I. INTRODUCTION 

We established in “’Being’ a Law Student and the Freedom of Choice” that human reality is inherently and radically free, meaning that freedom is an unavoidable aspect of our existence. In other words, we have no choice but to be free. Because freedom emerges from the very structure of human reality, we are not simply what we are; rather, we must actively become what we are. This process is continuous, unfolding in every moment. The act of being, and simultaneously negating being, occurs instantaneously and perpetually. 

Unlike determinism, which asserts that every action results from a preceding cause, human motivation is not dictated by past events but by future possibilities and the desire to bring oneself into being. However, the anguish that accompanies this radical freedom often leads us to negate it. Faced with the burden of being able to become our greatest potential or our worst failure, we attempt to escape this responsibility by resigning ourselves to the in-itself, ignoring choice and possibility.

In Being and Nothingness (1943), Jean-Paul Sartre defines bad faith as follows:

“We should choose and examine a specific attitude, essential to human being, and in which, at the same time, consciousness, instead of directing its negation outward, turns it against itself. It has seemed to us that attitude must be bad faith.”

Here, Sartre describes how consciousness, rather than confronting its freedom, deceives itself by denying the very possibilities that define it. This self-deception allows individuals to retreat from the anguish of freedom into a false sense of necessity and determinism, effectively denying their own role in shaping their existence.

In Being and Nothingness, Sartre attempts to illustrate Bad Faith through Freud’s psychoanalytic approach, but he ultimately argues that Freud’s model fails to adequately explain the structure and function of the phenomenon. Unlike Freud, who attributes self-deception to unconscious mechanisms, Sartre insists that bad faith is a conscious choice, a deliberate refusal to acknowledge one’s own freedom. Thus, bad faith is not merely a psychological defense but an existential mechanism to evade anguish, “the goal of bad faith…is to put oneself out of reach; it is an act of flight.”

II. PSYCHOANALYTIC APPROACH TO BAD FAITH

Sartre challenges the notion that human behavior is driven solely by unconscious forces beyond conscious awareness. Instead, he presents a view of human reality that integrates both freedom and personal responsibility. In the section “Bad Faith and Lies,” Sartre critiques Freud’s psychoanalytic model, particularly the idea that repression operates unconsciously. He argues that repression is, in fact, a deliberate and rational process, as it necessitates an awareness of both the suppressed desire and the actions taken to fulfill it.

Unlike Freud’s theory, which posits a division between the conscious and unconscious, Sartre asserts that such a censor must first recognize an impulse before it can be suppressed. This means that self-deception is not an involuntary or unconscious occurrence but rather a conscious and intentional act, one that involves a double awareness of both the truth and the effort to obscure it. Sartre maintains that suppression can be logically understood and communicated through conscious thought, rather than being dictated by irrational drives.

However, this position leads to a paradox, genuine self-deception requires that one simultaneously conceal and acknowledge the truth from oneself. Sartre critiques Freud’s theory of consciousness for failing to resolve this contradiction, arguing that bad faith is not an unconscious repression but an active choice to deny one’s own freedom. Thus, rather than being victims of hidden psychological forces, individuals engage in bad faith as a means of evading responsibility for their own existence.

“But it is not sufficient that it discern the condemned drives; it must also apprehend them as to be repressed, which implies in it at the very least an awareness of its activity. In a word, how could the censor discern the impulses needing to be repressed without being conscious of discerning them? How can we conceive of a knowledge which is ignorant of itself? To know is to know that one knows, said Alain. Let us say rather: All-knowing is consciousness of knowing.” 

Here, suppression is subject to logical comprehension and communication from the conscious rather than being motivated by irrational impulses. The problem is that genuine self-deception necessitates keeping the lie a secret from oneself. Sartre contends that Freud’s theory of the conscious is unable to address this paradox of self-deception, which is inherent in the behavior of bad faith. The individual engaging in self-deception holds both roles simultaneously, the deceiver and the deceived. This means that, in order to effectively deceive oneself, one must have a precise understanding of the truth while simultaneously concealing it. This process does not occur in two different moments; it occurs “in the unitary structure of a single project.” A single moment, unrealized by the individual. Furthermore, given the complete “translucency” of consciousness, “that which affects itself with bad faith must be conscious (of) its bad faith.” Otherwise, we should have a consciousness ignorant of itself, which is impossible in the eyes of Sartre. Therefore, we shall now move away from the dualistic realm of the psychoanalytical and into the universe of the existential, a place where existence precedes essence. A place where choice remains completely free.

