A Must Read! When Empathy Dies:

How Language, Power, and Religion Are Fueling America’s Moral Collapse from Within

Written by Jerry Elman, May 31, 2025

Donald Trump is president again.

His return to the White House is not some shocking plot twist. It’s the logical conclusion of a nation that has steadily abandoned empathy, civility, and truth. Trump didn’t cause the collapse—he revealed it, channeled it, and now leads it. His second term is a monument to the normalization of cruelty in American life.

What makes Trump different is that he knows exactly what he’s doing. His words are not gaffes. His outbursts are not accidental. He is deliberate. He has a vision—though it’s not one written in law or policy, but in culture: a nation fueled by jealousy, blame, hate, and selfishness. A nation where the powerful excuse corruption as success, where truth is transactional, and where empathy is weakness. A nation driven not by shared purpose, but by spectacle and grievance. And above all, a nation that the rest of the world no longer trusts—because it can’t even trust itself.

But here’s the deeper truth: Trump didn’t invent this America—he recognized it. When he descended that golden escalator in 2015, he wasn’t just launching a campaign; he was holding up a mirror. He saw what others missed. He understood the American psyche—not the one described in civics class, but the one shaped by resentment, celebrity worship, and zero-sum thinking. He read the room better than anyone in either party. And as a reality TV genius, he knew exactly what to give them: ratings over relationships, fame over substance, conflict over compromise.

He didn’t corrupt the culture—he cashed in on it. And more than that, he legitimized it. He made cruelty respectable, made grievance a brand, and turned entertainment into ideology. Trump knows he can do whatever he wants—as long as he performs it with vengeance, victimhood, and spectacle. That’s the deal he struck with America. And the country keeps showing up for the next episode.

In this new America, goodness is ridiculed. Selflessness is mocked. Working for the common good is seen as naïve—something for suckers and losers. The very idea that we might owe something to one another has become almost laughable. The backbone of the nation—everyday Americans who once believed in duty, decency, and sacrifice—has been pushed into the shadows of history.

We used to call ourselves “the land of opportunity.” But today, we are better described as the land of “take all you can get.” Our new national ethos is not unity or community—but conquest. And those who care, those who give, those who serve—they are left behind in a country that rewards cruelty and punishes compassion.

We are not witnessing a temporary political swing. We are living through the moral erosion of a nation from the inside out. Empires, when they fall, don’t just lose wars. They lose their soul first. And language—how we speak to and about each other—is the first thing to rot.

Language as the First Casualty

America now speaks in a tongue sharpened for battle. Words once considered too shameful to utter in public are no longer whispered in the shadows—they’re shouted from rallies, blasted on podcasts, and monetized across social media.

Under Trump’s second term, the gloves are off. Slurs once banished from public discourse—racial, religious, homophobic, misogynistic, and ableist—have returned with force. Terms like “retard,” “nigger,” “faggot,” “kike,” “spic,” “chink,” “towelhead,” “wetback,” “bitch,” “cunt,” “groomer,” and “illegal” are wielded not just to offend, but to dehumanize—and to rally crowds eager to hear them.

We’ve seen this pattern before. In every society preparing to commit unthinkable things, language is the first weapon drawn. From Nazi Germany to Rwanda, the process always begins the same way: people are redefined as threats, as parasites, as monsters—until violence feels like justice. That’s where America stands now.

But just as insidious are the coded slurs and weaponized labels: calling immigrants “invaders,” political opponents “traitors,” Black men “thugs,” Muslims “terrorists,” asylum seekers “rapists,” and civil servants “deep state operatives.” Even the term “alien”—once largely phased out for its dehumanizing tone—has returned as the official label for non-citizens, resurrected to reinforce the idea that these people don’t belong here and never will.

These words are meant to strip people of their humanity and assign them danger—so that cruelty feels justified. They’re used to incite, to divide, and to dominate. In MAGA culture, compassion is weakness, cruelty is strategy, and dehumanization is policy.

These aren’t just words. They’re weaapons. And they’re the oldest signs of a nation preparing to do something unthinkable and once viewed as “could never happen here.”

And it’s already begun. Mass deportations are underway. Protesters are surveilled. Journalists are targeted. Books are banned. People are being rounded up, detained, and cast out—not because of what they’ve done, but because of who they are.

