In the aftermath of World War II and the Holocaust, Hannah Arendt grappled with a searing question: How could so many people participate in evil — and how could so few resist? Her answer led her into the heart of a topic many philosophers hesitate to touch: judgment. Not legal judgment or technical assessment, but moral judgment — the human capacity to discern right from wrong without relying on rules, ideologies, or authorities.
Arendt came to believe that this form of judgment is what totalitarianism seeks to destroy. It isolates individuals, breaks down shared reality, and replaces reflection with obedience. But can judgment be rebuilt — not as dogma, but as freedom?
In Kant’s terms, aesthetic judgment involves putting oneself in the position of others, imagining how a shared world might appear from multiple perspectives. Arendt adapted this to political life: to judge is to think from the standpoint of others, without abandoning one’s own sense of self. It is the very opposite of Eichmann’s mechanical compliance.
This internal split — being unable to live with what one has done — is what Arendt saw as the true measure of moral failure. Not guilt imposed by law or society, but the collapse of the self’s own coherence. The capacity to judge, then, is not about knowledge. It is about integrity.
Arendt’s theory of judgment is an ethics without commandments. It is demanding precisely because it cannot be outsourced. We are responsible not only for what we do, but for how we see. And if we fail to judge, we risk becoming — once again — agents of the unthinkable.