“Evil Eye” through the Lens of Confirmation Bias

Almost 12 years ago, I ran into my friend’s family in a supermarket. My friend’s younger sister who was a baby when I last saw her had become a tall, confident girl. My first comment to her was, “You became so tall!” and before she could respond, her grandmother said, “Ayyo, kannu vekkalle, eni avalu pokkam vekkulla” which translates to, “Oh no, don’t cast the evil eye. She might stop growing now.” This was not the first time that someone has responded to the compliments I give them with suspicion and fear. The grandmother knew that I do not possess the superpower to stunt someone’s growth, yet she had the most serious expression when she uttered those words. Her fear was rooted in something deeper than logic. It is something that most people refer to as ‘Evil Eye.’

The earliest known evidence of belief in the evil eye dates back to ancient Greece and Rome and the belief became widespread on every continent. Prophet Muhammad emphasised the serious dangers of the evil eye and instructed that taking a bath is essential to neutralise its effects. Hindus believed that even animals, like snakes, can cast the evil eye, but women were considered the primary sources. In South India, women painted their eyelids black to protect themselves from the evil eye and to avoid casting it on others. In Europe, the primary source of the evil eye was attributed to the witches and those with blue eyes were seen as mighty possessors of the evil eye gaze. In Italy, the unibrow was recognized as a mark of someone who casts an evil eye.

Even today, across cultures, the idea of evil eye or ‘nazar’ is both feared and deeply embedded in the daily life. From black dots behind ears, lemon chilli-charms on vehicles, keeping mirrors in the entrances, burning incense and breaking coconuts, people take visible steps to ward off the gaze believed to cause harm. And if you think that Gen Z does not engage in such practices, notice how the nazar amulets and evil eyes emoji “🧿” in bios and posts to repel online envy are also becoming increasingly common.

Students who spend nights buried in textbooks often claim they did not prepare for the exam, while those who write perfect answers assert that the exam was too difficult. Compliments are quickly followed by deflections, disclaimers, or a cliche “touch wood,” “nazar na lage,” or “kannu vekkalle.” As if to say: “Yes, we’re proud, but let’s not be too loud about it.” As if goodness must be hidden to be safe. As if the world is always watching and envy is always waiting. But is nazar real, or is it a mental pattern our brains cling to in an unpredictable world?

Imagine this scenario: you ran into your friend in a shopping mall. Your friend saw your baby and started to shower compliments on your child’s beauty, particularly admiring those adorable chubby cheeks. However, the very next day your child falls severely ill, loses weight and the chubby cheeks disappear. If you believe that evil eye can cause misfortune or illness, your brain will automatically connect the innocent compliment of your friend and the unexpected illness of your child. If you attribute your baby’s illness to your friend’s envious gaze,you are turning a blind eye to some obvious facts:

• There were likely many sick individuals in the mall
• Most viruses are airborne.
• Your baby was exposed to the same air as those contagious people.

Psychologically, the concept of nazar often survives and thrives because of confirmation bias, which is our tendency to notice and remember events that support our existing beliefs while ignoring or forgetting those that don’t. In the example discussed earlier, if a person’s unintentional tendency is to link the child’s illness to evil eye, that incident becomes “the proof” and the belief will be reinforced. But what about the many times people gave compliments and nothing bad followed? Those instances are often forgotten. Or they are quietly dismissed because they don’t align with the evil-eye narrative. This is confirmation bias in action. The mind builds a case using the evidence it wants to see.It doesn’t do it maliciously, it’s just wired to protect all our existing beliefs. Why? Because our deep-rooted beliefs, especially the ones passed down with emotion offer a kind of safety. As Nadia Hashimi wrote, “[character’s name]having heard the story a few dozen times growing up, had accepted it as truth.” Questioning the validity of such “truths” can feel like a threat to one’s identity or stability built around long-held beliefs.

Eye-evil also gives meaning to our misfortunes. Getting laid off from a job. Failing an important exam due to illness on the test day. Being in a car accident caused by another driver’s mistake. Unexpected medical bills that drain savings. These are moments that leave people overwhelmed. It is generally believed that “everything happens for a reason,” but this vague statement does not answer the question “Why did this happen to me?” and human beings have a tendency to find out the underlying “reasons” for everything (including explanations to the challenges we encounter). Many find it extremely difficult to accept that illness, accidents, or setbacks are purely random. For such people, nazar offers a story, it locates the blame for the unfortunate incident on someone’s gaze or jealousy. Knowing “why” something happened, even through the lens of superstition, can be strangely comforting and provides a sense of control.

