When Good People Do Harm

Moral disengagement in high-conflict divorce — and how Bandura's theory explains the psychological machinery behind escalating conflict, blame, and destructive co-parenting

Almost no one going through a bad divorce thinks of themselves as the aggressor, even while the party on the other side might claim otherwise. Psychologist Albert Bandura's theory of moral disengagement explains how that's possible — and offers a way out.

High-conflict divorce is often described as a problem of anger, poor communication, personality differences, or an inability to "move on." Those explanations can be useful, but they often miss something deeper. In many of the most difficult divorces, the central problem is not simply that one or both parents are angry. It is that the psychological mechanisms that ordinarily restrain harmful behavior begin to break down.

A parent may say, "I would never hurt my child," and genuinely believe it. Yet, in an extreme example, that same parent may repeatedly undermine the other parent, coach the children, exaggerate allegations, withhold information, interfere with parenting time, or use litigation as a weapon. How can someone engage in behavior that appears inconsistent with their own moral values while continuing to see themselves as a good person?

Psychologist Albert Bandura offers an important answer. His theory of moral disengagement describes the psychological processes through which people can deactivate the self-regulatory mechanisms that normally prevent them from behaving in ways that violate their own moral standards. This framework is particularly useful in understanding high-conflict divorce because divorce creates an environment in which moral disengagement can become remarkably easy. The former spouse becomes an adversary. The adversary becomes dangerous to them or their child. Dangerous people must be stopped. And once the other parent is perceived as sufficiently bad, almost anything done against them can begin to feel justified.  This can happen at the most obvious of levels, and subtly.  

The moral problem of divorce

Most people enter marriage with a reasonably coherent moral identity. They want to be good spouses, good parents, and fair partners. They generally do not think of themselves as people who manipulate, deceive, retaliate, or deliberately harm others.

Divorce can destabilize that identity. A person who once experienced their spouse as a loved partner may eventually experience that same person as a threat, betrayer, narcissist, abuser, or liar. This creates a psychological dilemma: if I am a good person, and this person is terrible, then whatever I do to protect myself and my children from this person must also be morally acceptable. That is where moral disengagement can begin.

Bandura identified several mechanisms through which people morally disengage from their own behavior. These mechanisms do not necessarily require a person to become consciously dishonest. In fact, one of the most troubling aspects of moral disengagement is that people can come to sincerely believe the explanations they construct for their behavior.

1. Moral justification: "I'm doing this for the children"

Perhaps the most powerful mechanism in high-conflict divorce is moral justification. Behavior that would ordinarily be considered wrong becomes reframed as serving a morally worthy purpose. The parent isn't interfering with the other parent's relationship with the children — they are protecting the children. They aren't withholding information — they are preventing the other parent from manipulating the situation. They aren't making excessive accusations — they are advocating for their children's safety. They aren't refusing to cooperate — they are holding boundaries.

The moral language changes the psychological meaning of the behavior. Consider two descriptions of the same action: "I am preventing my child's father [or mother] from seeing the child," versus "I am protecting my child from a dangerous father [or mother]." The second formulation does something psychologically important — it transforms the actor from aggressor into protector. That distinction matters because people are much more comfortable engaging in harmful behavior when they believe that behavior serves a higher moral purpose. And divorce provides an extraordinarily powerful justification: the children.

Once a parent comes to believe that the other parent is harmful to the children, actions that would otherwise violate their own standards can become morally permissible. The question therefore becomes not simply "What am I doing?" but "What story am I telling myself about why I am doing it?"

2. Euphemistic labeling: Changing the language changes the behavior

Another mechanism is euphemistic labeling. People experience their behavior differently depending on what they call it. "Manipulation" becomes "strategic communication." "Interfering with parenting time" becomes "following the child's wishes." "Retaliation" becomes "holding someone accountable." "Punishment" becomes "consequences." "Controlling access to the child" becomes "protective parenting." "Recruiting the child into the conflict" becomes "being honest with the child." "Refusing to communicate" becomes "maintaining boundaries." "Attacking the other parent" becomes "advocating."

The terminology matters because language can obscure the behavioral reality. A parent can therefore engage in increasingly destructive behavior without experiencing themselves as increasingly destructive — the behavior becomes morally sanitized.

3. Advantageous comparison: "Look what they did"

Bandura also identified advantageous comparison, in which the individual compares their behavior with something perceived as worse, allowing them to conclude, "What I did wasn't really that bad." In divorce, this mechanism can become extremely powerful. A parent may think, "Yes, I sent that angry message, but look at what she did." Or, "I told the children about the affair, but he destroyed our family." Or, "I withheld the information because she has lied repeatedly." Or, "I filed another motion because he won't listen."

