In this urgent moment, where trans and immigrant community members are under relentless dehumanization and attacks, I find myself reflecting on Hannah Arendt’s concept of the ‘banality of evil,‘ as discussed in a recent video analyzing Adolf Eichmann’s trial. As an artist, teacher, and community organizer, I see unsettling parallels between Arendt’s observations of Eichmann and the actions—or inactions—of those complicit in today’s injustices.
Arendt’s Eichmann was not a cartoonish villain. He was “terrifyingly normal,” a logistics bureaucrat obsessed with quotas and train schedules. His chilling detachment from the human consequences of his actions allowed him to participate in unimaginable atrocities. He framed himself as a cog in the machine, “just following orders,” absolving himself of personal responsibility. This absence of critical thought—this refusal to see the humanity of others—is precisely what made his actions so monstrous.
And isn’t this what we’re witnessing today? Policies and rhetoric targeting trans and immigrant communities are often couched in sterile language—”rule enforcement,” “securing borders,” and “preserving traditional values.” These phrases mirror Eichmann’s bureaucratic jargon, reducing real people to abstractions. Trans people become “threats to women’s sports” or “ideological agendas.” Immigrants are “illegal aliens” or “burdens on the system.” This dehumanizing language allows society to look away to justify cruelty under the guise of order and law.
But here’s the truth: this kind of thoughtlessness—this banal evil—isn’t born of malice alone. It thrives in apathy, conformity, and prioritizing comfort over courage. When individuals or institutions enforce harmful policies or stay silent in the face of injustice, they replicate Eichmann’s moral detachment. They fail to engage with the human impact of their actions, reducing suffering to a line item on the agenda.
As a teacher, I see young faces every day, many of whom are trans or immigrants. They are not abstractions. They are brilliant, creative, and resilient but also vulnerable. The laws and rhetoric targeting them are not mere policy debates but attacks on their right to exist. And yet, many in power remain willfully blind to this reality, claiming to uphold “tradition” or “public safety” as if these principles were more sacred than human dignity.
As an artist, I feel compelled to respond to this moment. Art, like teaching, is an act of resistance against thoughtlessness. It demands we see, feel, and confront the uncomfortable truths we might otherwise ignore. Through color, texture, and form, I strive to break through the sterile language of bureaucracy and expose the humanity of those being targeted. My work is a counternarrative to the abstraction and dehumanization that enable oppression.
As a community organizer, I know change doesn’t happen in isolation. It requires collective courage—the willingness to ask hard questions, challenge harmful norms, and say ‘no’ when conformity whispers ‘yes.’ It requires us to reject the language of thoughtless obedience and instead speak the language of solidarity and justice. This is where we must start: refusing to look away or letting euphemisms and cliches dull our moral sensibilities. Together, we can make a difference.
Arendt warned us that evil often appears in unremarkable forms. It is not always cloaked in fiery rhetoric or explicit hate. Sometimes, it wears the face of a neighbor who shrugs and says, ‘It’s not my problem.’ Sometimes, it’s the quiet complicity of lawmakers who sign harmful bills, claiming they follow their constituents’ wishes. And sometimes, it’s our silence—our failure to act. We must reject this silence and complicity and speak out against injustice.
To confront this moment, we must reject that silence. We must recognize that the banality of evil is alive in every act of dehumanization, every policy that strips trans and immigrant people of their rights, and every choice to prioritize systems over people. And we must fight it—with art, teaching, organizing, and unwavering empathy.
Because the opposite of thoughtlessness is action, the opposite of detachment is connection. And the opposite of banality is humanity.
References
Philosopheasy. (2025, January). Is evil a choice or a condition? Exploring Hannah Arendt. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FI_2KVGNPM
Arendt, H. (1963). Eichmann in Jerusalem: A report on the banality of evil. Viking Press. https://platypus1917.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/arendt_eichmanninjerusalem.pdf
Ángel Rafael Vázquez-Concepción 