Standalone Essays · Triad of Stewardship

The Dark Inclination and the Law of Light

Sojournism teaches that everyone struggles not only with error but with moral transgression — that all humans carry a dark shadow inclining us toward selfishness and wickedness. Critics sometimes hear in this something suspiciously like the Christian doctrine of a sin nature and ask whether a secular philosophy has any business speaking of a “dark side” at all. But the concept is not unique to Christianity. Many religions and philosophies acknowledge a darker aspect of human nature that must be grappled with in order to achieve self-improvement or enlightenment.

Buddhism speaks of the kleshas, the mental states that cloud the mind and lead to suffering — negative emotions such as anger, greed, and ignorance, which must be recognized and overcome. Hinduism’s principle of maya suggests that the world we perceive is an illusion, and that our true nature is obscured by ignorance and attachment to the material world; overcoming it requires transcending our baser desires. Daoism’s yin and yang emphasize the duality of opposing forces within human nature as well as the cosmos. Nor is the recognition confined to religion. Nietzsche held that humans are driven by a “will to power,” which can lead to selfishness, aggression, and exploitation, even as he believed that drive could be sublimated toward creative and noble ends. Freud placed the primitive, instinctual desires of the id in tension with the demands of society and morality. And the existentialists — Camus, Sartre — explored the darker aspects of human nature through the struggle for authenticity and the burden of responsibility.

Socrates Reversed

Socrates argued optimistically that humans are intrinsically good, or at least that virtue is a form of knowledge and that people only do wrong when they are ignorant of what is right. This is the “Socratic paradox”: no one knowingly does wrong, and all wrongdoing is a result of ignorance. On that view the soul is inherently good and is corrupted only by external factors — education, society, culture — so that wisdom and proper instruction are enough to make us virtuous.

To me that argument is fatuous. If everyone has a good nature, then how does a society formed of many “good” individuals develop a “bad” influence? And if ignorance is the only cause of evil, then why has evil not left us as we’ve learned more and more? Knowledge alone is plainly not enough to prevent all forms of evil; emotions, social norms, and power dynamics all shape behavior regardless of what a person knows.

So I turn the Socratic claim on its head. Moral turpitude is not the result of ignorance. It is the cause of ignorance. When we know what is right but choose to do what’s wrong because we think we’re going to get away with it, or because there is some short-term gain, we must deliberately blind ourselves to the moral path. Unless we are immediately struck with the consequences of our choice, this makes us more likely to do the same in future choices. I refer to this as the “Law of Light.” Those who embrace the light — in the form of truth or moral good — receive more, because their eyes are trained to be more open to it. Those who embrace the dark — in the form of lies or immorality — blind themselves and receive less light in the future. Think of it as a version of “use it or lose it.”

By suggesting that moral turpitude is the cause, rather than the result, of ignorance, I am proposing a more active role for human agency in shaping our moral selves. The Law of Light is a kind of feedback loop: those who choose to act morally find it easier to continue doing so, while those who choose immorality gradually blind themselves to the moral path. It resonates with what we know of habit formation, where repeated actions become ingrained and shape character over time, and with the psychology of cognitive dissonance, where people adjust their beliefs to align with their actions. Choosing to act immorally requires a kind of self-deception, a willful ignorance adopted to avoid the discomfort of acknowledging one’s own wrongdoing.

More Hopeful Than Original Sin

Is a doctrine of the dark inclination morose? Does it make Sojournism pessimistic about humanity? On the contrary — it is meant to offer a more hopeful view than, say, Christianity, which teaches that there is no good human. The Apostle Paul is said to have written, “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh” (Romans 7:18). The Psalmist said, “Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me” (Psalm 51:5), and later, “They have all fallen away; together they have become corrupt; there is none who does good, not even one” (Psalm 53:3). I could go on and on; the Bible really harps about this issue. Its argument is that we are literally born evil and that this state is inescapable outside of the salvific work of the crucifixion. I won’t here take up the dubious ethics of inherited sin, or of redemption through torture — that’s for another day.

What I’d like to point out is that, in contrast to this dour view of humanity, Sojournism says: Yes, you have a dark inclination, but you also have an impulse to seek the Ideal. You may struggle, but there is hope. You do not have to develop a learned helplessness in which you wait for someone outside to save you. You are responsible for yourself. You are accountable for your actions. You can make a difference, both in yourself and in your surroundings — and if you don’t, well, that’s on you. By acknowledging the duality of human nature while insisting on agency, Sojournism neither ignores the darker aspects nor renders us helpless before them.

No One Beyond Hope

If the struggle between good and evil is exhausting and demoralizing — if it can feel like moral quicksand — is there such a thing as a person who is beyond hope? No. Sojournism argues that it is precisely because there is no one beyond the hope of seeing and pursuing the light that the wicked should be held accountable for their actions. Compassion for the wicked should remain, but no one should be excused for deliberately choosing evil. Even when a society applies capital punishment, or its officers shoot a person who is threatening others, or it goes to war to protect its citizens and thereby kills another community’s people, there should remain a measure of sorrow and regret at the action. Every human holds great potential. Every life could be beautiful in its own way. To snuff it out without regret is to take a step toward the dark side. But sometimes, though there might be hope for the person or community to embrace the light, their actions are so grievous that to allow them to continue harming others would be an even greater injustice than taking their lives.

