Abstract
Nazi Germany proved one thing: Humans can bring about terrifying evil. If you have any doubt about this fact, visit a Holocaust museum, such as the one in Skokie, Illinois, USA. Ask yourself: Is this Nazi genocide evil? Ask also: What, if anything, has a perfectly good God to do with this unspeakable evil? Theists, among others, have offered seemingly countless answers, and no answer enjoys a consensus. The parade of suggested answers continues to this day, with no end in sight. A problem of evil thus persists, even with a vengeance, at least for many theists.
Some theists go to remarkable extremes to exonerate God regarding evil. For instance, Jean-Miguel Garrigues, in God without the Idea of Evil, proposes: ‘God does not envisage or anticipate evil because it simply is not. Evil is not, and God is the One Who Is. He can only see in us the being that he gives us out of love’ (p. 49, emphases in original). Let's return to the Holocaust museum, a present and an abiding witness to Nazi genocide in World War II. Bracketing any special pleading that ‘evil is not’, we cannot plead anything similar for Nazi genocide. It was real, and we have the clear and presentable evidence. Nazi genocide was actual, and its tragic effects linger until today.
Many observers, including many Nazis, were able to anticipate the Nazi genocide, given various statements and plans deriving from Hitler. If this genocide was evil, Garrigues would have us believe that God did not anticipate it. I do not see how this genocide can avoid being evil, given what we typically mean by ‘evil’. In addition, I fail to see how it would be a divine virtue if God did not anticipate the Holocaust. It would not elevate God's moral character for God to fail to see either the Nazi genocide or its unspeakable evil. Instead, it would seem to be a moral defect in God, involving perhaps indifference and a self-indulgent kind of cognitive ‘purity’ or ‘innocence’. The Holocaust was real, and robust moral goodness calls for recognising it and its terrifying evil.
The view of Garrigues runs afoul of a dominant biblical theme: God identifies human evil and challenges it. Even a cursory review of biblical narratives, from beginning to end, confirms this. The book of Jonah, for instance, makes no sense if God does not ‘envisage or anticipate’ evil. Indeed, the Bible at large makes no sense in that case. Its main storyline is that God is perfectly righteous and aims to redeem unrighteousness in the world, including in humans, by bringing good out of it, in order to vindicate divine righteousness. The opening chapters of Paul's Epistle to the Romans summarise the story, with explicit acknowledgment of God's awareness of and opposition to unrighteousness, and thus evil, in the world. I find no reason to side with Garrigues over the dominant biblical approach to God. His God lacks the moral awareness and leadership humans need in the presence of the Holocaust and other evils.
In The Persistence of Evil, Fintan Lyons surveys the longstanding Christian tradition, from the time of Irenaeus to our day, which associates evil with ‘the devil’ as a malevolent being. The book is long on exposition of the works of others (even in its conclusion) and short on independent assessment of relevant evidence. We look in vain for a broad constructive synthesis in the light of the many expositions of previous works.
Given this world's extensive evil, Lyons proposes that ‘it seems reasonable, even compelling, to predicate the existence of a nameless but real force operating unpredictably in the world’ (p. 306, emphasis in original). He expresses regret that ‘among some theologians the tradition in relation to the existence of the devil has little influence on theological foundations and on the pastoral theology that must take account of the experiences of the faithful’ (p. 307). He cites as an example ‘the practical issue of how to understand the many exorcism practices that exist today’ (p. 308).
The book devotes two expository chapters to exorcism, concluding that ‘where there is belief in the devil's existence, the use of exorcism is vindicated on the basis of pastoral need, and there is success in some cases at least’ (p. 305). He also grants that in the absence of belief in the devil's existence, exorcism may be regarded as a (psychological) therapeutic technique with value. It would have been helpful to defend the claim to ‘success’ in some cases of exorcism, beyond the expositions offered of other works on the topic. This is a complex, partly empirical matter worthy of detailed assessment.
Lyons suggests a ‘synthetic view’ that includes joining endorsement of ‘a nameless but real force operating unpredictably’ in this world's evil with acknowledgment of ‘the named real force, previously simply called the devil’. With this combination, he claims, ‘a fruitful analysis of the persistence of evil may be possible’ (p. 310). This doubly modal talk of what ‘may be possible’ is, of course, very tentative, indeed painfully tentative. We easily can grant what ‘may be possible’ here, but expect more, beyond a doubly modal option.
The book would have benefited from attention to a best available explanation of the relevant phenomena, beyond consideration of what ‘may be possible’. Such attention would move us to considerations of epistemically grounded, reasonable belief. The data are complicated indeed, but inquirers will want more than what ‘may be possible’. They will want to identify the overall direction of our total relevant evidence. In doing so, they will want to discern what it is epistemically reasonable to believe. This discernment must be based on evidence, and evidence can vary among inquirers, but we still want epistemic direction. This task will lead, of course, to details of epistemology, but the effort will be worthwhile, if done with due care and precision. I recommend this effort.