Colleges are vilified as enemy breeding grounds. Businesses are boycotted for supporting diversity or speaking out. Political opponents are labeled traitors and threatened with prosecution or violence. Convicted felons from January 6th have been pardoned and paraded as patriots.

This isn’t a warning anymore. It’s a reckoning. The machinery of state violence is no longer theoretical—it’s operational. The tactics are being tested. And a nation that once claimed moral leadership now exports only fear, rage, and spectacle.

Steve Bannon regularly talks about “purging the system” and “retribution.” Conservative pundits like Matt Walsh and Tucker Carlson now flirt openly with white nationalist talking points. Even GOP lawmakers in Congress echo Trump’s language—calling political opponents “enemies,” immigrants “invaders,” and civil servants part of a “deep state.”

Just yesterday, Senator Joni Ernst justified cutting Medicaid by declaring, “We’re all going to die”—a grotesque rationale for stripping healthcare from the most vulnerable. In the same breath, she implied that many poor and elderly Americans are defrauding the system by being on Medicare. Social Security is next. Those who need help the most are now painted as leeches, freeloaders, and criminals—not to fix the system, but to justify dismantling it.

That same day, Donald Trump was asked whether he felt sympathy for Joe Biden following the announcement of Biden’s stage 4 prostate cancer diagnosis. Trump shrugged off the moment, saying:

“If you feel sorry for him, don’t feel so sorry—because he’s vicious.”
He went on to claim Biden had “hurt a lot of people” and that he didn’t feel sorry for him at all.

This wasn’t just personal bitterness—it was a national signal. The cruelty wasn’t hidden. It was on display, deliberate. Mocking the sick. Dismissing the suffering. Justifying the abandonment of the vulnerable. These aren’t gaffes or outbursts. They’re the message. They’re code. They’re permission for everyone else to stop caring too.

And the people cheer.

Trump himself no longer pretends to unite. He speaks to his base in terms of conquest, revenge, and dominance. Protesters are “scum.” Journalists are “the enemy of the people.” LGBTQ+ Americans are “destroying the country.” Black activists are “thugs.” Arabs, and immigrants? Barely human. “Shithole countries,” as he once said—and never walked back.

This isn’t locker-room talk. It’s statecraft now.

And while the culture mocks the sick and demonizes the poor, government policy does the same with cold precision. Over the last four decades, America has witnessed the largest wealth transfer in modern history—not from the rich to the struggling, but from the working and middle classes to the top 1%. Billionaires added trillions to their net worth. Corporations bought back their own stock instead of raising wages. Hedge funds bought housing, while families were evicted.

The government didn’t just watch—it engineered it. This didn’t start with Trump. It began with Reagan. Reaganomics—the blueprint of tax cuts for the rich, corporate deregulation, union-busting, and trickle-down mythology—set the foundation. It was sold as economic freedom. In reality, it was the beginning of systemic financial cruelty, where the rich were rewarded, and everyone else was told to wait patiently for crumbs that never came.

Decades later, the results are in. Tax codes were rewritten to reward wealth, not work. Trade agreements and tax incentives deliberately encouraged corporations to ship jobs overseas, hollowing out entire towns and communities. The factories closed, the stores shuttered, the families uprooted—not because business failed, but because it was more profitable to eliminate American jobs, pocket the difference, and then either reward shareholders or buy back stock to inflate executive bonuses and share prices.

Today, the top 1% of Americans control over 30% of the nation’s total wealth, while the bottom 50% hold just 2.5%. That isn’t a market failure—it’s a policy design. What once was a system built around productivity, wages, and the supply and demand of goods and services has become a system focused almost entirely on the transfer of money—through tax loopholes, asset bubbles, and legalized Wall Street control.

The economy no longer serves people. It serves portfolios. And empathy, even in economics, is now considered weakness. Those who fall behind are seen not as casualties of a rigged system, but as failures undeserving of help.

This is what financial cruelty looks like. It’s not just about money. It’s about stripping people of dignity and hope—and then telling them to applaud their own betrayal.

The Left’s Empathy Test

But the death of empathy is not confined to the right. On the far left, compassion has been consumed by moral absolutism. Activism has turned into inquisitions. People are judged not by intentions or growth, but by whether they use the right vocabulary in real time.

