On Villains
Sometimes I find myself hoping the villain will defeat the hero. I’ve been fascinated by villains for years, sometimes to the point that I am worried for their safety. While I usually have little to no issue connecting with the protagonist, some antagonists are somehow compelling enough that I want them or their actions to succeed. I don’t necessarily condone all the actions of the antagonist, but seeing them triumph over the protagonist can at times give me more satisfaction than seeing the hero win the day. That is, I don’t just like seeing the antagonist themself, I also like seeing them commit dastardly deeds. In terms of morality, I would consider myself fairly normal- I don’t like seeing evil in the real world and certainly do not want to perpetrate it. All the same, these fictional villains and their evil actions appeal to me. This is a conundrum that I have wondered about from time to time, and now I can start to look more seriously for answers. Over the course of the semester we have studied various rhetorical theories for why fiction appeals to people, and I can apply some of that theory to understanding why it is that I love (some) of these villains so much.
My love of villains is largely explainable through what rhetorical theorist Kenneth Burke calls “submerged experience” (Burke 155). Burke, looking at the human mind, states that “a capacity to function in a certain way is an obligation to so function,” or to put it more simply: if you can act a certain way, part of you wants to act that way (Burke 155). I- just like every other person on that planet- have the capacity for both good and evil. Growing up, I was told that certain things were wrong (e.g. murder and theft), and the laws of the land reinforce that notion. As a result, I don’t tend to go around committing murder or stealing from people. However, the part of me that is capable of murder and theft is not gone, it is simply submerged. When I read stories where villains do evil things, that darkness inside of me is pleased. Although I myself am not the villain, the part of my mind that desires evil associates itself with the villain and approves of their actions. It revels in reading descriptions of villainy. A Psychology Today article titled “We Bond With Fictional Villains Who Resemble Us” describes the findings of a study about how people associate with fictional villains, including some psychological insights about the human mind. The article states that “psychologists have long believed that we cannot become fully mature until we understand our ‘shadow selves,’ the parts of us that carry forbidden emotions and urges. But that’s hard to do because we are often socialized to believe these parts of us are unacceptable” (Escalante). In other words, the “shadow self” is the submerged part of the human mind that constantly seeks ways to express itself. Since I choose to deny it the opportunity to come out in any meaningful way in real life, it lies dormant beneath the surface until I read about acts of evil that appeal to it. When I read about those things, the “shadow” or submerged part of me is pleased.
Another piece of literary theory that helps explain my ability to enjoy watching villains destroy things is the idea of the real reader vs the implied reader. Rhetorical theorist Wayne Booth argues that since readers “are not in a position to profit from or be harmed by a fictional character, our judgment is disinterested, even in a sense irresponsible. We can easily find our interests magnetized by characters who would be intolerable in real life” (Booth 130). I, the real, physical, flesh and blood human being will not be harmed by what happens in the story- the antagonist cannot jump out of the pages of the book and grab me. Instead, I enter into the world of the antagonist as the implied reader, a reader who is similar to me but is far more morally flexible. The Psychology Today article notes that the authors of the study on villains wrote about how “when a character is fictional, we can enjoy their ‘badness’ without risking our own self-image. By connecting to villainous characters who share our traits, we can safely indulge our shadow selves without feeling threatened” (Escalante). By mentally distinguishing between myself and the implied reader, the darker parts of me can enjoy hearing about villainy without me becoming worried that my personality is tainted. The submerged, darker parts of me can have their fun without there being any real-world consequences.
Consequences- or the lack thereof- also tie well into the idea of practical interests. Practical interests are the interests the reader has in the characters in the story (Booth 125). The more interest I have in a character, the greater investment I have in them. At the same time, if a character is not particularly interesting, I won’t care very much about them. At the end of the movie Rogue One, Darth Vader boards a Rebel ship and kills a number of Rebel troopers. To be blunt, I don’t particularly care about those troopers: they aren’t main characters or even minor/side characters, they have no specific backstory, no previous dialogue or appearances, and no real import after this scene finishes. I have no practical interest in the Rebel troopers. As a result, I am less concerned with the fact that allies of the protagonists are dying and more concerned with how cool Vader looks as he walks down the hallway. On the other hand, Anakin/Vader is a (arguably the) main character in the Star Wars universe. I have seen him many times before and have a vested interest in his character arc, wherever it may go. If I had to choose between a fleshed out antagonist surviving the battle or the bland protagonists, I would rather the villain win so I can see more of them in the future (Edwards).
