What We Can Learn from Fictional Villains Who Had a Point

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Let’s be honest—some villains make way too much sense. Sure, they might go about things in the worst possible way, but every now and then, they raise a point that leaves us shifting uncomfortably in our seats. They’re not just moustache-twirling agents of chaos; they’re flawed reflections of society’s failures, holding up a cracked mirror to our collective conscience. So what can we actually learn from the baddies who, if we’re really being honest, had a point?

Take Killmonger from “Black Panther.” His methods were undeniably violent, but his motivation? Rooted in historical injustice and real-world oppression. He challenged the idea of isolationism in a world shaped by colonialism and systemic inequality. His anger was justified, even if his solution was catastrophic. He forced audiences—and Wakanda—to confront uncomfortable truths about privilege and responsibility.

Then there’s Magneto from the “X-Men” franchise. A Holocaust survivor turned mutant rights extremist, Magneto’s fears aren’t unfounded. He’s seen firsthand what humanity does to those it considers different. His extreme stance—mutant superiority over humans—is dangerous, but it’s rooted in trauma, survival, and a desperate need for protection. The X-Men’s entire philosophical tension hinges on this very real debate: coexistence versus self-preservation.

Even Thanos—snap-happy, purple and terrifying—wasn’t entirely off the mark. Overpopulation, resource scarcity, environmental collapse… these are legitimate concerns. His plan to randomly erase half of all life? Horrific. But his belief that something drastic had to be done to rebalance the universe? Not completely baseless. It’s the classic utilitarian nightmare: the greatest good at an unbearable cost.

Disney villains aren’t exempt either. Think about Ursula from “The Little Mermaid.” She’s portrayed as manipulative and power-hungry, but let’s not forget: Ariel broke a contract. It wasn’t exactly an ethical one, sure, but Ursula played by the rules of the deal Ariel agreed to. Who’s really at fault there—the sea witch, or the teenager who didn’t read the fine print?

Villains who have a point often highlight the failures of the heroes. They expose the cracks in the systems we’ve come to accept. They point out hypocrisy, inequality, and complacency. They challenge the status quo with uncomfortable questions: Who gets to decide what’s right? Who benefits from the current system? Who is left out, and at what cost?

Of course, the key takeaway isn’t to emulate these characters—it’s to listen to what they’re trying to tell us. Strip away the destruction and drama, and you’ll often find valid grievances at the heart of villainy. They’re extreme because they’ve been pushed too far. They’re wrong in action but sometimes right in observation.

Understanding this doesn’t make them heroes. But it does make their stories more powerful—and more relevant. In a world that often favours neat binaries of good and evil, the villains who blur the lines remind us to ask deeper questions. Not just about the characters, but about ourselves.

So next time you find yourself nodding along with a fictional antagonist—don’t panic. Maybe they’re not right. But maybe they’re not entirely wrong either.