“The death of human empathy is one of the earliest and most telling signs of a culture about to fall into barbarism.”

— Hannah Arendt (1906-1975)

There is some conjecture on the internet — imagine that — as to whether Arendt actually said or wrote the sentence above, but it is often attributed to the 20th century historian and philosopher.

Arendt wrote extensively about the evil that men do. She fled Nazi occupation in Europe and arrived in the United States in May 1941. Twenty years later, she covered the trial of Nazi war criminal Adolf Eichmann for The New Yorker. Her notes and observations eventually became a book — Eichmann in Jerusalem: The Banality of Evil.

Arendt was struck by how ordinary Eichmann appeared — a small, slightly balding, middle-aged man in a suit and tie instead of his Nazi uniform — and the way the man who oversaw the deportation of millions of Jews to Nazi ghettos and death camps spoke of simply “following orders,” as if his boss had just asked him to produce a quarterly report or run payroll for the week.

Indeed, some monsters can clean up well after the law — or in this case Mossad — catches up with them and they go to trial. Eichmann was eventually convicted on all counts and executed.

Arendt, who died in 1975 at the age of 69, left behind many works, including the Eichmann book, but my focus today is the quote at the beginning of this column.

“The death of human empathy is one of the earliest and most telling signs of a culture about to fall into barbarism.”

I’d come across the line years ago, but its true implications were lost on that younger version of myself. But the words popped up in my Facebook feed recently and I couldn’t help thinking this is us right now. You need only read or watch the news on a typical day and — if you’re paying attention — you’ll understand we’re on the precipice of becoming exactly that sort of cultural catastrophe.

If you don’t look like me, I hate you.

If you don’t act like me, I hate you.

If you don’t vote like me, I hate you.

If you don’t share my beliefs on this, that or the other — you guessed it. I hate you.

Is it just me or has this sort of “thinking” — I hate to give people like that credit for using their brains when they’re clearly not — become epidemic in recent years?

But it’s more than just people being hateful and stupid. It’s also people being heartless and uncaring. The death of empathy.

Some people like to frame political battles as “culture wars.” But this isn’t just Democrats and Republicans and liberals and conservatives fighting for power at the local, state and federal levels and using cultural symbols or themes as props.

This is about how much we’ve accepted — and endorsed — poor treatment of others even in everyday life. It can be emotional, criminal or simply transactional. Just another inconsiderate driver who pulls out in front of you or a rude clerk or customer.

I try to let them stuff go. I still get annoyed. I’m not perfect, but I’d like to think that with age and gray hair, I’ve also acquired a little of the patience and tolerance that eluded me in my youth. Maybe it’s the realization that — for better or worse — we’re all in this together and we have more in common than we think we do.

As a former boss once said, “Remember, none of us are getting out of here alive.” That’s one reason I’ve never understood hate as a modus operandi. Life is too short to spend a moment hating someone else because of how they look, who they sleep with, what religion they practice or their political affiliation.

I thought about Arendt recently as I watched a man drive through a marked crosswalk at Giant Eagle in Howland and nearly hit an elderly man. The guy was about halfway through the crosswalk heading to the parking lot when the vehicle sideswiped him and nearly knocked him to the ground. Somehow, although unsteady, he caught his balance and stared incredulously at the vehicle as the driver ran a stop sign and zipped into a parking space directly across from me.

I’m usually non-confrontational, but I had to say something, so I followed him into the store and as I passed him to grab a cart, I said, “Hey, you nearly ran over that old guy in the crosswalk.”

Cold busted. He briefly looked up, then dropped his eyes and walked away.

Was saving four seconds worth it? Of course not. Nor was it the crime of the century.

Just a small reminder that this is who we are now.

Ed Puskas is editor of the Tribune Chronicle and The Vindicator. He can be reached at 330-841-1786 or epuskas@tribtoday.com.