Online, an accusation is often as good as a conviction. Misstep, and you’re exiled. Question the orthodoxy, and you’re branded a bigot—even if you’re asking in good faith.

Progressive spaces that once preached inclusion now often practice exclusion. Those deemed not sufficiently “woke” are discarded, not educated. There is little patience for difference, no room for learning, and even less for forgiveness.

In both camps—MAGA rage and progressive rigidity—empathy has become conditional. You are either with us or you are the problem.

The Evangelical Embrace of Hate

Evangelical America has twisted religious freedom into a license to hate. The same pulpits that once preached love, grace, and humility now thunder with sermons about conquest, judgment, and purging the “godless.”

What began as a faith is now a movement of power. Religious freedom is redefined to mean the right to discriminate, the right to demonize others in the name of God, the right to say, “My religion allows me to treat you as subhuman.”

Ministers like Greg Locke scream about “witches” in their congregations. Franklin Graham has called Islam “evil and wicked” and said Jews who don’t accept Christ are “doomed.” Robert Jeffress, one of Trump’s most loyal spiritual advisors, once said Jews, Muslims, Mormons, and Catholics are all going to hell. The Pope himself has been called a “globalist puppet” and “the Anti-Christ” by pastors whose churches now double as political campaign hubs.

And it doesn’t stop at words. These same figures glorify violence—or at least, make peace with it. On January 6, 2021, Jesus banners waved over mobs that crushed police and stormed the Capitol. “Righteous violence” is preached from pulpits. “Second Amendment solutions” are cheered in the pews.

The cross has been weaponized. Not for mercy, but for vengeance.

Mainstreaming Hate from the Top Down

This isn’t just fringe anymore. Tech billionaires, presidential candidates, and cultural influencers now echo slurs and conspiracy theories with impunity. Elon Musk, owner of X (formerly Twitter), publicly endorsed a post accusing Jews of orchestrating “dialectical hatred against whites.” His response?

“You have said the actual truth.”

With that one line, the world’s richest man put his stamp of approval on an antisemitic lie straight out of white nationalist propaganda. Musk didn’t walk it back. Instead, the platform he owns has become a haven for hate speech—restoring banned accounts, promoting QAnon-adjacent content, and monetizing outrage.

And Musk has made his stance on compassion just as clear. In a leaked Tesla email, he reportedly told employees:

“Empathy is not a priority.”

Not only is hate normalized—it’s now efficient. It’s scalable. Empathy is dismissed as a distraction, even a weakness, by the very people shaping our online discourse, AI models, hiring systems, and speech platforms. When men with this much power treat dehumanization as truth and empathy as irrelevant, the cultural collapse becomes systemic.

They aren’t just normalizing cruelty—they’re engineering it. And the silence from those who know better is deafening.

From Criminals to Patriots: The Inversion of Morality

Nowhere is this rot clearer than in the way January 6th rioters have been reframed. In Trump’s second term, those convicted for attacking the Capitol—men and women who assaulted police officers, smashed windows, and called for the execution of elected officials—are not only being pardoned. They are being celebrated.

Trump has called them “hostages.” His allies call them “patriots.” Rallies now open with tributes to January 6th defendants. Fundraisers are held for their families. Commemorative coins and apparel honor them. Some are running for office. Others are getting book deals.

Meanwhile, the people they beat, maimed, and nearly killed—Capitol Police officers and staffers—are mocked as “crisis actors” or “government pawns.” The ones who died? Forgotten. The ones who survived? Labeled traitors for testifying to the truth.

This moral inversion is staggering: The criminals are heroes. The defenders of democracy are enemies. Violence is patriotism. Law is tyranny. And empathy? Nowhere to be found.

Enemies of the People: How Government Workers Became Villains

Once viewed as public servants, government employees are now regularly treated as enemies. In today’s America, being a civil servant—especially in election offices, public health, education, or the judiciary—means being targeted with threats, slander, and sometimes violence. They’re called “deep state rats,” “traitors,” “tyrants,” and “pedo groomers” by politicians and media figures with massive platforms. Even school librarians and IRS clerks are branded as agents of some vast conspiracy.

Election workers have faced death threats for simply counting ballots. Teachers have been doxxed and fired for using inclusive language or teaching history accurately. Public health officials were harassed out of their jobs for issuing COVID guidelines. Judges and prosecutors are stalked online and offline for doing their jobs—especially if their work touches on Trump, January 6th, or any right-wing cause.

