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That's an impressive amount of certainty about a life he's never lived.

He doesn't know whose hand the man has held, what he's lost, who he's loved, what he's given, or what he's done when nobody was watching.

Yet somehow he's appointed himself qualified to measure another man's humanity.

That's the irony here.

He wrote an entire paragraph about compassion while demonstrating none.

He wrote about love while using it as a weapon.

And he condemned someone for thinking only of himself while never once considering that he might be wrong.

If this is his demonstration of what it means to be human, he may want to choose a different example.