“Psychoanalysis has not gained anything for us since in order to overcome bad faith, it has established between the unconscious and consciousness an autonomous consciousness in bad faith… The very essence of the reflexive idea of hiding something oneself implies the unity of one and the same psychic mechanism…”

Moving forward with this discussion, “…we are no longer on the ground of psychoanalysis,” therefore, we are no longer subject to the control of unknown drives. There is no hidden entity within us casting a veil that prevents self-reflection in each instantaneous moment. So now, the excuse to change dissipates. You are now capable of critical introspection. Replaying events, seeing where you went wrong, and imagining a reality that includes a different choice and what could have been. Learn from each moment of this and go forward believing in possibility. 

III. THE LAW STUDENT

Bad Faith entails “the unity of a single consciousness.” The one who lies and the one to whom the lie is told are one and the same under these circumstances. Here, your consciousness “affects itself” with bad faith. Hence, it must have both an intention and a project of bad faith. Moreover, given the complete “translucency” of consciousness, “that which affects itself with bad faith must be conscious (of) its bad faith.” Otherwise, we should have a consciousness ignorant of itself, which, for Sartre, is illogical. Accordingly, our flight from anguish and the anxiety of freedom of choice, for instance, in order not to know it, is in Bad Faith because we cannot avoid knowing what we are fleeing.

The following examples illustrate how bad faith operates in the experiences of law students, from rationalizing poor grades to rewriting personal narratives after failure:

Abraham, a first-year law student, attributes his mediocre grades solely to the harsh grading curve, insisting that they do not truly reflect his abilities. He tells himself he understands the material and dismisses his performance as a product of external factors. Yet, deep down, he knows he could have put in more effort, sought extra help, or studied more effectively. His bad faith lies in his self-deception—he both knows and refuses to acknowledge his own role in his academic struggles.

Mary, a law student competing in a mock trial, performs poorly during oral arguments. Rather than admitting she was underprepared, she convinces herself that the judges were biased against her. However, she simultaneously knows that she did not study the material as thoroughly as she could have. By externalizing blame while suppressing her own responsibility, she engages in bad faith, choosing to obscure the truth she still retains at some level.

Paul, after failing to secure a summer associate position, reassures himself that he never really wanted to work in big law anyway. Yet, prior to rejection, he pursued these firms with enthusiasm. Rather than confront the reality that his interview skills or grades may not have been competitive, he rewrites his own narrative to protect his self-image. Sartre would argue that Paul exists in bad faith because he simultaneously acknowledges and denies the truth, crafting an illusion that conceals his own agency in shaping his reality.

These students may go through life believing these excuses, and while freedom allows this choice, they’re missing out on the absurdity of life. The possibility that they could’ve studied just a bit longer, put in that extra effort, or faced the discomfort of self-reflection. Instead of acknowledging their choices, they cling to the comfort of a lie, essentially killing possibility. However, despite possibility being put to death in the previous moment, it still absurdly remains alive, as one has the ability to transcend facticity and be for-itself in every instantaneous and approaching moment. With being for-itself, you are now capable of critical introspection. Replaying events, seeing where you went wrong, and imagining a reality that includes a different choice and what could have been. From this, the law student can learn from each moment and go forward absurdly believing that their dream is still possible. 

IV. SINCERITY & GOOD FAITH

The natural response and rejection to bad faith, one would think, is sincerity or good faith. However, sincerity is an ideal that claims “is necessary that a man be for himself only what is.” This requires each individual to act in accordance with who they “really” are. However, if at our core, we are nothing, then how could we sincerely be anything? Sincerity masks itself as the opposite of bad faith, when truly it is bad faith as well.

Sartre defines sincerity as “precisely the definition of the in-itself.” As discussed in “‘Being’ a Law Student & the Freedom of Choice,” the in-itself can only be what it is, lacking the ability to negate and thus devoid of the radical freedom that the for-itself possesses. Sartre states, “If man is what he is, bad faith is forever impossible, and candour ceases to be his ideal and becomes instead his being.” However, human consciousness is not merely what it is; it is an awareness of itself, an ongoing recognition of its own existence, an existence that, at its core, holds nothingness.

