Since 2003, I've regularly taught a large lower-division class called "Evil", focusing primarily on the moral psychology of evil (recent syllabus here). We conclude by discussing the theological "problem of evil" -- the question of whether and how evil and suffering are possible given an omnipotent, omniscient, benevolent God. Over the years I've been increasingly intrigued by a secular version of this question.
I see the secular "problem of evil" as this: Although no individual or collective has anything close to the knowledge or power of God as envisioned in mainstream theological treatments, the world is not wholly beyond our control; so there's at least some possibility that individuals and collectives can work toward making the world morally well ordered in the sense that the good thrive, the evil suffer, justice is done, and people get what they deserve. So, how and to what extent is the world morally well ordered? My aim today is to add structure to this question, rather than answer it.
(1.) We might first ask whether it would in fact be good if the world were morally well-ordered. One theological response to the problem of evil is to argue no. A world in which God ensured perfect moral order would be a world in which people lacked the freedom to make unwise choices, and freedom is so central to the value of human existence that it's overall better that we're free and suffer than that we're unfree but happy.
A secular analogue might be: A morally well-ordered world would, or might, require such severe impingements on our freedom as to not be worth the tradeoff. It might, for example, require an authoritarian state that rewards, punishes, monitors, and controls in a manner that -- even if it could accurately sort the good from the bad -- fundamentally violates essential liberties. Or it might require oppressively high levels of informal social control by peers and high-status individuals, detecting and calling out everyone's moral strengths and weaknesses.
(2.) Drawing from the literature on "immanent justice" -- with literary roots in, for example, Shakespeare and Dostoyevsky -- we might consider plausible social and psychological mechanisms of moral order. In Shakespeare's Macbeth, one foul deed breeds another and another -- partly to follow through on and cover up the first and partly because one grows accustomed to evil -- until the evil is so extreme and pervasive that the revulsion and condemnation of others becomes inevitable. In Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikov torments himself with fear, guilt, and loss of intimacy (since he has a life-altering secret he cannot share with most others in his life), until he unburdens himself with confession.
We can ask to what extent it's true that such social and psychological mechanisms cause the guilty to suffer. Is it actually empirically correct that those who commit moral wrongs end up unhappy as a result of guilt, fear, social isolation, and the condemnation of others? I read Woody Allen's Crimes and Misdemeanors as arguing the contrary, portraying Judah as overall happier and better off as a result of murdering his mistress.
(3.) Drawing from the literature on the goodness or badness of "human nature", we can ask to what extent people are naturally pleased by their own and others' good acts and revolted by their own and others' evil. I find the ancient Chinese philosopher Mengzi especially interesting on this point. Although Mengzi acknowledges that the world isn't perfectly morally ordered ("an intent noble does not forget he may end up in a ditch; a courageous noble does not forget he may lose his head"; 3B1), he generally portrays the morally good person as happy, pleased by their own choices, and admired by others -- and he argues that our inborn natures inevitably tend this direction if we are not exposed to bad environmental pressures.
(4.) We can explore the extent to which moral order is socially and culturally contingent. It is plausible that in toxic regimes (e.g., Stalinist Russia) the moral order is to some extent inverted, the wicked thriving and the good suffering. We can aspire to live in a society where, in general -- not perfectly, of course! -- moral goodness pays off, perhaps through ordinary informal social mechanisms: "What goes around comes around." We can consider what structures tend to ensure, and what structures tend to pervert, moral order.
Then, knowing this -- within the constraints of freedom and given legitimate diversity of moral opinion (and the lack of any prospect for a reliable moralometer) -- we can explore what we as individuals, or as a group, might do to help create a morally better ordered world.
[Dall-E interpretation of a moralometer sorting angels and devils, punishing the devils and rewarding the angels]
I keep coming back to this post. The idea of a morally well-ordered universe is slightly blowing my mind, as I try to figure out what that might be...
I think with a god that exists external to the universe, it's fairly easy to understand how the god can set a moral code, and the beings in the universe can either follow it or not follow it.
But in the secular form of the argument, the relationship between the moral code and the actions of beings in the universe seems to be intrinsically more complicated. For example, if the moral code is consequentialist, then the morally well-ordered world *by definition* imposes not just severe but total impingements on our freedom. We would have no ability to act badly without being punished, because the punishment (to ourselves or others) would be exactly what the badness consists in.
If the morality is deontological instead of consequentialist, then the connection is less direct, I think, but still present, because the moral rules must be emergent features of the universe itself.
In a virtue ethics version of morality, the question of human nature would seem to be begged: the definition of goodness must be drawn from human nature in some way, so the question of whether human nature inevitably tends in this direction must be at least a partial/oblique/qualified affirmative.
That is to say, whereas in the religious version of the argument, you can draw a clean line between the standards that define the moral code and the application of the moral code; in the secular version that line seems to be necessarily blurred.