Evil doesn’t exist btw
I like so fully mean this btw. “Evil” is just a way to placate ourselves and put imaginary distance between ourselves and our loved ones, and the ability to do harm
I am just as capable of harm as any other human. I am just as capable of committing rape as the people who have raped me. I am just as capable of abuse as those who have abused me. And so are you.
Those who have harmed me are just as human as I am. The harm I have experienced is the result of socio-material conditions, not some ontological bad-ness.
Evil is a convenient lie, but also one that is devoid of any hope. It’s convenient because it ‘others.’
If I am incapable of harming, I am released from the responsibility to avoid doing harm because I am incapable of harming, and because I’m incapable of harming, I am released from the responsibility of avoiding doing harm, ad infinitum. Any harm that i do perpetuate then becomes excusable and metaphysically segregated from the forms of harm we have deemed to be evil, all in the service of helping me sleep soundly. It’s a pacifier.
But with that convenient excuse comes existential anguish, and with that anguish comes complacency. If the ills of our world are caused by some fundamental, immutable force, well… What can be done? Nothing. Best just wait for God to get rid of it. Or if you don’t believe in God, best to just keep your nose down and look out for thee and thine till youre dirt. A belief in evil is a belief that our human lives are futile.
The reality is that we live in a purely physical universe. Metaphysical concepts (like evil) are a reaction to and conceptualization of the material world, not the other way around. The things we ascribe to be stemming from evil are, in reality, materially rooted, and thus able to be altered through material means–means that humanity has domain over. In this way, a lack of belief in evil is not only infinitely more hopeful than a belief in it, but infinitely more pragmatic as well.
The Patrician steepled his hands and looked at Vimes over the top of them. “Let me give you some advice, Captain,” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“It may help you make some sense of the world.”
“Sir.”
“I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people,” said the man. “You’re wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.”
He waved his thin hand toward the city and walked over to the window. “A great rolling sea of evil,” he said, almost proprietorially. “Shallower in some places, of course, but deeper, oh, so much deeper in others. But people like you put together little rafts of rules and vaguely good intentions and say, this is the opposite, this will triumph in the end. Amazing!” He slapped Vimes good-naturedly on the back.
“Down there,” he said, “are people who will follow any dragon, worship any god, ignore any iniquity. All out of a kind of humdrum, everyday badness. Not the really high, creative loathesomeness of the great sinners, but a sort of mass-produced darkness of the soul. Sin, you might say, without a trace of originality. They accept evil not because they say yes, but because they don’t say no. I’m sorry if this offends you,” he added, patting the captain’s shoulder, “but you fellows really need us.”
“Yes, sir?” said Vimes quietly.
“Oh, yes. We’re the only ones who know how to make things work. You see, the only thing the good people are good at is overthrowing the bad people. And you’re good at that, I’ll grant you. But the trouble is that it’s the only thing you’re good at. One day it’s the ringing of the bells and the casting down of the evil tyrant, and the next it’s everyone sitting around complaining that ever since the tyrant was overthrown no one’s been taking out the trash. Because the bad people know how to plan. It’s part of the specification, you might say. Every evil tyrant has a plan to rule the world. The good people don’t seem to have the knack.”
“Maybe. But you’re wrong about the rest!” said Vimes. “It’s just because people are afraid, and alone—” He paused. It sounded pretty hollow, even to him. He shrugged. “They’re just people,” he said. “They’re just doing what people do. Sir.”
Lord Vetinari gave him a friendly smile. “Of course, of course,” he said. “You have to believe that, I appreciate. Otherwise you’d go quite mad. Otherwise you’d think you’re standing on a feather-thin bridge over the vaults of Hell. Otherwise existence would be a dark agony and the only hope would be that there is no life after death. I quite understand.”