Justice Addiction and the Power of Forgiveness
Twitter… what a mess. Outrage had been normalized. Text-based attacks and retribution lead to extreme polarization, all from the fingertips of those who hold the pursuit of “justice” as a moral north star.
I deleted Twitter, noting that there was little justice, from my perspective. Instead, it had become a flood of angry, self-righteous, incomplete ideas. I could feel my blood pressure rise every time I logged on. Enough was enough.
Then I redownloaded it… it’s a common story.
Screen addiction is part of the problem, of course (Khan et al., 2024). But it was more than that – I was intrigued by the banter, the communal desire for “justice” which plays out in offensive but interesting ways. Look around. The phenomenon is not limited to screens.
It can be seen every time a driver lays on the horn because a fellow motorist is “driving like an idiot”. One person is right, the other is wrong, and the one who is right is compelled to correct the situation. It seems noble, the pursuit of justice. But in the way “perfectionism” is a generous description of obsessive compulsion. The desire for justice is not always as pure as we believe.
Over time, the relentless quest to right wrongs can morph into a kind of addiction. A neurochemical loop is fueled by rage, righteousness, and – as James Kimmel Jr. of Yale University describes it – revenge.
Kimmel’s concept of “justice addiction” invites us to reexamine our inner lives with a level of honesty that can be unnerving. Drawing from neuroscience, trauma studies, and legal practice, he argues that seeking moral vindication can become a compulsive behavior. Just as with substance use, we can crave the “high” of feeling morally superior or victorious, particularly when it follows the experience of being hurt or wronged.
“Seeking moral vindication can become a compulsive behavior. Just as with substance use, we can crave the “high” of feeling morally superior or victorious.”
But this high is fleeting. And over time, the repeated pursuit of punitive justice can leave us depleted, bitter, and more wounded than before. What begins as a search for resolution may end in a cycle of escalating harm. The Twitter trolls don’t stop. They find another issue and attack it.
This is not an article about Twitter. It is intended to shine a light on a challenging disposition that, once we are aware of it, we might find all around us (and possibly, within).
The Neurochemistry of Justice and Revenge
“My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die.” Have you seen the Princess Bride? The Montoya character is easy identify with, the audience roots for him. In less dramatic circumstances, we’ve all been there. Revenge is pursued with the hope that it will “set things right.” But Kimmel and other psychologists have found that revenge frequently fails to deliver the satisfaction it promises.
Psychological studies show that revenge can prolong negative emotions, increase rumination, and deepen feelings of victimhood (Berry et al., 2005). Rather than resolving the original hurt, it often intensifies the mental and emotional attachment to the offender. This helps explain why people who engage in retributive actions eventually find themselves angrier and more distressed, not less.
Moral vindication activates the brain’s dopaminergic reward system (De Quervain et al., 2004), which is the same system involved in substance abuse, gambling, and other addictions (Arias-Carrión et al., 2010). In the modern podcast age, references to dopamine are overused and, often, under-understood. Uniquely, Kimmel and his team have noted that it is not only the neurochemical, but the pathways and systems of travel, that liken it to addiction. This understanding is helpful in the development of interventions to revenge and the presentation of its most heinous form, violence (Kimmel & Rowe, 2020). To redirect neural activity, it has to be understood.
Injustice and insult register as injury. The nervous system is aroused, and one begins scanning for threats and solutions. This process is natural and fundamental. Where did the injury come from? How can the pain be stopped? In the case of perceived injustice, retributive acts, such as verbally or physically punishing an offender, momentarily relieve that tension. This creates a satisfying emotional release. It feels good when justice is served. But it’s temporary.
“Injustice and insult register as injury... it feels good when justice is served. But its temporary.”
This is where the addictive dynamic begins. Much like taking a painkiller, the relief will not last. The unresolved pain underneath – the original injury, shame, or historical trauma – remains. The pain comes back. Another “painkiller” seems like an effective solution. Over time, one may begin to seek out new targets or injustices to resolve, chasing the same neurochemical payoff. Slights are felt more often. Justice, more often pursued. This string of payoffs is not the same as healing. It is not true resolution.
And so we understand the floods of argument on social media or obsessive legal disputes. Or the friend who cannot forget the time, years ago, they were not invited to the 4th of July barbeque and thereafter notices frequent missteps by the person who did not invite them. They become magnetized to the missteps of the person who wronged them.
The pain is real. After pain, it is natural to crave understanding and control – the opposite of course would be confusion and unrest. Holding someone else responsible for the pain one endures is easier than carrying that weight solely on their shoulders. Until they discover that punishing the other person does not always bring relief.
This is not to suggest that people obsessively pursuing justice have not been wronged. Of course, that will happen. But it would be wise to recognize when they are attempting to ease unresolved emotional pain with an understandable but misguided pursuit of control.
Once that uncomfortable recognition has been made, one finds that there are other, healthier, paths to resolution.
Forgiveness as a Healing Practice
If revenge and justice addiction offer only temporary relief, what provides genuine healing? There is not one absolute answer to this, of course. Humans are infinitely complex, as are their histories, so effective healing practices are varied. One possible answer, suggested by Kimmel and a growing body of psychological research, lies in the practice of forgiveness. It feels like wisdom passed down from a grandmother. Turns out, it is effective.
