Making a Villain . . .

OR “Practice Makes Perfect.”

In a recent BookTube post we discussed John Scalzi’s latest book, Starter Villain. In that video, I mentioned this blog so I better finish it.

In this light-hearted comedy about familial dysfunction, organized crime and ultimately calculating and brutal betrayal, we were faced with the question of “what makes a villain?”

In literature, the hero (protagonist) normally: i) has some sort of a quest or purpose, ii) is usually present in most of the narrative, iii) may have a cast of supporting characters, iv) faces some sort of opposition in the fulfillment of that quest. Number iv) is where “the villain” (antagonist) comes in. In some stories these traditional associations are reversed. In short, the “bad guy” becomes the protagonist and his goals are then opposed by the (allegedly) “good guy.” But what makes a “bad guy” a “bad guy”?

Which “Evil” is most realistic?

The Book Leo brings up the live debate on BookTube about whether it is better to have a villain with a back story which explains that they are just a normal guy who had some bad things happen OR if it is better to have a dyed-in-the-wool, bad-to-the-bone EVIL guy who just likes doing evil. It seems to be a matter of opinion, BUT literature succeeds or fails based in part on verisimilitude (I am very sorry). Verisimilitude just means the degree to which something rings true. It doesn’t destroy our suspension of disbelief as we read. If we see someone doing something totally out of character, OR if things happen that just don’t happen in real life, we check out. We stop reading.

So what does that mean? Do some of us (as readers) really believe that there are certain people who are just irredeemably evil? Are there others that believe that people are basically good? That is perhaps a pretty good explanation, but the problem runs deeper to religion, culture and the definitions of good and evil.

EMPLemon talks about the relationship between “villainy” and evil. He points out that notions of good or evil are normally related to some cultural or religious framework. Throughout history there are certain individuals that we equate with evil: Adolph Hitler, Mao Zedong (Tse-Tung), Joseph Stalin. Being responsible for a genocide certainly puts a person into the running for evil. Killing millions of innocent people certainly seems like a good enough reason to consider someone evil. But what makes evil . . . evil, especially if there is no such thing as evil. Then we have a bit of a problem. If the story was told from their point of view? Would that somehow make them the hero of their own story? What makes them evil?

As in so many cases, Socrates comes to the rescue.

Socrates didn’t believe that people are able to purposely choose to do evil, although they are able to do it accidentally. The way this is understood by many is that a person is not choosing something bad/evil (death, destruction, suffering, etc.), rather, they are merely pursuing some other good. For example, consider a bank robber. Does that person want to threaten, injure, or possibly kill others? No. That person believes that they can gain monetary reward without work (albeit through the threat of violence). So with the simplistic answer (that is wrong by the way), the robber desires a good and accidentally (?) commits an evil.

There is a charm to this argument, even though its not what Socrates is talking about. Good people, especially, project their own feelings onto others. After all, why woud anyone want to hurt someone else?

This touches on the next element of the problem. When modern philosophers speak of “evil” they normally think in terms of hedonism, (i.e. good is what causes pleasure/ avoids pain, and evil is what causes pain) OR in terms of utilitarianism (i.e. good is good because it CAUSES good things for the most people). Both views tend to settle in the notion of pain vs. pleasure, whether for the individual or the many.

However, Socrates’ notion of good vs. evil actually does not have to do with pleasure or pain. What Socrates is actually saying touches on the Greek notion of the immortality of the soul (psyche). Evil actions actually erode or destroy the essence of what it means to be human. Beyond the eternal and religious implication, there is a more pragmatic one: the issue of “practice.” One “evil decision” weakens the soul so that it is more apt to make another evil decision. On the other hand, good allows for the proper function and growth of the soul. In other words, “good” and “evil” are the sorts of actions that are practiced. The really great thing about this is that Socrates really doesn’t explain. He seems to believe that what “destroys the soul” is self-evident. (For a fuller treatment of Socrates’ argument see this little article by Melinda Muse).

Socrates is saying that an “evil decision” is not merely one that harms someone else. It is an action that simultaneously damages the soul of the perpetrator and makes him less capable of good. Take an example from Harry Potter. Voldemort murdered people in order to make horcruxes so that he might “live forever.” However, the evil acts actually fractured and destroyed his humanity.

But we don’t necessarily need to point to a Greek “immortal soul” or even the magical world of J.K. Rowling. Though it is an extreme example, it is a true one. During WWII, the Einsatzgruppen or “deployment groups” followed the front-line troops in the early years of the war. The job of these squads was to exterminate the Jewish and Romani peoples along with the intelligentsia in the occupied regions. They forced the innocents to dig a mass grave, then lined them up and gunned them into the hole. However, the casualties were too high. German casualties. The brass soon learned that forcing regular men to murder innocent people caused them to either i) kill themselves or ii) go off the rails and start killing everyone.

Whether you say these men suffered the destruction of their souls (Greek Psyche) or the destruction of their minds (psyche), there isn’t much difference. Soldiers who did not defy orders either truly became villains so that they COULD actually choose actions that destroyed their own soul . . . or they chose to take their own lives in one way or another.

What does that mean for “villain making” in real life or in literature? Like Socrates, I don’t think we need to explain what things build or destroy our humanity. It seems to be mainly self-evident. Suffering a difficult past doesn’t make a villain. In literature (and in life) a hero and a villain may have nearly identical back stories. The difference is not merely in the response to these situations, but in the goals that they pursue and the actions that they perpetrate. We get good at that which we practice.

So when we see a “hardened criminal” or a “true villain,” it may be that what we are seeing is in fact the outcome of a lifetime of hard work.