There is a kind of empathy that costs far too little. It costs a like, a comment, a share, and perhaps a nice photograph on social media. It is empathy that looks powerful in front of a camera, but disappears the moment the camera is switched off. Perhaps one of the clearest examples is the way we sometimes treat people who are homeless.

We see someone sleeping on the street, take a photograph, post it on social media and write a few words about how compassionate and caring we are. For a few hours, we feel like heroes. But what happens afterwards? What happens to the person whose image we used to strengthen our own public image?

That is the question we need to start asking ourselves.

A homeless person is not content. They are not an opportunity to gain likes. They are not a backdrop for a photograph that shows everyone how generous we are. They are a human being. They have a name, a story, fears, memories, dignity and a right to their privacy.

Sometimes, with the intention of helping, we may actually be causing them greater harm.

When we publish a photograph of a vulnerable person without their consent, we expose them. Perhaps they have a family who does not know where they are. Perhaps they have personal, legal or social difficulties that we know nothing about. Perhaps tomorrow they will look for a job and someone will recognise them from a photograph we published supposedly to "help" them. What was, for us, a post that lasted a day can become a problem that follows them for years.

And there is something even deeper: we may have taken away from them the one thing they should never have to ask anyone to give them - their dignity.

If we genuinely want to help, we do not need to be the ones who are seen.

Real help often happens quietly. It is making a phone call to a service that can intervene. It is speaking to someone who is professionally trained to help. It is offering food with respect. It is sitting beside someone and listening without feeling the need to record the moment. It is asking, "What do you need?" instead of assuming that we know what is best for them.

Because there is a huge difference between helping someone and showing everyone that we are helping them.

Perhaps it is time we asked ourselves why we sometimes need a camera in order to do good.

Why does an act of charity have to be documented? Why does a vulnerable person have to give us their face so that we can receive applause? Why must their suffering become our content?

In Malta, homelessness is not some distant reality. It is among us. And when we hear figures suggesting that there may be close to a thousand people experiencing homelessness, we cannot continue walking past them as though nothing is happening. But neither can we start seeing every person on the street as an opportunity for a Facebook post.

Because behind every face there is a story we may know nothing about.

And sometimes, the most dangerous thing is not that we fail to recognise the problem. It is that we recognise it only when it suits us. When it is trending. When it can generate reactions. When we can take a photograph and write an emotional caption.

The truth is that loneliness, poverty and homelessness do not disappear because we made a post.

Nor do they disappear because we gave someone a sandwich in front of a camera.

The person is still on the street after we return to our own lives.

That is why we need a new culture of helping. One that places the human being before the post, dignity before the like, and responsibility before applause.

If we want to be human, let us learn to help without causing harm. Let us learn that not every act of help needs to be seen. And perhaps, ironically, the most genuine act of generosity is the one nobody sees.

Because when help is genuine, it does not need an audience.

And if we truly want to understand empathy, perhaps we should begin with one simple question:

If I were in that person's place, would I want my photograph shared with the whole of Malta?

If the answer is no, then we already know what we should do.

Put down the camera.

And open your heart.

Ivan Bartolo is Shadow Minister for Social Policy, Family and Social Housing