Evil eye is a convenient explanation when the reality is unacceptable. In the novel ‘The Stationery Shop of Tehran,’ by Marjan Kamli, (spoiler alert ahead) Roya and Bahman who were deeply in love and determined to get married despite social and political obstacles are forcefully separated through a manipulated misunderstanding orchestrated by Bahman’s mother. She intercepts their letters and writes fake letters with fabricated messages that cause them to miss their meeting to get secretly married and even believe that each has chosen to end the relationship. Years later, Bahman realises that it was his mother who was responsible for their unfortunate separation. Yet, in his letter to Roya, Bahman writes, “Remember how much you used to worry that we would be jinxed by the evil eye? I scoffed at it all being just superstition back then. But I look at the life I have lived without you, and who knows? Maybe there is something to our culture’s obsession with the evil eye. Look at what ended up happening with my mother.” Rather than fully confronting his mother’s manipulation, Bahman frames their tragedy a result of the evil eye or cultural curse. Evil eye softens the unbearable truth that his own mother’s cruelty destroyed a lifetime of joy with Roya that he yearned for. In doing so, he shifts the blame from his mother to random people of his past whose jealous gazes he believes brought suffering upon them.

Even though a constant shower of compliments cannot bring you bad luck, I have often felt that it can make you lazy or overconfident. When people keep praising your beauty, talent, hard work, or results, you might start thinking you’re already doing great. This mindset can kill the hunger to improve. Eventually, things may start to go wrong —motivation fades, performance drops, and opportunities are missed. Laziness leads to incompetence. Rather than acknowledging their own internal stagnation, some individuals might be tempted to search for blame elsewhere. In such situations, the evil eye can become a scapegoat.

Why is it important that we stop considering evil eye as a harmless superstition? The novel, ‘A House Without Windows,’ by Nadia Hashimi shows how society treated a girl named Gulnaz who happened to have green eyes, an unusual physical trait in her community. “And when they caught a glimpse of her green eyes, she could see them hesitate to take their next breath, as if she might have cursed the very air around them. Even as a young girl, her aunts and cousins had thrown accusing looks her way when things went wrong, as if it were her fault they’d oversalted the stew or tripped on a stone in the courtyard.” These lines highlight the extent to which irrational beliefs displaced reason and compassion. It reveals how superstition enables scapegoating. Instead of acknowledging chance or personal responsibility, the community assigns fault to a vulnerable child. It is more convenient to assume that “someone must have jinxed me” than to acknowledge our lack of continued effort, complacency or overconfidence. After all, isn’t it always easy to blame someone else rather than yourself?

 Now, there’s a line from the novel ‘Evil Eye’ by Etaf Rum that got me thinking about the underlying reason why this concept was popularised. “For as long as you could remember, your mother, my teta, taught you to tread carefully through life. Teta said, in Arabic, “Bad luck lurks everywhere.” What if the evil eye beliefs were less about mystical harm and more about shaping behaviour of people? First, being aware that others might envy or jinx you can make you more careful with what you share and how you behave. You will weigh your words before speaking, choose your audience wisely and avoid giving others a reason to wish you ill. Second, not flaunting success fearing nazar keeps people grounded and prevents arrogance. More importantly, constantly checking how you present yourself to the worldenhances self-awareness. Maybe our ancestors, using a superstition, shaped a community where individuals monitored themselves before others had to.

Ultimately, the evil eye is a story that people tell themselves when reality becomes uncomfortable and self-reflection feels too heavy. A part of growing is recognising when our inherited fears shape our perceptions more than reality does. The evil eye might offer some comfort in this chaotic world. But, growth begins when we stop outsourcing blame to others and start owning our actions, even when it’s uncomfortable.We must trust what we’ve actually seen, not just what we’ve been told.

We don’t need to fear every compliment or second-guess every joy. Sometimes, good things just happen. And they’re allowed to last. Bad things happen too. But not everything that goes wrong is a curse.