Global Politics Without Villains: Why Harm Doesn’t Always Require Malice

Written by Lia Moskov

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Who is responsible when no one intends harm, yet suffering persists?

We are quick to search for villains in international politics, or rather simply anyone to blame. What if this instinct blinds us to a more uncomfortable reality: that some of the most damaging outcomes emerge without anyone acting in bad faith? 

What happens when harm is caused without intention? Who, or what, do we then blame?

International politics is often portrayed as a struggle between actors that are either explicitly good or evil, for example oppressive regimes against innocent civilians, or powerful actors versus powerless victims. This outlook is emotionally compelling as it provides us with moral satisfaction, offering some comfort through the notion that things are simply black-and-white, and morally rational. This provides some clarity in a world of chaos and reassures us that suffering has a cause, a perpetrator, and therefore a solution. However, this idea itself may be used to conceal a more uncomfortable reality, one that people do not like to think about within and through their daily lives, one that states that the most damaging outcomes within global politics sometimes occur without cruelty, conspiracy or clear intent. In other words, harm does not always require malice. This clarity tends to remain underlooked as it forces people to come to terms with the fact that sometimes, responsibility needs to be taken regardless of whether harmful intention was present. In these cases, the problem is not who has acted wrongly, but how systems operate collectively. So in these cases, how should responsibility be taken?

Much of global governance today operates through vast systems rather than singular decisions made by individuals. These systems are both bureaucratic and technical, and are designed to both manage risk and maintain stability. It can be observed that there have been countless checks put in place to ensure the efficiency and equity of these institutions as can be seen through existing procedures, timelines and protocols put in place to negate reliance on moral judgements in the decision-making process. And yet, it is precisely within these systems that harm can quietly accumulate. This distinction matters as there is a clear difference between intentional harm: where actors knowingly cause suffering, and systemic harm: where damage becomes an unintended consequence of these structures and their functions, or individuals becoming complacent to existing routines. The latter becomes harder to recognise and more difficult to condemn, therefore becoming arduous to resolve.  However these issues are not any less tangible. How can one blame another individual or institution that did not mean to harm them? More so when said individual or institution does not see fault in their actions because none was intended – but their actions have left a victim nonetheless?

As humans, our instinct is to search for villains. Blame offers a narrative closure and simplifies complexity into something recognisable and easy to digest, something emotionally manageable. In the context of media discourse, political rhetoric or academic debates, these systems are often reliant on identifiable perpetrators which allow us to neatly locate and assign responsibility. Systems on the other hand are diffuse and impersonal, there is no clear target for outrage, however our inherent desire for villains can become a limitation. When harm is exclusively framed as being a result of ‘bad’ actors, there is a potential risk of overlooking how damage may emerge even when individuals are acting in good faith. 

This dynamic is particularly visible within humanitarian aid delivery to Northern Syria. Following the outbreak of the civil war, international assistance was channelled through a tightly regulated system overseen by the UN, which was designed to preserve neutrality, accountability whilst still respecting state sovereignty. As a result, aid was only able to cross borders though specific authorised checkpoints and funds and partner organisations had to become subject to extensive checks and vetting, allowing each safeguard to become ethically defensible and existing to prevent misuse and the diversion or politicisation of aid. However the cumulative effect of these protections was paralysis. When earthquakes struck in 2023, humanitarian access did not fail because actors refused to help, but it failed because permission arrived too slowly. There were trucks waiting at the border while mandates were clarified and agencies were delaying deployment until they received legal authorisation. Procedures were followed with precision, and people died while so. There was no single official decision made to withhold aid, and no organisation acted outside its mandate. Harm simply emerged from the interaction of rules and jurisdictional caution. The system functioned exactly as designed and yet, the outcome was suffering produced through delay. In this instance, responsibility could not be traced to a villain, because it did not originate through intention but through structure. The violence that occurred was not deliberate, but was quiet, procedural, and tragically ordinary.

What makes systemic harm so difficult to confront is not its scale, but its subtlety. This can be observed through time how it has become a source of political damage. The pace of technological change and climate disruption now exceeds the speed at which governance can respond. This temporal gap between reality and regulation creates spaces where harm occurs but not because rules are violated, but because they no longer apply. They have simply been reduced to a system built for stability struggle in a world defined by acceleration. There is no moment of decision to interrogate, no figure to remove, and no clear line between action and consequence; accountability simply seems to diminish when outcomes emerge from interaction rather than choice. In these instances, responsibility becomes dispersed and therefore fragile.

Perhaps this explains why global politics continues to search so desperately for villains. Blame simplifies things whilst complexity unsettles us, blame provides direction and somewhere to look when things are going wrong. Whilst maybe, where we should be looking is within ourselves, and within the systems and structural institutions we depend on. In a world governed increasingly by these institutions, the most frightening thought may not be who is guilty, but how we learn to take responsibility when no one meant for harm to occur.