social media or find its way into political speeches. Yet, in a world that feels increasingly harsh, kindness may be the most radical act of all. As the American-British author Henry James famously wrote, “Three things in human life are important: The first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind.”

Kindness has an important place in this season of caring. November happens to be National Family Caregivers Month and Alzheimer’s Awareness Month—occasions that remind us of the millions of quiet acts of kindness happening every day across America. Family caregivers are often unsung heroes, unpaid and unseen, tending to loved ones with Alzheimer’s and other chronic illnesses, often at great personal cost. They embody what it means to be kind: to give, to serve, to show compassion—even when no one is watching.

Recently, I was reminded of the value of kindness from an unexpected source: Warren Buffet, the iconic CEO of Berkshire Hathaway, often considered America’s most successful investor. Earlier this month, the “Oracle of Omaha,” who is retiring at age 95, delivered his final Thanksgiving letter to Berkshire Hathaway shareholders: a long and winding message that was part memoir; part expression of gratitude to friends and family; part explanation of his plans of corporate succession; and part observation about aging and life. (“I’m happy to say I feel better about the second half of my life than the first.” My advice: Don’t beat yourself up over past mistakes – learn at least a little from them and move on. It is never too late to improve.”)

What particularly impressed me were some of Buffett’s final thoughts:

“Greatness does not come about through accumulating great amounts of money, great amounts of publicity or great power in government. When you help someone in any of thousands of ways, you help the world. Kindness is costless but also priceless.”

Indeed, writers, philosophers, and spiritual leaders across centuries have celebrated kindness as the essence of what makes us human. A few notable quotes: From Aesop, the ancient Greek storyteller: “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” And from the ever-sharp-witted Mark Twain: “Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

While many historic figures have touted the virtues of kindness, I first came to see its practice in the everyday people around me. My Mom and Dad were hardworking, moral people, the products of immigrant families who highly valued education and had great aspirations for their children. What they didn’t teach—they simply modeled it—was kindness. They were sometimes stern, but always steadfast in their caring and kindness, not just toward their own children, but toward other people’s children—and pretty much everyone I knew. Sure, they had some strong opinions and could get frustrated and angry, but I never saw them being mean-spirited or belittling. There was no expected quid pro quo: that’s just the way they were.

I felt that kindness from another important individual during my high school years—my newspaper advisor Ron Barry. Ron was an amazing teacher, with unprepossessing wisdom, thoughtful, warm and patient, even when faced with a constant stream of adolescent crises, real or imagined.  Students were magnetically drawn to him, even as he rose to become vice principal, ostensibly charged with being a disciplinarian. All of us could see that underneath his administrative duties there was great compassion and kindness toward his students.

Recently, I’ve had the opportunity to learn more about the science of kindness from a variety of experts. Research in psychology and neuroscience has shown that acts of kindness boost serotonin and dopamine, the brain’s feel-good chemicals. They lower blood pressure, reduce stress, and even enhance longevity. In one study from the University of British Columbia, people who performed acts of kindness over a six-week period reported significantly higher levels of happiness and well-being.

Dr. Stephen Post, a perennial guest on my 45 Forward podcast, has been involved in much research examining the life-enhancing benefits of caring, kindness, and compassion. Dr. Post, the director of the Center for Medical Humanities, Compassionate Care, and Bioethics at Stony Brook University’s School of Medicine, is the author of several books, including Why Good Things Happen to Good People, where he presents research showing that when we give of ourselves, everything from life-satisfaction to self-realization and physical health is significantly affected. In another book, Dignity for Deeply Forgetful People, Dr. Post describes his lifelong look into ways we need to provide “ethical care” for people with Alzheimer’s disease, stressing the importance of compassion and dignity for both caregivers and their “deeply forgetful” loved ones.

In caring for another person—especially someone with Alzheimer’s--caregivers practice the purest form of kindness. It is not transactional or performative; it is rooted in love and empathy. In that sense, caregiving is not just a private act of compassion; it’s a public lesson in humanity. If we as a nation could bring that same level of patience, empathy, and respect into our public life, we might reaffirm what connects us, rather than what divides us.

Unfortunately, that kind of kindness seems in short supply today. We live in a time when meanness has become normalized, even celebrated. Political leaders score points by mocking their opponents. Commentators thrive on outrage. Social media algorithms reward the snarkiest comment or the harshest takedown. We forget that behind every opposing viewpoint is a person—with fears, hopes, and stories just as complex as our own. Democracy depends on a basic premise: that we can disagree without hatred, that we can argue without annihilating one another.

Our leaders, especially those at the highest levels, have a responsibility to model this. Kindness is not weakness. It is strength under control. It takes courage to listen when you’d rather shout, to seek understanding rather than revenge. As the Dalai Lama, reminds us, “Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.” So, while we tend to think of kindness as a personal trait, it also has a profoundly public dimension. It’s the connective tissue of community life—the small gestures and mutual respect that allow societies to function. We recognize its presence through organizations like the Random Acts of Kindness Foundation (www.randomactsofkindness.org),  whose mission is to “make kindness the norm” by inspiring and facilitating kindness through free resources , focusing on schools, workplaces and communities.

What our public life needs now are policies and leadership grounded not in dominance or ideology, but in compassion. When we create policies that ease the burden on caregivers, for instance— such as paid leave, respite care, dementia-friendly communities—we are institutionalizing kindness at scale.

As we approach Thanksgiving, we’ll hear plenty about gratitude—and rightly so. But kindness takes gratitude one step further: it transforms feeling into action. Gratitude looks inward; kindness reaches outward. It’s the bridge between appreciation and contribution. Whether we are caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s, gathering with family around the Thanksgiving table, or simply navigating the complexities of daily life—let’s remember that kindness is not the soft option. It is the only option that sustains our humanity.

—Ron Roel