The Loss of Empathy and Compassion in Our Modern American Society
I can’t help but feel as though I’ve awoken in an old Star Trek (TOS) episode. Those of you over 50 may recall the one I’m referring to: “Mirror, Mirror.” It’s a world of parallel universes where Kirk finds himself trapped in a version of the Federation that has become an evil empire—good is bad, and famously, Spock sports a goatee to help you distinguish the “evil” universe.
My conundrum is this: unlike Kirk, I have no Spock who remains “logical” in both universes to help me find my way back. Nor have I found friends suddenly sprouting goatees. Yet, I can pinpoint the day this shift happened—January 20th, 2025. I knew Trump had won the election, and I had deep concerns about his second term. Still, the actions he took from Day 1 in office were shocking. Executive Orders began pouring out like royal decrees, delivered with all the pomp and circumstance of a king’s proclamation.
Politicians I thought I knew began behaving erratically, endorsing policies diametrically opposed to their pre-Trump positions (I’m looking at you Rubio). But the true proof that I had crossed into another universe came from my friends, family, and co-workers. These were people I considered rational and intelligent, yet they embraced Trump’s new madness and dismissed reason entirely. Day after day, absurdity upon absurdity piled up—lies to set the stage for the next scandalous executive order—and they accepted it all without question. It was then I realized: I’m not in Kansas anymore.
“Strange New Worlds”
Over the past two months, I’ve watched people I care for and respect defend the indefensible. Bold-faced lies are accepted at face value, while facts—when offered—are ignored. Positions on United States foreign policy and world leadership have pivoted with the grace of a ballerina, trading 80 years of progress for one man’s ego. Our allies have been turned upon, accused of exploiting us militarily and economically. The long-term benefits of free trade have been abandoned. Trump lauding Tariffs, largely debunked trade policies once espoused by 19th-century politicians such as McKinley, the same policies that two decades later helped plunge us into the Great Depression.
But this transformation feels deeply personal. As a society, we’ve sold the soul of our nation for front-row seats to a modern-day Jerry Springer show, broadcast daily from the White House. And what is this soul, you ask? It’s the American spirit that strove to be #1—not by climbing over the bodies of those we’ve betrayed, but by leading with integrity.
This was the America that often led not because it was profitable, but because it was right. An America that had compassion for those suffering, regardless of their appearance or language. Psalms 145:14 says, “The Lord supports all who stumble, and restores all who are broken down.” Our nation used to strive to embody this sentiment, reaching out to help those impacted by natural disasters while also offering refuge to those fleeing man-made ones.
Our nation was built on the idea of immigration—not forcing immigrants into a rigid mold of some “ideal” American, but blending their diverse identities into a cultural stew enriched by each unique addition. Emma Lazarus’s poem, etched into the Statue of Liberty, epitomized this noble core:
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
These words symbolized the empathy and compassion at the heart of our nation—values that gave hope to people worldwide, promising freedom and the chance to escape oppression and tyranny. They promised that once here, all men will be recognized as equal, that you did not need to worry now when you spoke in public, the government could not silence you. They promised fairness and freedom that the majority of the world could only dream of. But now, those values feel like relics of a forgotten era. For we have slammed the door shut now on those who would try to come to our nation, legally or illegally. And we have turned our hearts against those already legally here, revoking legal status for over 500,000 refugees who came here with the help of our government, many fleeing from war torn areas such as Ukraine or from the Tyranny of Despots and Authoritarian governments such as Venezuela. Deportation now awaits them, but they are just a statistic in Vance’s ledger and a notch on the billy stick in ICE.
We have become the KLINGONS
I am an independent voter. Though I lean conservative and historically align with the Republicans, I have crossed party lines. I voted for Obama in his first term, drawn by his message of hope when my faith in Washington was fading. In the last election, I chose Harris—not because I saw her as an ideal candidate, but because I believed the Democratic Party needed strength to oppose what I perceived as a real threat to our democracy: Donald Trump.
When Trump was elected, I trusted that those who had supported him would hold him accountable if he steered the country too far down a dark path. Many weren’t devoted “Trumpets” but conservative Republicans looking to counterbalance the far-left’s push into areas they found extreme, such as policies on pronouns, transgender rights, and DEI initiatives. I could at least understand their reasoning.