These aren’t isolated incidents. They’re symptoms of a movement that has openly declared war on the very concept of impartial governance.

Celebrating Violence in God’s Name

It’s not just abstract hate—it’s real, physical, dangerous.

Trump himself said he would “pay the legal fees” of anyone who beat up a protester at one of his rallies. That kind of behavior is now celebrated. When Kyle Rittenhouse was acquitted for killing two people with an AR-15, far-right media turned him into a hero. Congress members invited him to Washington. Evangelical leaders prayed over him.

Political figures joke about “executing traitors.” Militias train in the woods with Bible verses on their rifles. Violent threats against judges, teachers, librarians, and election workers have skyrocketed—and the response is often: “Good.”

We’ve become a country where threats are jokes, jokes are slogans, and slogans are orders.

A Nation Coming Apart

What makes America exceptional is not its power. It’s supposed to be its promise: that dignity belongs to everyone. That the country is not built for the strong to trample the weak, but to protect the weak from the strong.

That idea is dying. You can hear it in the applause when protestors are punched. In the silence when slurs go unchecked. In the glee of cancel culture. In the chants of “lock them up” and “go back where you came from.”

You can hear it in the cruelty we no longer flinch at—and sometimes find funny.

Empathy isn’t a political position. It’s a human one. And when a nation loses its capacity for empathy, it becomes a nation that cannot mourn its dead, cannot shelter its poor, cannot heal its wounds. It becomes a place where humiliation replaces honor, and power replaces principle.

History’s Warnings—Ignored Again

History does not forgive nations that forget their humanity.

The Roman Empire fell not when it lost a war, but when it lost its unity and its virtue. The German republic collapsed into fascism not with tanks, but with propaganda—when its people were taught to see fellow citizens as rats, degenerates, parasites. When slurs became slogans.

In Rwanda, radio hosts called their neighbors “cockroaches” before machetes ever swung.

In every case, the first step toward atrocity is linguistic. When you strip someone’s humanity with a word, what follows is just logistics.

Today in America, we are back to speaking in those ancient, brutal tongues. And we have a president who relishes it.

Jimmy Carter Was Right

We didn’t want to hear it when President Jimmy Carter spoke in 1979 about America’s “crisis of confidence.” He said the danger was not external—it was in our soul. He was ridiculed for sounding too bleak, too introspective, too real.

But he was right. And now it may be too late.

We are a nation armed to the teeth and emotionally bankrupt. We still have nuclear missiles, but no shared morality. We have laws, but no shared trust. We have freedom of speech, but no sense of responsibility for what we say.

When Meme Activism Becomes Cowardice

What’s most tragic isn’t just that empathy is dead—but that when people do try to revive it, they do so cowardly.

A Facebook meme here. A quote card there. An Instagram story with a rainbow overlay. Expressions of compassion carefully crafted for their own echo chambers—never for real risk, never for real confrontation. Just enough to feel righteous, but never enough to make waves.

No one is brave when their entire audience already agrees. Few take public stances that cost them something. Fewer still put their names, their reputations, or their safety on the line to speak up for what’s right.

Real courage is not a meme. It’s standing up in the face of cruelty, not whispering “be kind” from behind a wall of likes. It’s risking something. But too many have decided it’s better to keep their head down, post in private groups, or hide behind anonymous handles than say, “This is wrong,” in public, with a face and a name.

Suburban moms post MLK quotes on Facebook, then vote for candidates who ban books about racism. Self-proclaimed moderates quietly express concern but won’t risk a friendship or job to confront hate out loud. Brave men and women once marched across bridges. Now, they post on threads they know no one will challenge.

Empathy needs defenders. Not spectators.

What We’ve Become, and What’s Next

Empathy can’t be legislated, but it can be chosen. It must be spoken—not hinted at. It must be risked—not retweeted or posted via Facebook memes.

We are a country where slurs are policy, where cruelty wins elections, and where silence is safe. But that silence is complicity. Trump didn’t kill empathy. We did. By cheering, by laughing, by staying silent. By confusing safety with courage and memes with morality.

Every empire thinks it’s immune. But the truth is simple:

No nation survives the death of its soul.