The study of evil is often referred to as “ponerology,” a term derived from the Greek poneros, meaning “evil.” It is an interdisciplinary field — drawing on psychology, philosophy, sociology, and theology — that explores the nature of evil, its causes, and its manifestations in human behavior and society. This account of the dark side is Sojournism’s attempt to wrestle with it. I leave it to the reader to decide how well it does.

I find it remarkable that, despite this internal turmoil, we still somehow manage to function in the world. I did not have one single event in mind when I wrote that; rather it was a thread running through many thousands of events I’d witnessed. I’ve lived in failed states, where poverty is so terrible that most Americans can’t even imagine the conditions. Yet there were children figuring out how to make toys out of trash. There were mothers and daughters waiting in long lines or walking miles for food or water, but swapping gossip and singing folk songs. Men constantly on the lookout for militias and warlords still went out faithfully each day to find food for their families. I remember a lady who was bedridden with a painful disease who wrote a constant stream of encouraging letters and notes to people; she felt this was her contribution to the community, and it was in fact a tremendous asset, in spite of her handicap. I’ve witnessed the dregs of humanity, and looked into the eyes of men who held not a shred of compassion or pity. But I’ve also seen people faced with horrible consequences stand up for their beliefs and say no to their oppressor, even as their bodies were tortured and killed. I don’t know which way humanity will end up going, but I do know it holds both great promise and awful danger. It is for this reason — not in spite of this teaching on the dark side, but because of it — that Sojournism is at heart a simultaneously pragmatic and hopeful philosophy.

The Little Foxes

The evil inclination works incrementally. You will do the right thing with the wrong attitude. Soon you are doing the right thing the wrong way. Then, before you know it, you are doing the wrong thing. It starts with seemingly small compromises — you might donate to a charity, but only because you want to impress others with your generosity. Over time those compromises escalate. You start to cut corners or bend rules to achieve your goals; you might misrepresent your qualifications on a job application to secure a position, still pursuing a positive goal but by dishonest means. If left unchecked, the drift eventually leads to outright wrongdoing, because you have become desensitized to the consequences of your actions.

I believe it was Solomon who said, and I paraphrase, “It’s the little foxes that spoil the vines.” The devil is in the details. We are not likely to fall for a huge temptation like murder, but we are liable to harbor bitterness, which if allowed to foment can eventually lead to murder. We are unlikely to be unfaithful if someone walks up and says, “Hey, let’s commit adultery!” But if there is a look here, a smile there, some standing a little close, perhaps a touch, some lingering after work to talk, and perhaps a dinner — then, next thing you know, there you are doing something you may once have thought unimaginable. We must constantly be wary of those small foxes and deal with them before they spoil the vines of our lives.

Strength Sufficient to the Day

The great tragedy of the dark side is that there is never a day when your strength is insufficient to avoid evil or to do good. This does not preclude mitigating factors like mental illness or extreme emotional duress. Rather it is a reminder that, in general, we always have the ability to choose between good and evil, even when that choice is harder in certain circumstances. Sojournism, like many ethical philosophies, acknowledges that a person’s capacity to make moral decisions may sometimes be compromised — someone suffering from severe mental illness, or experiencing an overwhelming emotional response, may not be fully in control of their actions. In such cases the individual may still bear some responsibility, but their moral culpability is diminished. These situations are the exception rather than the rule. Most of us do have the capacity to choose between good and evil on a daily basis, and the philosophy holds personal responsibility and moral choice firmly in view while still allowing that there are shades of gray.

This refusal of black-and-white thinking runs through the whole framework. Sojournism recognizes the inherent complexity of both human nature and natural systems, and asks us to embrace the messy, uncertain aspects of life rather than pretend there are always simple, straightforward answers.

Guilt as a Mirror

Most people shy away from guilt as they would from physical pain, trying not to think of what they did and moving on as quickly as they can. In doing so they fail to learn fully the lessons their psychic pain can provide. It is better to treat guilt as a mirror and to use what we learn from what we see in it. There is, admittedly, a danger that some may become stuck in guilt — sliding into shame, depression, or even paralysis — and allow it to halt their movement toward the Ideal. The key is to approach guilt with a growth mindset, recognizing that while we may have caused harm, the experience can yield valuable insight. That requires self-compassion and forgiveness, which does not mean excusing harmful behavior but acknowledging our imperfections and committing to learn from them.

This is where the regular practice of meditation comes in handy. One of its techniques is to observe one’s own thoughts without judging them or ascribing value to them. You focus on a chosen point, but inevitably the mind wanders. You see the meandering, acknowledge it, and calmly lead the mind back. Perhaps it surfaces something that really needs attention — note it, set it aside for later, and calmly return. You end up doing this hundreds and hundreds of times, and it is a valuable lesson. When you mess up, you examine it, acknowledge it for the error it was, learn from it, and then calmly resume your path to the Ideal, better informed.

Part of the Triad of Stewardship’s Standalone Essays. Companion pieces: Forgiveness and Its Limits (forthcoming) · The Mandates of Conflict · Criminal Justice.