However, from the very beginning, Trump’s actions alarmed me. His antagonism toward our allies in Europe and Southeast Asia was deeply troubling. I had believed his supporters would draw a line—shouting “Too far!”—and rally behind conservative leaders in the Senate to rein him in. Instead, they cheered. His appointees echoed his rhetoric about withdrawing from NATO, and Trump began blaming Ukraine for the war with Russia. To my disbelief, his base embraced these narratives, parroting Russian propaganda as if Ukraine owed us an apology.
When Trump and Vance publicly humiliated Zelensky in the Oval Office, I hoped this display of disrespect would spark a backlash among those with a backbone. Instead, his administration doubled down, treating Ukraine as if it were the aggressor rather than a nation under siege. This was no mere diplomatic misstep; it was an earthquake that fractured ties with allies we had cherished since World War II. Suddenly, Russia was recast as a partner in “peace talks,” while Ukraine, left unrepresented, became the scapegoat.
We weren’t just failing our allies; we were adopting the traits of regimes we had long opposed.
But the transformation wasn’t just in foreign policy—it was in the erosion of our core values. People I knew, once compassionate, now mocked Ukraine’s plight, condemning Zelensky as a dictator while excusing Putin’s aggression. They turned a blind eye to the suffering of Ukrainian civilians under relentless missile and drone strikes. And when Trump withheld critical aid, arms, and intelligence from Ukraine, they applauded. This withdrawal emboldened Russia, enabling coordinated attacks that pushed Ukrainian forces back and left civilians defenseless.
We became backstabbers, abandoning our allies to die while celebrating new relations with despots and murderers. The integrity of our nation eroded, not just in its leadership but in its people. Red hats waved, proclaiming Ukraine “got what they deserved,” as if bravery in defense of one’s homeland was a sin.
Trump’s focus soon shifted inward to domestic affairs. He pardoned violent supporters who had stormed the Capitol for him five years earlier, portraying them as patriots despite their crimes and violence against law enforcement. These pardons emboldened far-right hate groups, transforming them into his “brown shirts,” rewarding those who had committed violence in his name.
Then came the dismantling of the federal government. Tens of thousands of federal workers were abruptly fired under the guise of rooting out fraud, orchestrated by Trump’s “co-president,” Elon Musk. What should have been a precise surgical operation over months or years was turned into a spectacle, with Musk mockingly brandishing a chainsaw on stage symbolizing his efforts with DOGE. Entire Departments were marked for closure. And programs that benefited citizens like support for single mothers, coordinated food bank donations with excess food from distributors, and provided aid to foreign nations were gutted without thought. The lives of millions—both at home and abroad—are now set to be upended.
How did Trump justify these actions? By demonizing his fellow Americans. Federal workers, many of whom labor tirelessly for less pay than their private-sector counterparts, were derided as “bureaucrats” described as lazy, dishonest, and the cause of our massive debt. He sowed contempt for the vulnerable, dismissing empathy and compassion as weaknesses. Musk, ever the showman, declared empathy itself to be the fatal flaw in democracy.
And as the red hats cheered, the transformation became complete. What began as fear and frustration grew into hate and malice. We stopped seeing our fellow citizens as people, instead casting them as “unhumans.” Compassion was extinguished, and reason was lost.
A journey home
So where does that leave us, or me, in this universe I’ve painted? I’ve used hyperbole with Star Trek to make a point. But the reality is that we, Americans, have to speak up. We need to remind those who have fallen under the spell of Trump’s bluster and rantings, of who we have been, and who we still are at heart. It is not to late to turn back, my post ‘Return to the light’ was just such a call. But the stakes have increased even since that post. The judiciary is under attack and is threaten with dissolution if they continue to check Trump’s orders. People legally here are being detained by plain clothes ICE and put into unmarked cars for detention and deportation without hearing. Anyone with a visa who dares speak or write and idea that the administration deems ‘troublesome’ risks the same.
To change this we must as a nation rekindle trust towards our fellow man, and to see the good in people assuming the best until proven otherwise. It has to start with us and then together we can raise a voice that Washington can not ignore. Lady Liberty can still be a source of inspiration today, but this time for we as Americans turning back to our roots and rejecting the hatred and bigotry that is tearing us apart.
The Informed Citizen 