Most of us will have found ourselves rooting for characters who have done terrible things. Walter White. Villanelle. Loki. Kaz Brekker. Jude Duarte. These characters lie, manipulate, even kill — yet we follow them, fascinated, hoping that, somehow, things might work out for them in the end.
Morally grey characters have become increasingly popular in modern media, reflecting a trend towards exploring the complexity of human nature. They straddle the line between right and wrong, breaking rules, working towards their own ends rather than the good of society.
Challenging our own moral code
The psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg theorised that moral reasoning is a skill that people develop over time, largely associated with growing up, although adults may respond to moral choices based on earlier stages of reasoning too. At the lowest level of moral reasoning, our priorities are our own self interest and avoiding punishment from others. Then we move into making choices based on external rules, relying on social norms and societal laws to define what is moral. And then we move into the higher level of reasoning, where we develop our own internal principles. At this level, laws and social norms are not seen as absolute, and we may challenge those rules if they conflict with our own principles.
The morally grey character triggers us to question the moral principles that we live by. If they commit an act that goes against our moral norms, but we can understand why that character has made the decision they have, it then makes us wonder if we would make the same decision in their circumstances. These challenges to our internal moral code are an important part of growing and developing as adults, and doing this through the medium of fictional characters allows for a safe space to mentally experiment with our internal rules, free of real world consequences, much as children will roleplay with their friends.
And often these stories of extremes are fascinating to us. If you don’t belong in society, if you are rejected and unloved, then what is left but to look out for yourself, to give up on complex moral questions and enjoy what you can of the life that you have? Acting without restraint, prioritising our own needs – we stop ourselves from doing this in order to avoid rejection or punishment. We are all part of family or friend units, we are part of the society in which we live, and as a result we make compromises for others in order to continue to fit in with that society. But there is a part of us that can feel excited by the idea of being free to do as we please without consequence, or being strong-willed enough to challenge the parts of society that we disagree with. Morally grey characters don’t compromise. They live the lives that they want to live, damn the consequences, and we will them to succeed, because a part of us wishes we could do the same.
The pleasure of cognitive dissonance
Empathy comes from a neurological process, designed to aid our survival. Our brains are constantly working to understand the intentions of others, and part of that understanding comes from neurologically mirroring their emotional states in ourselves. So when we witness or imagine another person feeling scared, or angry, or hurt, a representation of that state is activated in our own brain, to the point where we can almost feel it in our own bodies. This is also linked with theory of mind – the process by which we try to see the world from the perspective of those around us, in order to aid our understanding both of their actions and of the context around us. Thus, when we read or watch stories about fictional characters, our brains work hard both to try and see what they see and to feel what they feel.
In the case of villains or morally grey characters, this can lead to a feeling of cognitive dissonance, where we can empathise with them and even like them as people, but at the same time we dislike or judge the actions they have engaged in.
Cognitive dissonance can be an uncomfortable feeling, and so our brains seek to resolve it so that we feel better.
We might distance ourselves from our own moral judgement for the sake of the story. We might focus on the mitigating circumstances that could lead a character to act that way. We might compartmentalise, trying to block out the actions that we dislike in order to embrace those that we do. Or we may in fact re-evaluate our definition of good and evil due to our understanding of that character’s choices. But whatever we do – our brains are stimulated by the dilemma. We enjoy being invited to think and feel as we engage with a narrative, and it keeps us paying attention far longer than if the character did not challenge us in this way.The moral complexity of the modern world
Morally grey characters have existed throughout the ages, however, they have increased in popularity in the modern era.
As we have moved into a more secular world, we are less guided by a uniform moral code, dictated to us by those in authority. While governments may prescribe laws to live by, it was previously the realm of religion to speak to morality and ethics. Without religion, society shifts to a more relativistic view of morality, where right and wrong is not always as clear cut as it used to seem, and where we have to look to a range of different sources in order to develop our own internal code.
But also, we now live in a more complex, interconnected world, with access to a wealth of information about other cultures, religions and people. We hear scandals about people in power and are exposed to the grey areas of our societies in ways that we never were before.
So, characters who operate outside of, or conflict with, established and/or corrupt systems resonate with an audience that sees the shades of grey in the world they are living in, where no one is purely good or evil, and the right thing may be dependent on your point of view.
What This Fascination Reveals About Us
At its core, our love for morally grey characters isn’t about rebellion from the social contract, but about recognition. Through them, we see our capacity for contradiction, our potential for harm, and our longing to make sense of a complex world.
They give voice to the parts of us that crave freedom, power, or control — and then make us question what those desires mean.
We learn not just about the characters, but about our own moral elasticity, because deep down, we know: if we’d lived their lives, made their choices, carried their wounds — we might not be that different.
About the author
Caroline Ashley is a clinical psychologist who works for the NHS in Scotland. She is also an aspiring fantasy writer and this blog is a way for her to integrate her love of fiction with her knowledge of psychology. Her published short stories are available on her website, or follow the links below to read more of her blog posts.
Caroline Ashley 