Forgiveness is not about excusing or forgetting wrongdoing. Nor is it about denying justice or enabling harm. Rather, forgiveness is a conscious, often difficult, internal process that allows a person to release their emotional dependency on the actions of another. It is the act of severing the tie that binds one to the original wound. It’s heavy.
“Forgiveness is not about excusing or forgetting wrongdoing... but a process that allows a person to release their emotional dependency on the actions of another.”
Studies have demonstrated that forgiveness has profound mental and physical health benefits (Worthington et al., 2006; Enright, 1996). People who practice forgiveness report lower levels of anxiety, depression, and anger, and experience reduced blood pressure, improved immune function, and better sleep. In fact, forgiveness interventions have been successfully used in treating veterans with PTSD and survivors of abuse (Witvliet, 2004; Reed & Enright, 2006).
Forgiveness, in this sense, becomes a form of self-liberation. It breaks the cycle of justice addiction by removing the emotional payoff of revenge and replacing it with something deeper: peace.
Forgiveness, when properly understood, is not weakness, but strength. It is not passivity… it is a demonstration of agency. In fact, in Kimmel’s therapeutic work with clients obsessed with revenge, he finds that the most healing moments come when individuals reclaim their inner power by letting go – not because the offender deserves it, but because the forgiver does.
This reframing allows forgiveness to coexist with justice, rather than replace it. A victim can forgive while still seeking accountability. A community can promote healing while also upholding consequences. The key distinction is intent: justice, when pursued with the goal of healing and restoration, differs profoundly from justice sought for the thrill of retribution.
This approach acknowledges that human beings are not just legal actors, but emotional and relational beings, capable of growth, accountability, and grace.
A Personal Reflection
I have been studying and writing through these ideas mostly for my clients. There are many who fight the battle of numerous (and continuous) slights. The work of Kimmel and his contemporaries has informed conversations and interventions aimed at helping people recognize that perhaps the world is not against them – that although they are struggling, there is peace within the storm, if they know where to begin looking. That place, often, is within.
While guiding people through this process – which has proven to be empowering – I uncovered some opportunities to work on myself. What I noticed was that there are a handful of moments in my past that I thought I was “over”. While I do not outwardly seek revenge, but I occasionally pursue something akin to justice. For certain situations, I still believe it is appropriate. But unconsciously, certain people and situations will activate my nervous system and put me on edge. In those moments, I can be uncharacteristically ready to put someone in their place, most often in the form of fact-checking.
The good news is, once you see it, there is something to do about it. Feel free to REACH OUT for strategies.
Finally, we all deserve to live in a just world – or at least, one which aims in that direction. Often, the most effective path to justice would include charting a course in a steady, responsive state, rather than a reactive one. Bring awareness to the issue, work to understand it, then make an intentional decision. The work will not always be easy, but it will certainly be worth it.
References
Arias-Carrión, Ó., Stamelou, M., Murillo-Rodríguez, E., Menéndez-González, M., & Pöppel, E. (2010). Dopaminergic reward system: A short integrative review. International Archives of Medicine, 3, 24. https://doi.org/10.1186/1755-7682-3-24
Berry, J. W., Worthington, E. L., Jr, O'Connor, L. E., Parrott, L., 3rd, & Wade, N. G. (2005). Forgivingness, vengeful rumination, and affective traits. Journal of personality, 73(1), 183–225. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-6494.2004.00308.x
De Quervain, D. J.‑F., Fischbacher, U., Treyer, V., & Fehr, E. (2004). The neural basis of altruistic punishment. Science, 305(5688), 1254–1258. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1100735
Enright, R. D. (1996). Counseling within the forgiveness triad: On forgiving, receiving forgiveness, and self-forgiveness. Counseling and Values, 40(2), 107–126. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.2161-007x.1996.tb00844.x
Khan, F. A., Alnaher, S., Ismail, M., Zalmay , A. K., & Zeshan, M. (2024). Addicted to Pixels: Understanding Screen Addiction and Strategies for Prevention. Journal of Sociology, Psychology & Religious Studies, 6(1), 58–74. https://doi.org/10.53819/81018102t7019
Kimmel, J., & Rowe, M. (2020). A Behavioral Addiction Model of Revenge, Violence, and Gun Abuse. Journal of Law, Medicine & Ethics, 48(S4), 172–178. doi:10.1177/1073110520979419
Reed, G. L., & Enright, R. D. (2006). The effects of forgiveness therapy on depression, anxiety, and posttraumatic stress for women after spousal emotional abuse. Journal of consulting and clinical psychology, 74(5), 920–929. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-006X.74.5.920
Witvliet, C. V. O., Phillips, K. A., Feldman, M. E., & Beckham, J. C. (2004). Posttraumatic mental and physical health correlates of forgiveness and religious coping in military veterans. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 17(3), 269–273. https://doi.org/10.1023/B:JOTS.0000029270.47848.e5
Worthington, E. L., Scherer, M., & Cooke, K. L. (2006). Forgiveness in the Treatment of Persons with Alcohol Problems. Alcoholism Treatment Quarterly, 24(1–2), 125–145. https://doi.org/10.1300/J020v24n01_08