Author: Ano Aravengel
For many years, darkness has been mainly associated with evil, bad or unethical behaviour. We see this in religious teachings, spiritual communities, mythology, literature and even the language used to describe human conduct. Someone who commits an atrocious act is associated with darkness while goodness is frequently represented through light, purity and illumination. I have always found this peculiar considering that darkness itself has never committed an unethical act. It has never deceived anyone, inflicted suffering or deliberately caused harm. Yet humanity continues to assign it responsibility for representing nearly everything considered undesirable. There is something almost contradictory about condemning an aspect of existence that possesses neither intention nor the capacity to make moral decisions. Perhaps the problem begins with our tendency to give moral identities to things we do not fully understand. After all, when the sun disappears beneath the horizon, the world does not suddenly become wicked. Our surroundings have changed, certainly, but the ethical nature of existence has not. This raises a question I believe deserves greater consideration: have we come to associate darkness with evil because of what darkness actually represents or because humanity has spent centuries fearing what it cannot see?
From a metaphysical perspective, I consider light and darkness to be two sides of the same coin particularly when examining existence through the concept of oneness. Although darkness is physically understood through the absence or obstruction of light, their relationship becomes more interesting when viewed beyond their literal definitions. A shadow requires an interruption of illumination, just as the difference between day and night arises through the relationship between the Earth and the Sun. Neither condition exists to demonstrate moral superiority over the other. Within the philosophy of oneness, what appears separate or contradictory may still belong to the same greater existence. However, this does not mean that every opposition must represent two equally justified forces nor does it suggest that goodness and evil must exist in equal proportions to maintain some universal balance. I find that spiritual interpretations sometimes confuse interconnectedness with moral equivalence. The existence of two contrasting conditions does not automatically make their meanings interchangeable. Light and darkness may share a relationship within the same reality but the moral values humanity attaches to them remain interpretations. Nature has no obligation to organise itself according to our preferences for goodness, purity or enlightenment. For me, understanding how different aspects of reality belong to the same existence is a separate question from deciding how human beings ought to conduct themselves within it.
I also find the human relationship with the unknown relevant to this discussion particularly because it reveals how easily our interpretations can become moral judgements. Darkness limits our visual awareness, thus, leaving us to interpret our surroundings through incomplete information. It is understandable that such uncertainty can produce fear, especially when there may be legitimate reasons for caution. Nevertheless, fear can become problematic when it develops into an unquestioned belief about the nature of something unfamiliar. This is especially evident within esoteric and occult discussions where black mirrors, nocturnal rituals, underworld symbolism and unfamiliar spiritual practices are sometimes condemned before their actual meanings or purposes have been examined. A symbol associated with death, for example, may represent transformation, remembrance or the impermanence of physical existence without celebrating suffering or violence. Equally, an unfamiliar ritual does not become harmless simply because someone presents it as sacred. What interests me is how quickly human judgement can move from uncertainty to condemnation without passing through understanding. We may not know what something represents yet we behave as though our discomfort has already provided the answer. There is a considerable difference between approaching the unknown with caution and declaring it malevolent because we lack the knowledge to interpret it.
However, my understanding of oneness does not mean that everything within existence should be accepted without ethical examination. This is where I draw a firm boundary. Cruelty, exploitation, coercion, abuse and deliberate violations of another being’s autonomy do not become acceptable simply because someone describes them as necessary expressions of darkness, spiritual transformation or universal balance. Their existence within a greater reality does not excuse the suffering they cause. Likewise, the language of duality should never be used to suggest that harmful actions are justified because goodness supposedly requires an opposing evil. Such reasoning transforms a metaphysical concept into a convenient defence of unethical behaviour. To acknowledge that something exists is not to grant it moral permission. I believe this is particularly important in spiritual practices where claims of hidden knowledge, divine instruction or supernatural authority can sometimes discourage individuals from questioning what they are being asked to do. No amount of symbolism can replace consent, accountability or responsibility for the consequences of one’s actions. A practice that deliberately harms others deserves ethical scrutiny regardless of the spiritual tradition, imagery or philosophical explanation attached to it.
Interestingly, our admiration of light deserves the same level of scrutiny. Spiritual communities sometimes associate radiance, purity, positive vibrations and enlightenment with benevolence, thereby creating an impression that anything presented through these qualities must be trustworthy. Yet appearances have never been reliable evidence of moral integrity. An individual may speak eloquently about compassion while behaving cruelly towards others, just as a spiritual message may appear comforting while encouraging fear, dependency or unquestioning obedience. In contrast, a practice involving darker symbolism may be entirely contemplative, symbolic or harmless. The difficulty arises when we allow aesthetic preferences to replace ethical examination. I would question the intentions and conduct of a supposedly enlightened figure just as readily as those of someone working with unfamiliar occult traditions. Does the practice respect personal autonomy? Does it encourage understanding or demand obedience? Are people permitted to question its claims without being threatened or manipulated? These considerations reveal considerably more about ethical conduct than whether a candle is white or black, if a ritual occurs during daylight or if someone claims to work exclusively with light. Spiritual appearances may influence our first impressions but they should never be granted authority over our judgement.
All-in-all, I do not believe darkness requires redemption nor do I believe light deserves automatic reverence. Both exist beyond the moral categories humanity has constructed around them and neither possesses the capacity to determine whether someone behaves ethically. The philosophy of oneness encourages me to consider how different aspects of existence remain connected but it does not require me to abandon judgement when genuine harm is involved. If anything, understanding interconnectedness should encourage greater awareness of how our actions affect others. Perhaps humanity’s fear of darkness has persisted partly because assigning evil to something unseen is easier than confronting the complexity of morality itself. It provides a convenient image for wrongdoing by allowing us to imagine that what is good must always be outwardly visible, reassuring and familiar. Yet history offers countless reasons to question such assumptions. Harm can occur beneath the brightest light, just as kindness can exist in places we have been taught to fear. I would argue that the greater spiritual responsibility is not to choose between light and darkness but to examine what we have allowed those symbols to conceal about our own judgement. Darkness is not a moral failure while light is not a moral achievement. Neither can absolve an individual of responsibility. Morality begins where intention becomes conduct where choices affect other beings and where we must answer for what we do regardless of which side of the coin we claim to represent.
