I am really drawn to damaged characters, and I have a lot of

"I am really drawn to damaged characters, and I have a lot of sympathy for them. Making those complicated characters empathetic is something to strive for. It's too easy to create a good guy or a good girl." These words from Paul Haggis speak to the deep complexity of the human condition and the artist’s pursuit of capturing that complexity in storytelling. In a world where narratives often lean toward clear-cut good and evil, Haggis advocates for the more challenging path of creating characters who are flawed, broken, and, at times, even morally ambiguous. These are the characters who live in the gray areas of life—the ones who reflect the reality of human experience, where perfection is a myth and everyone bears the weight of their own imperfections.

To truly understand the significance of Haggis’s words, one must consider how the ancient philosophers viewed human nature. In Greek tragedy, characters were often portrayed as heroes with fatal flaws—Hubris, pride, or anger—that led to their downfall. These flaws were not merely characteristics but a reflection of the universal struggles of humanity. Take, for instance, the tragic figure of Oedipus in Sophocles' play Oedipus Rex. Oedipus is a man of great intellect and strength, a king revered by his people. Yet, his fatal flaw—his unrelenting pursuit of truth—leads to his self-destruction. He is not a simple villain; he is a tragic hero whose flaws make him relatable and sympathetic, despite the devastation he brings upon himself and his family. Haggis’s focus on damaged characters echoes this ancient tradition: it is through their flaws and vulnerabilities that we are able to empathize with them, to see parts of ourselves reflected in their struggles.

In modern storytelling, characters that are too "good" often feel unrealistic or one-dimensional. They lack the depth and resonance of flawed figures who, despite their weaknesses, continue to strive for meaning, redemption, and connection. Haggis’s work—particularly his films like Crash—illustrates this notion perfectly. In Crash, characters of different backgrounds, races, and social standings collide in a narrative that explores issues of race, prejudice, and personal guilt. The film’s characters are deeply flawed, some of them engaging in acts of racism or violence, yet Haggis still humanizes them, allowing the audience to feel sympathy for even the most despicable characters. This complexity forces the audience to confront the uncomfortable truth that everyone carries their own prejudices, insecurities, and brokenness, and that true empathy is born when we can see the humanity in others, even when they are far from perfect.

Consider the real-life example of Nelson Mandela, a man whose personal flaws—his early involvement in violent resistance, his anger at the injustice of apartheid—were transformed into a larger story of redemption and reconciliation. Mandela was not born a saint; he was a man who struggled with the same flaws that many of us have—anger, pride, and impatience—yet he used those weaknesses to fuel his fight for justice and equality. As he grew, Mandela learned to transcend his flaws and transform them into the tools of his leadership. His story is one of a damaged but deeply human character who was capable of change, and it is this very flaw and redemption that make him so compelling. Much like the characters Haggis creates, Mandela’s humanity is not defined by his perfection, but by his ability to grow from his struggles and rise above them for the good of others.

What Haggis emphasizes is that it is the struggles, the flaws, and the human vulnerability in his characters that make them both relatable and deeply moving. To create a "good guy" or "good girl" is a task that requires no great depth, for it is the perfectly virtuous character who often fails to teach us anything about the human experience. It is only when we look into the eyes of damaged characters—people who have made mistakes, who have fallen short of their ideals—that we see the potential for growth and redemption. The struggle of these characters to overcome their flaws and make meaning out of their lives is what truly makes their stories powerful.

The lesson in Haggis’s words is one of acceptance—acceptance of our own imperfections and the understanding that growth often comes from facing our flaws head-on. Just as Oedipus and Mandela did, we must come to terms with our own shortcomings and use them as stepping stones for personal development. In our relationships, in our work, and in our personal lives, we must understand that true empathy arises not from seeing others as flawless, but from recognizing the vulnerabilities and struggles that make them human. It is in embracing the complexity of those around us that we are able to build meaningful and lasting connections.

In practical terms, this means we must be honest with ourselves and others about our own flaws, acknowledging them as part of our humanity. We must also be willing to show compassion to those around us, recognizing that everyone carries their own burdens and makes their own mistakes. Empathy is not about seeing others as perfect, but about understanding their journey, their battles, and their potential for growth. By embracing the complexity of people—both in the stories we create and in the lives we lead—we open ourselves up to deeper, more authentic connections and a greater understanding of the world and those in it.