We often find that the best actors play their roles most sincerely. Do we not all, in some sense, engage in this act of performance as well? The Other, through social norms and peer pressure, informs us of how to act in certain situations, and we respond to these cues by behaving in ways that appease the Other. We seek the same attention, cheers, and even tears that audiences give their favorite actors. Therefore, we come to understand that “actual sincerity presents itself as a demand and consequently is not a state.”

With this understanding, we are forced to recognize sincerity as an impossible ideal for consciousness. If sincerity were truly attainable, it would imply that consciousness, a fluid, ever, changing existence, could solidify into an in-itself, a fixed and non-possibilizing thing. But consciousness does not work that way; it is always surpassing itself, always reaching beyond what it was in the previous moment, “What can be the significance of the ideal of sincerity except as a task impossible to achieve, of which the very meaning is in contradiction with the structure of my consciousness.” This is an irreconcilable contradiction with what consciousness is because “as soon as we posit ourselves as a certain being…then by that very positing we surpass this being – and that not toward another being but toward emptiness, toward nothing.”

What Sartre means here is that the act alone of identifying ourselves as a certain being is a demonstration that we aren’t that being because if we really were that being, we wouldn’t need to, in fact, we couldn’t posit ourselves as it; we would just be it. For example, I can not deem myself to be an impatient quick-tempered man, as the negation of this exists in the moments where I am not. I have the choice to be kind, to be different, even in the slightest way.  

The Impatient Man & Champion of Sincerity

Imagine a man who struggles with his quick temper and the guilt it brings him. Although he acknowledges his past outbursts and admits to every instance in which he has lost his patience, he refuses to define himself as an inherently impatient or quick-tempered person. For him, each incident of frustration was always somehow atypical, all in the past, or the result of external pressures, anything but “the manifestations of a deeply rooted tendency.” At the same time, his friend, a champion of sincerity, insists that he must recognize and accept his nature, urging him to stop being dishonest with himself. A question is proposed from this situation: who is in bad faith here, the impatient man or the champion of sincerity?

In one sense, the impatient man is justified in resisting being labeled as a thing. He is not an impatient person in the mode of being one, that is, as a chair is a chair, nor do his past actions determine him; rather, he is separated from them by a nothingness. However, in another sense, he is mistaken. What he needs to add to his initial denial of being an ‘impatient-thing’ is this qualification: “To the extent that a pattern of conduct is defined as the conduct of a quick-tempered person and to the extent that I have adopted this conduct, I am a quick-tempered person.” But he doesn’t. In effect, he is playing on the word being. When he says he is not impatient, he is interpreting not-being as not-being-in-itself, but then he uses this interpretation in the context of not-being-the-meaning-of-his-conduct. The impatient man is taking his facticity for his transcendence and is therefore, in bad faith.

What about the champion of sincerity, a form of the Other? He demands that the impatient man admit to his impatience by telling him that he ought to be in good faith. Sincerity requires him to be honest with himself. So, the champion of sincerity is asking his friend to “be what he is in order no longer to be what he is.” If he constitutes himself as an ‘impatient-thing,’ he will no longer be that thing because he will have transcended it. The making of someone into an in-itself is reassuring to us because it “removes a disturbing freedom from a trait and which aims at henceforth constituting all the acts of the Other as consequences following strictly from his essence.” However, they do not, because existence precedes essence. Therefore, the champion of sincerity, too, is in bad faith.

V. MOVEMENT AWAY FROM BAD FAITH

So, what is the answer to bad faith if not sincerity or good faith? Authenticity. This is the negation of bad faith. Living with an introspective, intentional, willful, and chosen manner of being is what it means to be authentic. One must consider the world, society, time, and body into which they were thrust, and determine one’s identity via reflection. To perform this movement away from bad faith and into authenticity, one must be for-itself. This requires looking at the society around them and questioning which of its beliefs, rules, and expectations truly align with the person they want to become. Not everything will align. Institutions like schools, religious organizations, communities, influential figures, parents, and the media all attempt to shape your identity, offering rewards for conformity and consequences for resistance. However, this is the Other, and you must be hesitant with trusting it. Nevertheless, being for-itself does not stop there. Once you establish a sense of self, the desire to be for-others should naturally follow. Be kind, be patient, and be unselfish when dealing with the Other, or don’t. It’s your choice either way. 

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Staniel Brutis is a second-year student at BC Law. Contact him at brutis@bc.edu.