Remorse, Conscience, and Cultural Context in the Psychology of Perpetrators

The psychological toll of taking a human life, even under the veil of legality or ideology, has long been a subject of fascination and moral inquiry. In post-industrial societies, where justice systems are framed by Enlightenment ideals and human rights doctrines, the act of execution is often accompanied by solemn reflection and moral complexity. Executioners in these settings may struggle with psychological strain, moral ambivalence, or even trauma, particularly because their task is not routine and conflicts with broader cultural taboos against killing. Yet, history offers examples of individuals like Albert Pierrepoint or Johann Reichhart who appeared to take pride in their roles - whether as a professional duty or even, debatably, as a source of personal gratification.

This raises uncomfortable questions about the psychology of such individuals. Were they hardened pragmatists, compartmentalizing their actions as mere duties? Or were some of them, as in rare and extreme cases, guided by sadistic tendencies? The case of John C. Woods, the American military executioner at the Nuremberg Trials, adds to this ambiguity. Woods reportedly botched several hangings, causing prolonged suffering to the condemned Nazi leaders. Whether through incompetence or intentional cruelty, his demeanor and actions suggested not solemnity, but a disturbing detachment. His reported quip -"Ten men in 103 minutes. That’s not bad work" - clashes with the gravity of his role and underscores the complex interplay between justice and vengeance in postwar contexts.

Yet even in a regime as inhuman as Nazi Germany, we find numerous examples of perpetrators who later suffered deeply from their actions. Former SS men and members of Einsatzgruppen have been documented to experience post-traumatic stress, alcoholism, depression, and even suicide. Despite participating in industrial-scale murder, many did not escape unscathed. They were not always ideologues; often, they were ordinary men who found themselves swept into a moral abyss. Some tried to drown their guilt in drink; others lived with it in silence for decades. The faint but persistent voice of conscience, even if suppressed during the war, often reemerged when the ideological noise faded.

This phenomenon stands in stark contrast to more recent acts of mass violence rooted in modern extremist ideologies. The October 7, 2023, Hamas-led attack on Israeli civilians is a case in point. Here, the atrocities were not carried out in secrecy or with visible reluctance. Instead, they were broadcast with pride. Videos showed militants and, disturbingly, even ordinary Gazan citizens rejoicing over the deaths of innocents - men, women, children, and the elderly. The killings were not merely military operations; they were acts of slaughter, dehumanizing and symbolic, fueled by a deeply entrenched narrative of resistance and divine entitlement.

Unlike the postwar Germans who faced the moral wreckage of the Holocaust, there has been little indication of remorse or trauma among the perpetrators of the October 7 massacre. This reveals a stark divergence in the cultural and ideological frameworks that shape individual psychology. In Nazi Germany, remnants of Christian morality and European humanism, however diluted, still lingered. These left room for guilt and shame to emerge once the war ended. In contrast, the worldview propagated by extremist groups like Hamas leaves little space for moral ambiguity. It is rooted in absolutism -where the perceived enemy is not just to be defeated but annihilated, where martyrdom is glorified, and where the killing of civilians is reframed as sacred duty, not crime.

The absence of remorse in such contexts is not merely a reflection of individual pathology. It is a societal construct, reinforced by education, propaganda, and communal narratives. In such a setting, acts that would evoke horror elsewhere are reinterpreted as acts of righteousness or divine will. This obliteration of empathy is what makes modern ideological violence so chilling. It’s not just the brutality of the act - it’s the celebration of it.

Ultimately, the presence or absence of remorse reveals much about the cultural and moral environment from which perpetrators emerge. When an individual suffers after committing violence, it suggests the remnants of an internal moral compass. When they don’t, it suggests that the compass was never calibrated to begin with -or that it was violently overridden by ideology. The tragedy is not just in the killing, but in the erasure of the very capacity to feel that it was wrong.