The hero trap: moral absolutism in value-based communication

Simplification has saved us many times throughout history, especially when we had to recognize a real threat, like a wild animal, a poisonous plant, or a natural disaster. And this is exactly the dynamic behind what we call cognitive biases: mental shortcuts that help us make sense of the world quickly, but often lead to oversimplified and distorted judgments.

Why hero–villain narratives stick

Jerusalem Demsas, a journalist at The Atlantic, puts it well:

Narratives are a way of simplifying a really complicated world. Compelling ones follow story structures that we’re used to seeing: a villain and a hero, a bad developer versus a mother who’s struggling to get her kids through college.

She adds something even more interesting: these narratives work because they contain a grain of truth. They’re not completely made up, and that small bit of truth is enough to make them stick and for us to keep reinforcing them, often without realizing it.

When I think about this good versus evil, hero versus villain dynamic, I often feel like there’s no way out. We grew up with two big stories: the first tells us we’re special; the second tells us that there are good guys and bad guys, and of course, we’re always on the right side — no need to prove it.

The hero versus villain structure is as old as humanity itself. It has crossed through time, cultures, and generations. Why? Because like all behavior shaped by heuristics (which are mental shortcuts rooted in cognitive biases) it helps us make fast decisions with confidence. It gives us a sense of order in chaos, a comforting map in an uncertain world. But like all simplifications, it risks hiding the full complexity.

Modern media, from newspapers and television to social media, amplifies these hero-villain narratives and plays a big role in shaping public conversations. Journalism thrives on conflict and character-driven storytelling. Communication research shows that media often assigns these roles to central figures, shaping how audiences understand events.

Taking a stand without losing the plot: recognizing moral absolutism

So, the polarization everyone talks about isn’t just about opposing topics or ideologies. It’s also about the roles we take on. And maybe that’s the hardest part to break down or soften.

After all, when you’re defending a polarized belief or ideology, it requires a clear stance. One that defines not just your role as the person “on the right side,” but more importantly, the role of the other, the one who wants to tear it all down.

That’s why I found the term “moral absolutism” so insightful, especially in the phrase that I quote from the article “Narrative Framing and Moral Absolutism: Cognitive Effects of Binary Moral Constructs in Education” by Jessica Raymond et al. (2025):

One consequence of semantic polarization is the collapse of interpretive flexibility. Words that were once ideologically neutral—such as “science,” “justice,” or “freedom”—become anchored in partisan meaning. This phenomenon is known as semantic anchoring, and it reduces the space for cross-partisan dialogue. When every term signals allegiance, debate becomes less about ideas and more about identity.

It means that ideas and ideals are no longer things we develop and enrich over time, but things that stay fixed. And in a way, that’s exactly how we’ve always seen it , that our moral and value system is something handed down from above, something we follow like a dogma.

But this doesn’t just happen in conservative thinking. It shows up in progressive and liberal spaces too, in social issues, health, environmental, and sustainability conversations.

Just to be clear, of course we need to take a stance, and I truly hope we always do. But what often happens in how we communicate certain values is that same hero-villain setup: I come forward with all the solutions, standing against an entity (often vague or abstract) that wants to block me.

Let’s look at a few examples of this hero-villain pattern in the climate, social justice, and sustainability spaces, fully aware that any conclusions or summaries will inevitably be simplified:

Cause	Hero 😇	Villain 👿	Main narrative
Climate action	Youth activists, scientists, green startups, the “informed citizen”	Fossil fuel industry, oil lobby, climate deniers	“We’re racing against time to stop greedy polluters from destroying our planet.”
Social justice	Marginalised voices, allies, grassroots organisers	Systemic racism, bigots, oppressive systems	“Together we stand for equality against centuries of injustice.”
Sustainability	Conscious consumer, ethical brands	Fast fashion, big agri, greenwashing corporations	“You have the power to make a difference. Say no to brands that harm.”
Anti-discrimination	Inclusive leaders, activists, whistleblowers	Gatekeepers, status quo, exclusionary systems	“We’re creating space for everyone, and dismantling systems that shut people out.”

One thing that stands (aside from such rigid and inescapable categorizations) out is that it's often all smoke and mirrors.

What do words like “equality,” “sustainability,” and “justice” really mean? And who exactly are the “tyrants,” the “anti-democratic forces,” “the system,” “the government”?

A huge amount of effort goes into declaring a vision (abstract, yes, but powerful and captivating) and very little into explaining how that vision will take shape.

It’s right to take a position, and it’s often strategic too. But if every institution, brand, or organization adopts the same story (hero versus villain) then who’s really the hero? You? Them? Everyone? What truly sets your stance apart, the one that should reflect your mission and strategy, from anyone else’s?

And most importantly: with what tools? From what angle? Through which perspectives, discussions, compromises, and tangible exchanges?

That’s where the heart of the discourse should be. And yet, it remains just a statement of intent, without direction and without substance.

If we’re all heroes (or potentially all villains), there’s no room left for dialogue, for solutions, for nuance.

Only a race to see who can shout the loudest about being right.