My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust? …Of course I could have given up my idea of justice by saying it was nothing but a private idea of my own. But if I did that, then my argument against God collapsed too—for the argument depended on saying that the world was really unjust, not simply that it did not happen to please my private fancies.
— C. S. Lewis,
When we are angry at evil, we are acknowledging that life has purpose. We are recognizing that there is a difference between good and bad. We are affirming that bad should be punished. But what does that mean for my bad actions? And from where did my sense of justice come in the first place? If life is the result of an accident, how can life have a purpose? And if life has no purpose, why am I angry at what I think is unfair?
My sense of oughtness is an indication that I believe in a standard of life. But what standard, an arbitrary one set by changing cultures driven by natural selection or a transcendent one that never changes even though societies might? Mankind’s sense of justice can point them to the good Judge.
— Michael C Sherrard
Some of the most civilized and highly organized cultures,
like Carthage at its wealthiest, had human sacrifice at its
worst. Culture, like science, is no protection against demons.
— G. K. Chesterton
John Milton was one of the foremost poetic geniuses of the English language—Milton and Shakespeare. What Milton was trying to understand is—what is the nature of evil? And his representation, gathered up in dream-like theories of evil that had been collected around all of Western Civilization for thousands of years, and his hypothesis was this: evil is the force that believes that its knowledge is complete and that it can do without the transcendent, and as soon as it makes that claim, it instantly exists in a place that’s indistinguishable from hell.
And it could get out merely by admitting its error—and it will never do that.
– Jordan Peterson
A history lesson for political radicals