Rational Morality
The Rise of the Hollow Man
The next draft chapter in the upcoming book, “Rational Morality”. Comments are welcome. I’ll publish the final version through the usual book stores and channels when it's all been released online. Enjoy!
The modern world rewards appearances over substance. In nearly every institution, the person who rises is not always the one with the most integrity, competence, or courage. Increasingly, it is the person who knows how to say the right things, adopt the right posture, and reflect the dominant narrative without ever standing too firmly for anything. These are the hollow men (and women)—figures of ambition without conviction, self-interest without conscience, identity without character.
The hollow man is not a cartoon villain. He does not wear his corruption on his sleeve. He is, in fact, often charming, articulate, and outwardly successful. What makes him hollow is not his skills or intelligence, but the absence of anything within that cannot be bought, reshaped, or compromised. He believes in nothing that cannot be traded for advantage. He adapts effortlessly to whatever moral climate surrounds him, always calculating how to appear virtuous without actually being so.
The hollow man is a product of our time. Raised in systems that prioritize external validation over internal formation of values, he has been taught to perform rather than to become. From a young age, he learned that what matters most is being seen, being praised, being accepted—not telling the truth or doing what is right. In school, he was rewarded for parroting ideology. In university, he was taught to treat language as power and morality as a social construct. By the time he enters public life, he is fluent in the language of virtue but incapable of practicing it.
These men, and increasingly women too, rise quickly. They know how to navigate the shallow waters of corporate, political, and cultural life. They say what people want to hear. They avoid clear stances until the moment is safe. They posture as leaders while avoiding real leadership. And because they pose no threat to those in power, they are promoted, protected, and praised.
What they leave in their wake is confusion, instability, and decay. Under the leadership of hollow men, organizations lose their focus on their mission. Schools stop educating and spend their time indoctrinating. Churches stop preaching against sin and instead compromise their beliefs in order to welcome anyone who will come, along with the donations. Corporations seek to maximize profits over any semblance of public good. Governments grow bloated and ineffective, focused only on their internal growth and continuity, demanding ever more resources from the public like a cancer. And throughout it all, the hollow man smiles, speaks of progress, and congratulates himself for being “on the right side of history.”
But beneath the surface of their character, there is nothing. No core. No compass. No ability to withstand pressure, sacrifice for others, or challenge corruption. When tested, the hollow man either caves or disappears. He surrounds himself with like-minded people who will flatter him, shield him, and help protect the illusion. He resents those who speak plainly, because plain speech threatens to expose the emptiness of his own words. He avoids those with deep moral convictions because conviction cannot be manipulated.
This is not just a personal defect. It is a cultural disease. The rise of the hollow man is not accidental—it is systemic. It is the result of decades of moral retreat. We have built systems that no longer select for integrity, that no longer demand virtue, and that no longer punish deceit unless it becomes inconvenient. The result is predictable: hollow men in high places, admired by people too exhausted, too distracted, or too afraid to ask what these leaders actually believe—or whether they believe in anything at all.
But the cost is not abstract. When hollow men lead, real people suffer. When they make decisions without principle, entire institutions collapse. When they speak without truth, trust evaporates. And when they fail—because they always do—they leave behind broken systems, cynical followers, and cultures that no longer know what to believe in.
And still they rise into positions of power.
Because we no longer ask the most basic questions of those who seek power. We ask what group they represent, what slogans they use, and what credentials they hold. We ask whether they are diverse, not whether they are honest. Whether they are eloquent, not whether they are brave. Whether they are popular, not whether they are good. And so the hollow man continues to climb, not because he fools everyone, but because so few are willing to call him out for what he really is.
What we must understand is that the hollow man is not just weak. He is dangerous. Because in a moment of crisis, he has no principles to fall back on. In a moment of decision, he has no moral reference point. In a moment of truth, he chooses the lie that will cost him the least. He cannot protect what matters because he does not know what matters. He cannot resist evil because he does not believe in evil—only in risk.
And because he leads without conscience, he empowers others like him. He normalizes fraud, rewards flattery, and punishes integrity. He creates a culture where character is irrelevant and where virtue is seen as quaint, if not dangerous. Over time, people stop aspiring to be good. They aspire to be accepted. And once that becomes the goal, the hollow man has won.
But he wins only if we let him.
We must start asking different questions and demanding answers to them. Not who is successful, but who is trustworthy. Not who speaks well, but who lives well as a good person. Not who has influence, but who has character. And we must be willing to pay the price for honestly answering those questions. Because once we do, the spell breaks. The illusion fades. And the hollow man is revealed—not as a leader, but as a warning of our complacency.