Unmasking Evil: The Truth Behind Our Darkest Desires

Evil, as an action, could be a thought, but that is usually forgotten, a damned intranscendent mental Sin. In general, evil is only evil when it becomes action and comes out of us as a manifestation of our darkness. But, as an action, it is not inherently evil; rather, it is evil only in relation to other actions or, better yet, perceptions of actions—interpretations. Above all, evil is a function of one's relationship with one's manque, the fundamental lack that structures one's desire.

Most of the time, what is evil is not determined by an external reaction, but by the accusation of one's inner Other, nor by the moral codifications that attempt to define it. Rather, evil’s true weight emerges in the subjective coordinates of one's own lack, in how one's act situates itself in relation to this void that constitutes one.

In Lacanian psychoanalysis, the subject is always structured around the manque-à-être—the lack of being. It is this absence that fuels desire, that gives rise to speech and action. The question, then, is not whether an action is evil in a universal sense but rather: What does this action signify in relation to one's desire that triggers a thought and then an action? The pain confronting one's evil is not a straightforward measure of truth; rather, it signals a disturbance in the symbolic fabric, one's encounter with the Real. If something wounds, it is not simply because it reflects the manque but because it disrupts the careful veiling of it—forcing an encounter with what one strives to keep concealed. That thing one is always trying to mask—the lack—is the center of one's life. That thing, that apparent “evil” act, exposes the lack for all to see, rupturing the illusion of wholeness.

When someone says, "You have done something bad," their judgment is a reflection of their own symbolic and imaginary coordinates. For them, one's act might be evil or simply a mistake, but this evaluation does not define the act in itself and even less one's relationship with it. Lacan insists that meaning is not inherent; it is constructed retroactively through the symbolic order. Thus, the ethical dimension of one's action is not about conforming to external moral laws but about whether one is acting in fidelity to one's own unconscious truth, to the structuring lack that makes one who one is.

To do evil, then, is not to violate an external rule, nor to produce a particular reaction in the Other. It is to act in a way that disavows one's own lack, one's own manque. It is to refuse the structure that constitutes one's subjectivity, to flee from the Real that lurks behind desire. But how does one flee the Real? It manifests in the clinging to false certainties, in the compulsive repetition of actions meant to dull the presence of lack, in the relentless pursuit of an illusory completion. This flight is not neutral—it has consequences. The attempt to escape the Real does not make the manque disappear; rather, it deepens the suffering, pulling one into the endless cycle of jouissance, the excess that never satisfies, that only intensifies the wound.

This is the paradox: evil is both intensely subjective and radically contingent. It does not exist as a fixed category but is instead revealed through the subject's relation to their own lack. An action that appears monstrous to one person may be a necessary traversal of fantasy for another. And yet, if one acts without acknowledging one's own structure, if one deceives oneself into believing one can escape one's manque, then perhaps that is the closest one can get to true evil—an evil not of the act itself but of the foreclosure of one's own being.

In this sense, one's relationship with one's evil is one's relationship with oneself. It is the ongoing negotiation of one's desire, one's lack, and one's ethics. To confront it is not to seek absolution from the Other but to face, embrace with unflinching honesty, the abyss that makes one who one is.

To embrace the lack is to accept it fully—to recognize that whatever one longs for to replace it will never come. There is no external resolution, no final fulfillment that will seal the void. Whether one commits an act deemed evil or abstains from it, the lack remains untouched. The only genuine act is to resist the illusion of completion and to dwell in the acceptance of desire as an open structure, an unresolved movement rather than a closed outcome.