The Lies of Karma is an essay that questions the comforting idea that justice always finds its way. It was inspired by repeated moments where people responded to real-world tragedies with phrases like “what goes around, comes around,” or flooded comment sections with prayer emojis, as if those gestures carried weight. Watching injustice unfold in history, in current events, and in personal conversations, I realized how deeply people rely on karmic thinking to avoid discomfort or responsibility.
This piece is not meant to attack faith or belief. It challenges the habit of waiting for wrongdoers to be punished by the universe instead of holding them accountable ourselves. Karma, as it is often used, becomes a story we repeat to make peace with injustice. But justice does not arrive by itself. If anything, karma gives people an excuse to stay quiet.
I wrote this for readers who are starting to question that narrative. For those who see the patterns and feel the same frustration I do. And for anyone who knows that wishing for fairness is not enough. Justice is something we must create.
The Lies of Karma: When the Wicked Win and the Good Die Forgotten
"What goes around, comes around."
It’s a phrase we whisper when justice fails us. A way to ease the sting of watching bad people succeed. As humans, we want to believe the universe has a system. A kind of moral accounting where evil pays a price and goodness gets rewarded. We cling to that belief because the alternative is unbearable: that sometimes, cruelty wins, that the worst people die rich, and that the kindest are buried young.
We want karma to be real. We want a force out there keeping score, punishing the wicked, and lifting the innocent. But history tells another story; one soaked in blood, betrayal, and silence. The powerful exploit, oppress, and kill, and still get statues, book deals, or national holidays. No higher force intervenes. No cosmic hand reaches down. There is no balancing of the scales.
What we’re left with is a lie that feels good. But this essay isn’t here to comfort you. It’s here to burn that lie down.
The Prosperity of the Wicked
Time and again, history shows us that those who commit terrible acts often enjoy lives of power and privilege. Take King Leopold II of Belgium, who ruled from 1865 to 1909 and oversaw the brutal exploitation of the Congo Free State. Millions of Congolese people were enslaved, mutilated, or killed under his rubber production regime. He never faced trial or disgrace. Instead, he died wealthy, celebrated by his nation, and buried with full royal honors. Though activists exposed his crimes near the end of his life, he still died with wealth, royal status, and a state funeral. The true public reckoning came long after his death.
Then there’s Christopher Columbus (1451–1506), often hailed as the heroic “discoverer” of America. In truth, his voyages launched centuries of colonization, enslavement, and genocide against Indigenous peoples. As governor of the Indies, Columbus personally imposed brutal forced labor systems and oversaw atrocities that decimated native populations. Yet he died honored by the Spanish crown, and for centuries his name was celebrated.
Cecil Rhodes (1853–1902), a British imperialist and mining magnate, played a key role in colonizing southern Africa and laying the groundwork for apartheid. As Prime Minister of the Cape Colony (1890–1896), he promoted white supremacy, displaced entire communities, and built his fortune through exploitation. He died immensely wealthy and is still commemorated through institutions like the Rhodes Scholarship, despite growing criticism of his legacy.
And let’s not also forget about Hernán Cortés (1485–1547), the Spanish conquistador who led the conquest of the Aztec Empire from 1519 to 1521. He used deception, manipulation, and overwhelming violence to dismantle one of the most advanced civilizations of the time. In return, he was granted noble titles, land, and a lasting place in European historical narratives as a “heroic explorer.”
These men died rich, praised, and powerful. They weren’t punished. They prospered. Their actions, though devastating, did not lead to their downfall in any earthly sense.
The Suffering of the Good
But where there is evil, there is also good. Too often, though, the good suffer while the wicked flourish. You’ve probably heard the phrase, “Only the good die young.” The Greek historian Herodotus said it first in 445 B.C., and Billy Joel turned it into a pop anthem centuries later. But why? Why is it that the most courageous, honest, and compassionate among us are the ones who are silenced earliest, while tyrants die of old age in luxury?