While I would argue that it’s typically easier to develop practical interests in the protagonists (in part because the antagonists are usually given many negative character traits for the viewer to hate), it’s still possible to care about the villains. In a Psychological Science article titled “From Voldemort to Vader, Science Says We Prefer Fictional Villains Who Remind Us of Ourselves,” the unnamed author discusses the same study about people liking villains. The article states that “according to new research published in the journal Psychological Science, people may find fictional villains surprisingly likeable when they share similarities with the viewer or reader” (“Voldemort”). I can attest that I sometimes find villains likable when they have similar qualities to me- or qualities I wish to have. One villain in particular comes to mind immediately: Star Wars’ Imperial Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Grand Admiral Thrawn is a villain who- in some ways- I can relate to or even admire. While I do not always approve of his actions, he has many positive qualities. First, his general demeanor is calm and collected, and he rarely loses his cool. Voice actor Lars Mikkelsen does an excellent job in giving Thrawn’s voice a smoothness that immediately makes it clear that Thrawn is in control of the situation. As a result, the few times Thrawn gives extra emphasis to his words carry a great deal of weight. Thrawn is respectful to almost everyone, including his enemies; when he speaks to the Rebels, he refers to them by their rank and last name rather than trying to demean them. He is willing to recognize and compliment his enemies’ skills, such as Hera’s combat flight skills and Sabine Wren’s paintings. On top of this, Thrawn has a genius-level intellect and puts great effort into learning about and understanding his enemies. Thrawn explicitly states that “to defeat an enemy, you must know them. Not simply their battle tactics, but their history, philosophy, art,” and so Thrawn studies those things (“Hera’s Heroes”). He is able to learn things that others do not as a result of his studies. Further, Thrawn is capable of turning each setback he faces into an advantage of some kind. Notably, while a Rebel agent is able to warn the rest of the Rebels that Thrawn is coming for their fleet, Thrawn uses the path of the transmission to locate the main Rebel base (Star Wars: Rebels). So many of these qualities are ones I like and want to possess. I like to think of myself as intelligent, so Thrawn’s intelligence resonates with me. I like to be in control of situations, and Thrawn is almost always in control. I would love to have Thrawn’s genius and ability to accurately predict the actions of others. Because Thrawn possesses traits I see in myself and traits I wish to have, I am able to view him positively despite his role as an antagonist.
To give an example of Thrawn’s brilliance, I turn to the TV show Star Wars: Rebels. In the episode “Hera’s Heroes,” protagonists Hera and Ezra have their first encounter with Thrawn. Since Ezra is disguised as a scout trooper and Thrawn has never met Hera before, he has no way of knowing that they are Rebels. Thrawn notices that Hera, a member of the Twi’lek species, is carrying a piece of Twi’lek art called a kalikori. Thrawn asks Imperial Captain Slavin if he knows what the kalikori is, and Slavin describes it as “some primitive native trinket” (“Hera’s Heroes”). Thrawn then correctly identifies the kalikori, surprising Hera with his knowledge of Twi’lek culture. Thrawn states that a kalikori is a “revered Twi’lek heirloom” that is “worthless to outsiders [but] priceless to family” (“Hera’s Heroes”). Since this particular kalikori belongs to the Syndulla family, a group of anti-Imperial freedom fighters, Thrawn is able to draw the conclusion that Hera is not just any Twi’lek, but a member of the Syndulla family and a Rebel. He immediately follows up this conclusion by using his blaster to stun the still disguised Ezra since Thrawn knows that Rebels “have friends always rushing to the rescue” (“Hera’s Heroes”). Thrawn’s choice to study the art of his enemies along with their tactics allows him to capture both protagonists. It is very clear that the Grand Admiral is not just another rank and file Imperial officer, but a serious enemy with great intelligence and a capacity to understand and predict others’ actions. Even if I do not like that Thrawn fights for the Empire, I can still respect him as a powerful individual.