The comparison shifts the moral focus. Instead of asking, "Was my behavior appropriate?" the person asks, "Was my behavior as bad as theirs?" That is a very different moral standard. And once divorce becomes a contest between competing wrongdoing, each person's behavior can progressively escalate: one parent retaliates, the other retaliates against the retaliation, and the first parent now feels justified in escalating further. Soon, both parties can experience themselves as primarily defensive.

The more morally certain people become about the badness of the other parent, the easier it becomes to justify behavior that would otherwise violate their own standards.

4. Displacement of responsibility: "The court made me do it"

Moral disengagement can also occur through displacement of responsibility, in which the individual attributes their behavior to an authority, circumstance, or external necessity. In high-conflict divorce, this can take many forms: "My attorney told me to do it." "The evaluator recommended it." "The court required it." "My therapist said I needed to protect myself." "I had no choice." "If I didn't do it, nobody would protect my child."

The person no longer experiences themselves as the author of the behavior — they become an instrument of circumstances. This is particularly important in prolonged litigation, where a parent may gradually outsource moral responsibility to attorneys, therapists, experts, family members, or the legal system. But professional involvement does not eliminate personal responsibility. A lawyer may recommend a legal strategy, a therapist may recommend a boundary, an evaluator may express a concern, and a judge may issue an order — but the individual remains responsible for how they treat other human beings within those circumstances.

5. Diffusion of responsibility: "Everyone agrees"

A related mechanism is diffusion of responsibility, in which responsibility becomes distributed across a group. The parent may hear the same narrative repeated by friends, family members, attorneys, therapists, online communities, social media, support groups, and sometimes professionals. Eventually the belief acquires the appearance of consensus. The parent thinks, "It's not just me who sees this. Everyone sees it." The social environment becomes an echo chamber, and once a person's interpretation of events is repeatedly validated, contradictory evidence becomes increasingly difficult to tolerate.

This creates a dangerous feedback loop: belief leads to social validation, which leads to increased certainty, which leads to more extreme behavior, which leads to additional justification for the original belief. The person becomes increasingly convinced that their behavior is necessary precisely because they have surrounded themselves with people who confirm the narrative that made the behavior seem necessary.

6. Distortion of consequences: "The child will be fine"

Bandura also described the minimization, distortion, or disregard of consequences. In divorce, the consequences of harmful behavior are often psychologically distant. A parent may not see the child's anxiety at bedtime, may not witness the child's internal conflict after hearing negative information about the other parent, and may not recognize that the child has begun censoring what they say. Instead, they see only the immediate benefit as it is filtered through their own lens or biases: "My child is anxious about the parent," or "My child doesn't have to be around someone dangerous."

The long-term consequences — anxiety, divided loyalties, loss of trust, damaged relationships, emotional insecurity — may remain invisible. This is one reason children can become the unintended casualties of adult moral disengagement: the behavior may produce immediate relief for the parent while producing long-term psychological costs for the child.

7. Dehumanization: When the ex-spouse stops being a person

Perhaps the most profound mechanism is dehumanization. The former spouse gradually stops being experienced as a complex human being and becomes a category: "She's a narcissist." "He's a psychopath." "She is toxic." "He's an abuser." "She is alienating." "He's a deadbeat." "She is crazy." "He doesn't care about the children." The label begins to replace the person.

Once someone has been reduced to a pathological category, empathy becomes much harder, and when empathy decreases, moral restraints can weaken. The former spouse's suffering no longer feels morally significant. Their motives are presumed malicious. Their mistakes become evidence of character. Their positive behavior becomes manipulation. Their explanations become excuses. Their attempts to repair the relationship become strategic. Their distress becomes proof of instability.

Everything begins to fit the narrative. At that point, the former spouse is no longer perceived as someone with whom the individual has a conflict — they are perceived as the conflict itself.

8. Blaming the victim: "They brought this on themselves"

The final mechanism is perhaps the most psychologically consequential: victim blaming. The individual comes to believe that the other person's suffering is the natural consequence of their own behavior. "If they hadn't cheated, none of this would have happened." "If he would just cooperate, I wouldn't have to take these measures." "If she were a better parent, the child wouldn't reject her." "He created this situation."

This creates a closed moral system. Whatever happens to the other parent becomes evidence that the other parent deserves what is happening. The individual no longer needs to ask whether their behavior is proportionate, ethical, or constructive — the victim's supposed wrongdoing becomes the justification for the response.