Take Sophie Scholl (1921–1943), a German student and anti-Nazi activist. At just 21 years old, she and her brother Hans were executed by guillotine for distributing anti-regime leaflets as part of the White Rose resistance. She became a symbol of peaceful defiance after death, but she never got to witness the impact her courage would have on post-war Germany.
Martin Luther King Jr. (1929–1968), a Baptist minister and civil rights leader, was only 39 when he was assassinated for leading nonviolent resistance against racial segregation and injustice in the United States. While parts of his dream have been realized through legislation and cultural progress, the full vision of racial and economic justice remains unfinished.
Harriet Tubman (1822–1913) escaped slavery and then risked her life repeatedly to lead over 70 others to freedom via the Underground Railroad. She also served as a Union spy and nurse during the Civil War. Despite her heroism, she spent her later years in poverty, largely unrecognized and unsupported by the country she fought to improve.
And going further back in the 16th Century, Giordano Bruno (1548–1600), an Italian philosopher and former Dominican friar. He was one of the first to propose that the universe was infinite and filled with many worlds. For his radical ideas about cosmology and theology, he was declared a heretic and burned alive by the Roman Inquisition. His concepts later helped shape modern science, but he never lived to see them accepted.
These were people who stood for something greater, and they paid for it with their lives or their peace. Their sacrifices highlight a painful truth: goodness does not guarantee a good life, and often, it seems to invite the opposite.
If the wicked prosper and the good suffer, where does that leave the idea of cosmic justice?
The Illusion of Cosmic Justice
We honor the righteous and condemn the wicked, but when we examine their lives, the idea of karma feels completely absent. Some will argue that justice trickles down to the families of the guilty, that descendants “pay the price” for ancestral sins. But why them? Why not the ones who committed the harm directly? This notion of inherited punishment only further complicates the idea of a just universe.
The Role of Religion
In many religions, especially the Abrahamic faiths like Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, people are taught a version of the “Golden Rule”: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. There’s a widespread belief that good deeds bring blessings, and wrongdoing invites suffering. Over time, this often morphs into karma-like thinking, even though these faiths don’t actually teach karma as a cosmic law. On paper, it sounds fair. But who, exactly, is handing out these punishments and rewards?
While karma isn’t a core teaching in the Abrahamic traditions, similar ideas show up in different forms. Judaism teaches middah k’neged middah, “measure for measure,” where people are rewarded or punished by God. Christianity echoes this with “you reap what you sow,” and Islam emphasizes that every action, good or evil, is accounted for by Allah.
But here’s the difference: in these traditions, justice isn’t automatic or mechanical. It’s not the universe balancing itself; it’s God deciding. That means good people can still suffer. Evil people can still rise. Divine justice, if it comes at all, doesn’t always happen in this life. So when believers say “karma will catch up with them,” they’re not quoting scripture; they’re expressing hope. And hope, no matter how comforting, isn’t proof.
Karma, as a formal concept, is most directly rooted in Eastern religions, particularly Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism. In these traditions, karma is more than moral cause and effect; it’s a cosmic law tied to reincarnation. Your actions in this life determine your fate in the next. It’s not about instant payback; it’s an ongoing cycle of consequences that may unfold across many lifetimes. This concept of deferred consequences can be difficult to reconcile with our innate desire for immediate justice.
But even in these traditions, the idea of karma has been co-opted, commercialized, and flattened, especially in the West. Pop culture treats karma like a cosmic vending machine: good in, good out. But real karma isn’t clean or quick. It’s slow, complex, and often invisible. You might suffer in this life not because you did something wrong, but because of unresolved karma from another. That explanation may offer meaning to some, but it still fails to answer the deepest questions:
What about the people who do real evil and still win?
What about the innocent who suffer and die young?
This is where karmic thinking becomes dangerous. When people use karma to explain away suffering, it stops being a belief in justice and becomes a tool for blaming the victim.
