Is The Rise of the Villain the Fall of an Era?

When did we, as a society start actively cheering for those who want to be the bad guy? I remember a time when certain behaviors weren't accepted. Then gradually they those behaviors became tolerated and now it seems we've entered in to an era where nothing is off the table.

The Problem

Somewhere along the way, we lost perspective. This isn’t about rejecting edgy humor, complex characters, or diverse opinions —nor is it about embracing cancel culture or constant outrage as an identity. I’m talking about a cultural shift where we’re not just entertained by unethical behavior but actively rooting for it.

Actions that would have once sparked public outrage and ended a political career are now shruggbd off.

Consider the way political figures accused and/or convicted of harassment—or worse, crimes like assault, corruption, or financial misconduct—not only remain viable candidates but often win elections. Actions that would have once sparked public outrage and ended a political career, like Gary Hart's affair in 1988, are now shrugged off. Today, even scandals involving sex with minors seem to enhance a politician's influence. Instead of accountability, these behaviors are reframed as strength, cleverness, or simply “part of the game.”

This normalization extends beyond politics. Entertainment reflects this shift. The Penguin is a titular main character in the new hit HBO Max show. His power plays, betrayals, and manipulations define his character, yet many of us (myself included) find ourselves rooting for his rise. After the season finale, I realized I had spent the season rationalizing Oswald Cobb's terrible actions as part of a hero’s journey, when he was, in fact, always the villain.

Jake Paul has also mastered this dynamic. His “Problem Child” brand thrives on his willingness to push ethical boundaries. For example, his fight with 58-year-old Mike Tyson was widely criticized as exploitative—bordering on elder abuse—but the public celebrated it as entertainment. It wasn’t about sportsmanship; it was about shock value. And we applauded it.

When did we start admiring the dark side of humanity instead of challenging it?

In wrestling, the “heel” was meant to be the villain, a foil to amplify the triumph of the hero, or “babyface.” But somewhere along the way, heels became the fan favorites. Audiences didn’t just watch their antics; they celebrated them.

Maybe we’ve always had a soft spot for rule-breakers, but something feels different now. It’s no longer just entertainment—it’s a reflection of our shifting values as a society. When did we start admiring the dark side of humanity instead of challenging it? What happened that our appreciation and admiration shifted toward the villain?

Several factors seem to have nudged us in this direction:

1. Media Saturation: Social media and reality TV blur the lines between fame and infamy. Attention—whether positive or negative—is the ultimate currency.
2. Desensitization: Scandals and shock value are so common that we’ve stopped asking, “Is this good?” Instead, we ask, “Is it entertaining?”
3. Complexity in Storytelling: Villains today are written to be relatable, even aspirational. We overlook their flaws as we admire their boldness. In a society where critical analysis or emotional intelligence isn't consistently taught, ambition seems to outweigh morality, like kindness and compassion.

There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a nuanced character or an edgy narrative. The concern lies in how this perspective spills over into real life. When we start actively rooting for those who intentionally seek to hurt and harm others and when we excuse their actions in the name of charisma, politics or spectacle, we’re crossing a line.

If we celebrate the villains of our culture, what kind of heroes are left for the next generation to follow?

For those who don’t study history, the decline of the Roman Empire offers a powerful cautionary tale. What was once a thriving civilization faltered under the weight of corruption, greed, and apathy. Gladiator games—not unlike Tyson vs. Paul— distracted from deeper societal issues, glorifying violence and numbing people to suffering. Leaders prioritized personal power over the public good, and gradually, the structures holding society together began to unravel.

It’s not a one-to-one comparison, but it’s worth asking: What happens when we normalize cruelty and villainy? When accountability becomes optional? When spectacle replaces substance?

How do we balance entertainment and ethics, charisma and accountability? If we keep celebrating villainy, what kind of culture are we building?

If we celebrate the villains of our culture, what kind of heroes are left for the next generation to follow? It’s time to decide.

Let’s talk about it. Share your thoughts—I’m curious where you stand.