Outside of the moral sphere, there are more artistic or intellectual reasons why I enjoy watching powerful villains commit acts of evil, such as the concept of progressive form. Another of Burke’s ideas, progressive form- specifically syllogistic progression- deals with the logical movement from cause to effect, from A to B to C (Burke 124). In many of the stories I read, villains are portrayed as having a certain amount of power as well as a specific goal they wish to achieve. If the villain has goals (A) and is powerful enough to achieve those goals (B), then logically the villain should achieve those goals (C). When I see villains with the capacity to wreak havoc in the world they inhabit, I expect them to do so. As a result, seeing the antagonists actually commit their evil deeds satisfies my internal need to see the results of what has been set up. This particular internal need is not the same as a submerged desire to see evil, it is a need to see cause lead to effect. Burke’s idea of repetitive form is closely tied into this discussion as well. Repetitive form deals with the idea of consistency, and in the stories I read it can be applied to the world having internal consistency- following its own rules (Burke 125). If a villain is shown to have a certain level of power, I expect that villain to retain their level of power. If in the final climactic showdown the villain is suddenly weaker or dumber than they have been shown to be, both syllogistic progression and repetitive form are broken.
To give an example of both of these forms, I return to the end of Rogue One. Since Vader’s goal is to destroy the Rebels (A) and Vader has been shown to be one of the most powerful individuals in the whole galaxy (B), I expect that Vader will easily dispatch a few basic Rebel troopers (C). Both Vader’s goals and his power level are examples of repetitive form- since no reason has been given for an alteration of either, I expect that they remain the same. If Vader had struggled to defeat the Rebels or even lost the battle, such a turn of events would have disrupted the syllogistic progression and broken the repetitive form. Instead, Vader easily defeats the Rebels, providing internal continuity and satisfying my logical expectation that he win (Edwards).
Another powerful motivator for my enjoyment of villains is my intellectual curiosity. Booth describes intellectual or cognitive interest as a “strong intellectual curiosity about ‘the facts,’ the true interpretation, the true reasons, the true origins, the true motives, or the truth about life itself” (Booth 125). One of the most intriguing questions about the universe today is the Fermi Paradox- a question that both modern astronomers and I think about. Our Milky Way galaxy is large and old enough that statistically, life should have developed in multiple (if not many) places. However, despite statistics, we do not see any such life. This is the paradox: something that should be present is missing. Many solutions to this paradox have been suggested, and while some are relatively benign (e.g. life is simply far more rare than we think), others are very sinister. I am confident you will agree that Alastair Reynolds’ solution in the Revelation Space universe counts as very sinister.
One of the reasons the villains of the Revelation Space series are so fascinating to me is that Reynolds doesn’t tell readers that they exist or what they are for a long time. This allows my intellectual curiosity to build over the course of the story. The book Revelation Space is in some ways a detective novel- there is a mystery that must be solved: what happened to a dead alien species, the Amarantin. The reader must work backwards from “crime” (the extinction of the Amarantin) back to the cause, increasing the reader’s interest in the solution- which turns out to be caused by the villains- before the reader even knows that the villains exist. Reynolds sets up this mystery very early on through “detective” Dan Sylveste, head of an archeological dig (Reynolds, Revelation Space 1-3). Remnants of Amarantin civilization are found in the geological layers up until the Event, a “single, hair-fine black demarcation- the ash of burning forests,” some 900,000 years ago (Reynolds, Revelation Space 2). This first clue is already frightening- the Amarantin didn’t simply leave the planet in peace- great destruction was involved.
Through the combination of multiple character threads the clues slowly build up, but Reynolds waits a long time to give readers the answers. At one point, Reynolds has one character reveal the truth to one of the protagonists, but does not tell the reader. Later, a second protagonist, Ilia Volyova, asks a knowledgeable entity named Sun Stealer about what is going on, and “Sun Stealer… continued to answer all the questions she had for it” (Reynolds, Revelation Space 449). It seems for a moment that when Sun Stealer explains things we as readers will finally learn the truth, but Reynolds does not tell us what Volyova learns. Instead, we must guess at the information based on her response. Volyova, never one to waste anything, “decided that she could profitably use one of the slugs in her clip. She shot the display; the great glass globe shattered into a billion icy shards, Sun Stealer’s face disrupting in the same explosion” (Reynolds, Revelation Space 449). The news that she learns is so disturbing that she wastes a bullet and damages her own ship. Because Reynolds teases the reader with information seemingly just out of our reach- twice- the desire to learn the answer becomes even stronger. It is not until another thirty pages pass- over 475 pages into the book, nearing the very end- that Reynolds finally gives readers the terrible solution to the mystery.
