When Violence Feels Like Righteousness
How myth-based thinking turns ordinary people into moral warriors — sometimes fatally
No one wakes up believing they’re the villain.
Even those who commit horrific acts often think they’re defending something sacred — their people, their faith, their freedom, their truth. That is the terrible power of myth: it can turn cruelty into conviction.
The moral alchemy of myth
At its best, myth gives shape to human values. It tells stories about courage, justice, and meaning. But when myth hardens into ideology, it performs a darker magic — it transforms personal insecurity into moral certainty. Suddenly, anger feels like duty, vengeance feels like justice, and violence feels like virtue.
People don’t commit atrocities because they love evil; they do it because they believe they’re saving something good. The myth provides the script, and the emotions — fear, pride, belonging — fill in the rest.
The seduction of the hero story
We all want to matter. Myths promise significance: a clear line between good and evil, and a role for us in the fight. In times of chaos or disillusionment, the fantasy of being the hero is intoxicating. It gives order to fear and purpose to rage.
But the problem with every “holy war,” whether religious, political, or personal, is that it erases complexity. Once we divide the world into pure good and pure evil, empathy becomes betrayal and violence becomes sacred.
From narrative to necessity
When people believe the myth absolutely, violence stops feeling optional. It becomes necessary. A moral imperative. From crusades to revolutions to modern extremism, the pattern repeats: people imagine themselves as guardians of truth, unable to see that they’ve become instruments of destruction.
Myth-based righteousness feeds on stories of persecution — we are under attack — and redemption — we must fight to restore purity. These stories appeal because they turn fear into purpose and shame into strength. But they also strip away our humanity, one moral justification at a time.
Breaking the spell
The antidote to violent righteousness isn’t cynicism — it’s imagination. When we learn to imagine other people’s perspectives, our mythic certainty begins to crack. Empathy reintroduces complexity; complexity defuses fanaticism.
We can still cherish our values without dehumanizing those who see the world differently. We can still fight for justice without turning struggle into crusade.
The harder, holier courage
It takes far more courage to protect peace than to wage war for purity. True righteousness doesn’t demand blood; it demands restraint. It requires us to hold our convictions lightly enough to keep our compassion intact.
When myth tells us to conquer, wisdom whispers to understand.
And if we can learn to tell that story — a story where empathy, not violence, becomes the highest form of courage — maybe we can finally break the ancient spell that makes so many ordinary people feel holy for doing harm.