The Harm of Victim-Blaming
One of the most disturbing effects of karmic thinking is how easily it turns suffering into personal failure. If someone experiences poverty, illness, abuse, or tragedy, it’s not uncommon, especially in spiritual or New Age circles, to hear that it’s the result of their “bad energy,” “past-life karma,” or “soul contract.” It sounds spiritual, but it’s just a way of avoiding discomfort. It lets people detach from others’ pain and hold onto the illusion that the world is fair. Instead of confronting injustice, karmic logic explains it away. It reframes systemic issues such as oppression, war, generational trauma as moral consequences. It says: “They must’ve deserved this somehow.”
As philosopher Mikel Burley notes, retributive interpretations of karma can encourage unjustified victim-blaming, diminishing empathy and sidestepping systemic causes of suffering.¹
A recent psychological study also found that reminders of karma increased people’s tendency to withhold generosity and compassion because they assumed the victim somehow earned their misfortune.²
That’s not enlightenment. That’s abandonment dressed up as wisdom. Using karma to explain away suffering absolves us of responsibility. It allows us to ignore the very real injustices that shape our world.
The Absence of Cosmic Intervention
If a higher power were enforcing justice, we’d see it. Evil would fall publicly. The cruel would be punished in front of the world. Instead, the opposite happens: abusers rise, murderers reign, and everyone else watches.
Many believers try to fix this contradiction with the afterlife: the wicked may thrive now, but they’ll suffer later. But what do you say to someone who doesn’t believe in heaven or hell? Or someone who used to, and now sees no evidence of divine fairness? Telling them “they’ll get theirs in the next life” isn’t comfort; it’s a dismissal. And for someone who has already suffered, it can feel like insult layered on top of injury. The promise of future retribution does little to alleviate present pain or rectify past wrongs.
The Messy Reality of Justice
Some people cling to the idea of karma by pointing to figures who did meet violent ends like Benito Mussolini (1883 – 1945), for example. He committed colonial atrocities in Africa and aligned with Hitler during World War II. After Italy fell, he tried to escape but was captured and executed by partisans. His body was hung in public. Poetic, yes, but was that karma? Or was it rage? Mob justice at the right place, at the right time?
Then there’s Nicolae Ceaușescu (1918 – 1989), the communist dictator of Romania who drove his country into repression and economic collapse. In 1989, after years of suffering, the people revolted. He and his wife were captured, hastily tried, and executed on live television. Karma? Or a revolution that finally boiled over?
Even more recent is Jeffrey Epstein (1953 – 2019), the financier and predator who trafficked minors for the world’s elite. He died in jail before facing trial, officially ruled a suicide. But his death robbed victims of accountability. The full truth never came out. So again, is it karma, or a system protecting itself through silence?
These aren’t signs of a moral universe correcting itself. They’re messy, human, and often incomplete. Justice, when it comes at all, rarely comes cleanly. It’s often the result of human action, not cosmic decree.
A Call to Action
Karma is a story we tell ourselves to feel better. It’s nothing but a bedtime fable for grown-ups who can’t face how unfair the world really is. Believing that cosmic justice eventually finds the wicked might offer comfort, but it’s lazy thinking. It gives people permission to step back instead of stepping up, to wait for the universe to handle what society refuses to confront.
The truth is harsh: some of the worst people in history died safe, wealthy, and celebrated. And many of the best, those who resisted, who spoke out, who protected others, were punished, forgotten, or killed.
That’s not karma. That’s how power works when it goes unchecked.
If justice is going to happen, it has to be made by us, not by fate. Hoping for karma lets evil breathe. Holding it accountable takes effort, courage, and clarity. This essay doesn’t just argue that karma doesn’t exist; it demands that we stop waiting for it and start becoming what karma never was: the upholders of justice in a world that desperately needs it.
References
- Burley, M. (2013). Retributive karma and the problem of blaming the victim. International Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 74(2), 149–165. Link
- Kraus, S., Callan, M. J., & Ferguson, M. J. (2024). How Karma Harms and Helps Generosity Toward Those in Need. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin. Link
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