Even once I learned the answer to the mystery- that the Amarantin extinction was caused by the villains- the Inhibitors- my curiosity did not end. I still wanted to know the origins of the Inhibitors, their motives, and the truth of life in the galaxy itself- a set of curiosities that clearly mirrors what Booth was referring to. Revelation Space answered many of those questions, but that in turn led to more interest. The Inhibitors are an incredibly old, powerful, and technologically advanced machine race that roam the galaxy destroying intelligent life. They are the ones who wiped out the Amarantin 900,000 years prior to the start of Revelation Space, which both hints at their age and miserably fails to convey just how old they are. One reason the Inhibitors appeal to me is their age: the Inhibitors are literally a billion years old (Reynolds, Revelation Space 485). While the Inhibitors are no longer at their peak after hundreds of millions of years have passed, they are still capable of wiping out entire species (Reynolds, Revelation Space 486-487). I cannot even comprehend the amount of time represented by 1,000,000 years, so anything capable of surviving for that long already has my interest.
The Inhibitors’ appeal doesn’t end there: with that age comes an immense amount of power, including technological advancements. For perspective, it took the human race fewer than 70 years from their first airplane flight (1903) to landing on the moon (1969)- imagine what the Inhibitors are capable of after a billion years. Even if Reynolds had ended his series after Revelation Space and never shown them in action, the reveal of the Inhibitors’ existence and purpose is enough to make me fall in love with them. To add to their power yet further, there are no species powerful enough to pose a challenge to Inhibitor expansion. The Inhibitors permeate the galaxy, meaning any race that tried to go to war with them would face an enemy so numerically vast and with such a massive industrial base that resistance would be futile. Fleeing from them is impossible since they have forces lurking throughout the galaxy. Lastly, Reynolds’ choice to make the Inhibitors a machine race makes them even more formidable- they are tireless, relentless, and they are set on their purpose. You are at the mercy of their logic, and emotional pleas will not stop them from destroying your entire species. It goes without saying that I hope that nothing like the Inhibitors exists in real life. The human race has sent out probes and radio signals that, if detected, could result in our extermination. However, within the confines of fiction, the prospect of accidentally waking this sleeping giant, this monolithic, unstoppable enemy is fascinating. Returning briefly to the ideas of syllogistic progression and repetitive form, I want to see what happens when the Inhibitors arrive, how a force this immense and powerful acts, and I want to see it crush all resistance against it.
To help you better understand why the appearance and actions of the Inhibitors in the rest of the series are so fulfilling, I will explain a few things about the Revelation Space universe. Reynolds has a degree in physics and astronomy and has worked with the European Space Agency for over a decade, which he combines with his own reading of scientific articles (“Once a Physicist”). Reynolds chose to make the Revelation Space universe a somewhat more realistic one, meaning (most) everything obeys the laws of physics as we know it. For example, unlike in universes like Star Wars or Star Trek, the speed of light is a hard limit, meaning there is no hyperspace or warp speed. Ships must slowly accelerate to and decelerate from their near-lightspeed cruise velocities, meaning even a “short” journey from one star system to the next will take years. “Primitive” cryogenic technology allows for periods of hibernation, but the technology is unreliable enough that submitting oneself to the frozen sleep means you may never wake up. Because of this “lower tech” universe, the power the Inhibitors possess is even more impactful (Revelation Space). One perfect example of this occurs late in Redemption Ark when one of the protagonists is in a ship heading towards the Delta Pavonis system:
It was clear that something very odd was happening around Delta Pavonis. Scans of the planetary system showed the inexplicable
omission of three moderately large terrestrial bodies, as if they had simply been deleted from existence. More worryingly still was
what had replaced the system’s major gas giant: only a remnant of the giant’s metallic core now remained, enveloped in a skein of
liberated matter many dozens of times wider than the original planet. There were hints of an immense mechanism that had been
used to spin the planet apart: arcs and cusps and coils that were in the process of being dismantled and transformed into new
machinery. And at the heart of the cloud was something even larger than those subsidiary components: a two-thousand-kilometre- wide engine that could not possibly be of human origin. (Reynolds, Redemption Ark 477)
Even without knowing what the final construction project built, the Inhibitors’ ability to simply demolish whole planets for their purposes is mind-blowing. The sheer scale of the project both inspires awe and terror. Combined with knowing the purpose of the constructed engine and hearing about its effects, this extended set of scenes constitutes sublimity for me. It is difficult for me to read the phrase “the inexplicable omission of three moderately large terrestrial bodies” without starting to grin and giggle like a complete maniac (Reynolds, Redemption Ark 477). The Inhibitors literally ripped apart three entire planets to build their machine. To make the Inhibitors even more frightening- and intellectually fascinating- the engine the Inhibitors built is in effect a giant flamethrower that is capable of wiping out the surface of a planet. Later on, one of the protagonists watches a recording of what occurred:
By the time it impacted, the starfire flame was a thousand kilometres across. The effect was catastrophic and practically
instantaneous. The atmosphere was boiled away in a searing flash, the icecaps and the few areas of open water following instants
later. Arid and airless, the crust under the beam became molten, the spike gouging a cherry-red scar across the face of the planet.