The escalation cycle

When these mechanisms interact, a particularly destructive cycle can emerge. It often looks something like this: injury leads to threat perception, which leads to negative attribution, which leads to moral justification, which leads to harmful behavior, which leads to retaliation, which leads to further injury, which leads to stronger justification.

In other words, each person's behavior becomes evidence for the other's narrative. One parent thinks, "I had to protect myself because of what she did." The other thinks, "I had to protect myself because of what he did." Both may sincerely experience themselves as the victim. Because each person's behavior becomes evidence supporting the other's perceived dangerousness, the conflict can become self-reinforcing. This is one reason high-conflict divorce can become extraordinarily difficult to resolve — the conflict is no longer simply about the original events, but about the moral identity of the participants.

The child can become the battleground for moral identity

This is where the problem becomes particularly serious. Children can become incorporated into the parent's moral narrative. The child is no longer simply a child caught between two parents — the child becomes the witness, the ally, the protector, the messenger, the source of evidence, or even the judge.

The child may be told, or indirectly encouraged to conclude, that choosing one parent is an act of loyalty. This creates an impossible psychological position: the child may love both parents while simultaneously believing that loving one parent betrays the other. The parent may believe, "I'm helping my child understand what is happening." But the child may experience, "I have to take sides." That distinction is crucial.

Moral disengagement is not synonymous with intentional malice

There is an important caution here. Bandura's theory does not require us to conclude that people who engage in harmful behavior are evil, pathological, or consciously manipulative. That would actually miss the point. Moral disengagement is powerful precisely because it can operate in ordinary people. A person can have sincerely held moral values and still find ways to temporarily suspend those values when confronted with fear, betrayal, humiliation, anger, or perceived injustice.

The relevant question is therefore not "Is this person a bad person?" A much more productive question is: "What psychological processes are allowing this person to engage in harmful behavior as morally justified?" That question opens the possibility of change.

Re-engaging morality

If moral disengagement helps explain escalation, then moral re-engagement offers a pathway out. The goal is not simply to tell parents to stop fighting — it is to restore the psychological connection between behavior and moral responsibility. Several questions can help:

1. What would I call this behavior if my former spouse were doing it? This is one of the simplest ways to expose euphemistic labeling and double standards.

2. Would I want my child to learn this behavior from me? Children learn morality not only from what parents tell them but from what parents demonstrate.

3. Am I protecting my child, or protecting my identity as the good parent? This can be an uncomfortable question. Sometimes the parent's behavior is partly motivated by the need to maintain a particular self-image.

4. What evidence would change my mind? If no evidence could ever contradict the narrative, the issue may no longer be ordinary reasoning.

5. Can I distinguish danger from dislike? A former spouse can be selfish, difficult, insensitive, unfaithful, frustrating, or deeply disappointing without necessarily being dangerous to the child.

6. Am I responding to behavior, or to my story about the person? This distinction can be transformative. Instead of "He's a narcissist," consider "He sent three hostile messages this week." The first is an identity judgment; the second is an observable behavior.

7. What responsibility belongs to me? Even when the other parent has behaved badly, each person retains responsibility for their own conduct.

The antidote: moral clarity without moral warfare

Healthy post-divorce functioning does not require parents to agree about the past. They may never agree. One may believe the other betrayed them; the other may believe they were unfairly treated. Both may have legitimate grievances. But successful co-parenting requires something more fundamental than agreement — it requires moral boundaries around one's own behavior.

A parent can say, "I believe my former spouse behaved terribly, and I am still going to behave morally." That is moral agency. It means refusing to allow another person's behavior to determine one's own character. It means recognizing that their conduct is theirs, and my conduct is mine. And perhaps most importantly, my child does not need to become the instrument through which I settle my moral dispute with their other parent.

The deeper lesson

Bandura's theory gives us a useful way of understanding one of the paradoxes of high-conflict divorce: the more morally certain people become about the problems of the other parent, the easier it can become for them to justify behavior that would otherwise violate their own moral standards.

That does not mean every accusation is false. It does not mean abuse does not occur, or that parents should ignore genuine safety concerns. And it certainly does not mean every high-conflict divorce is symmetrical. There are cases where protective parenting is critical, orders are necessary, and a parent can certainly be a danger to their child in need of limitations.  

Rather, moral disengagement, as used here, gives us a framework for asking a different question: what happens when the belief that I am protecting my child becomes so powerful that the reality behind the image I carry of my co-parent gets lost and almost anything I do can be justified in the name of the child?

That is an open question worthy of curiosity.  

*This article was generated by with the help of AI, and fact-checked/curated by a human editor