Hundreds of vertical kilometres of the planet’s surface were incinerated, gouting into space in a hot cloud of boiled rock.
Shockwaves from the initial impact reached around the world and destroyed all life on the nightside: every human being, every
organism that humans had brought to Resurgam…. Within hours, the nightside had turned to face the sun. The spike continued to
boil, the well of the energy at the heart of the star barely tapped. Resurgam’s crust burned away, and still the beam continued to
chew into the planet’s mantle….
Then the beam flicked to another target, another world, and began the same murderous sweep…. (Reynolds, Redemption Ark
559-560)
Against such capabilities, the humans are powerless. The hell-class weapons are the most destructive weapons the humans have ever produced. They were designed and built by the Conjoiners, the masterminds behind the ship engines that allow for near-light speed travel. Their firepower is showcased when one weapon fires for half of a second and severs a massive human ship in two. At the end of Redemption Ark, Volyova takes a final stand against the Inhibitors using a number of the hell-class weapons. Reviewing the events of the battle, one of the protagonists asks “'did she make much of a difference?'” (Reynolds, Redemption Ark 558). The response is brutal: “'None at all'” (Reynolds, Redemption Ark 558). The humans may be capable of harming themselves in internal conflicts, but even the best of the best fails miserably against the Inhibitors- and an advanced guard at that. More Inhibitors will soon be coming, so if the most powerful human weapons can’t protect a planet from being razed, what hope do the humans have? This would be absolutely terrifying in real life, but in fiction seeing this entirely alien level of power is fascinating. In Revelation Space Reynolds arouses my desire to see the Inhibitors in action, and in Redemption Ark he certainly fulfills that desire.
After taking this course, it’s clear to me that there are many rhetorical reasons why I like villains. The submerged part of me enjoys seeing evil because it is not allowed to do those evil things in real life. My ability to distinguish between fiction from reality allows me to read about horrible fictional events without being harmed. Some villains are likable because I develop practical interests in them, such as Grand Admiral Thrawn. Some acts of villainy are at the very least acceptable since the targets of that villainy do not create practical interests, like nameless Rebels. Syllogistic progression and repetitive form are logically appealing and in part explain why I like seeing powerful antagonists like Darth Vader live up to their power. Intellectual interests help me to enjoy science fiction villains including the Inhibitors and want to learn more about them. All told, authors of stories use a wide variety of rhetorical strategies to make their villains likable, and it would appear that at least some of those authors are succeeding.
Booth, Wayne C. The Rhetoric of Fiction. University of Chicago Press, 1983.
Burke, Kenneth. Counter-Statement. 2nd ed., University of California Press, 1968.
Edwards, Gareth, director. Rogue One. Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures, 2016.
Escalante, Alison. “We Bond with Fictional Villains Who Resemble Us.” Psychology Today, Sussex Publishers, 20 June 2020,
www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/shouldstorm/202006/we-bond-fictional-villains-who-resemble-us.
“Hera’s Heroes.” Star Wars: Rebels, created by Carrie Beck, Dave Filoni, and Simon Kinbert, season 3, episode 5, Lucasfilm, 2016.
“Once a Physicist: Alastair Reynolds.” Institute of Physics,
web.archive.org/web/20190826132839/https://www.iop.org/careers/working-life/profiles/page_57659.html. Accessed 13 Nov. 2023.
Reynolds, Alastair. Redemption Ark. Orbit Books, 2020.
Reynolds, Alastair. Revelation Space. Orbit Books, 2020.
Star Wars: Rebels. Created by Carrie Beck, Dave Filoni, and Simon Kinbert. Lucasfilm, 2014-2018.
“From Voldemort to Vader, Science Says We Prefer Fictional Villains Who Remind Us of Ourselves.” Association for Psychological Science - APS, 22 Apr. 2020, www.psychologicalscience.org/news/releases/fictional-villains-allure.html.
Works Cited