What does it mean to be evil?

Let us start with quoting from an older reference text, the third edition of the Pantheon of Heroes and Believers, a standard (if outdated) text for the discussion of these issues:

Contrast this with the definition of "good" from the same source:

Now, let us admit that categorization is always a crude tool; rarely is one person entirely one thing or another, and context matters. Killing is, here, described as an evil act, but let us continue reading:

Here the added context is that evil is about killing "the innocent," and that one might make sacrifices to protect others. Could a good person kill someone who is a beligerent in the defense of the innocent? There are pacifists who would argue no, but such pacifists have rarely (if ever) created an entire society that is able to exist according to their principles; the history books show us that most pacifists either meet an end at the hands of someone who does not share their beliefs, or endure by being in essence free riders on the institutional violence of a society that provides them with the luxury to decry the things that keep them safe from the violence inherent in the state of nature. We will simply ignore them here, and acknowledge that most people behave as though violence in the form of defense is not inherently evil. And because of the often cyclical nature of violence, and the idea of preemptory violence, it is not always straightforward to determine whether violence is defensive or offensive in nature.

Now that we have staked out some territory here, let's contrast these definitions with some others. Here, for instance, is the same section in the second edition of the Pantheon of Heroes and Believers (abbreviated as PHB from hereon out):

Clearly this is an outdated point of view; it is commonly accepted now that animals are not neutral in terms of good and evil, but simply unaligned at all. The sort of moral relativism on display here seems incompatible with both cosmology and lived experience; the Nine Hells represent archetypal evil without reference to a societal context, and nobody has a problem with describing the Red Wizards of Thay as evil without considering the unique society of Thay that may recognize different standards.

But there is an insight here that seems to be lost in the later editions: it defines evil not in terms of itself, but in terms of its opposition to goodness (as opposed to neutrality, which is simply the lack of observance of goodness). I think this captures something that most people feel intuitively about evil -- that it can be defined most clearly as good's opposite.

The fifth edition of the PHB, meanwhile, does not offer a defintion of "evil" at all, on its own; it only offers definitions in the context of what someone believes on the question of order over chaos (which for some confusing reason, all editions of the PHB refer to order as "law," giving the impression that this is about obedience to temporal authority and not an abstract ideal, despite it being clear in context that no edition of the PHB means law as such.)

This makes a peculiar point: if we take these two axis as the basis for our system of alignment (and why wouldn't we, the Outer Planes certainly do), then we are left with the question of what neutrality means. To be neutral between order and chaos suggests that one needs some of both. This is a view that I will admit that I would have recoiled from some time ago, but have been persuaded to view more favorably over time, by people who both advocate passionately for chaos, and are good in bed.[^1]

But what does it mean to be neutral between good and evil? There are some, exemplified by the learned sage and wizard Mordenkainen, who would say that this promotes balance in the universe. Does the universe really need balance between people who believe in defending the innocent and people who believe in slaughtering the innocent for funsies? Mordenkainen thinks so, and his mansion is magnificent, so who am I to argue with him?

(That was a trick question, gentle reader; I will argue with anyone.)

One thing that these sources do not go into is the question if evil is about ends or means. It seems in practice that it can be both, but with some ambiguity: someone who pursues evil ends through benign means -- writing essays (such as this!), giving speeches, pursuing legal political power -- is often viewed as being just as evil as someone who, in the pursuit of the "greater good," used evil means to achieve them -- violence, subjugation, and so on. And yet sometimes we find ourselves able to recognize an "anti-hero" or other figure who achieves good ends through means we deplore, and we do not consider them strictly evil. It's a question of point of view, really. Maybe the relativism of that second edition definition has something in it, after all.

So, let us move from the theoretical to the concrete. Let us consider some of the people I have associated with in the past, and ask: are they good, or evil? (For context, you can consult my as-yet unpublished memoir. Or read old issues of the Waterdeep Wazoo with a grain of salt. Or perhaps Volo will tire of travelogues and decide to flatter me with a portrayal in prose.)

Let us start with a simple one. What is one to make of a dwarven cleric who is always there for his friends, who cares for people in all things, and who always has snacks available? The only thing standing between us and labelling him as "good" is that he might read this someday and think I said something nice about him.

Moving on... what to make of a woman whose recreational pasttimes include breaking and entering, who has joined an organization that is absolutely criminal and may venture into outright terrorism, but who carries about her a keen sense of justice and injustice? It seems hard to say, but I do not actually have doubts here; she is without a doubt in my mind a good person. But reaching that conclusion tells me nothing about what the nature of goodness is.

And what of the head terrorist himself? When asked if he was a good person, he indiciated that he didn't think he was. (In that same conversation, so did I, which I promise will come up again.) But also... he wished he could say something other than that. Is it true that one knows the nature of their own heart? Or is it true that someone who has doubts about themselves is more likely to be good than someone who is certain of themselves? And can I trust myself to be objective about the answer here, when I have hopes about what it says, both about him and myself? And I just do not know.

What of someone who has decided that a system that is corrupt cannot be permitted to stand, and will adopt the weapons (figuratively and quite literally) of his enemies to tear down that system, come what may? I think, putting aside the subject of this essay, that there is an immaturity here, the scorned ex-lover lashing out at the object of his desire when it could not be what he needed it to be. But evil? Upon reflection... I think he just might be. (And I do not know what to do about that.)

And what of someone who makes a pact with Asmodeus himself, over a trifle? Who shows a carelessness about the feelings of others? Who seems sweet and kind sometimes, but feckless and angry at others? I don't know. I do not fucking know. There was a point where I was convinced that killing him was the only choice, and a point where I could not bear that choice, and would do anything to have him back. And now at night, I lay awake and wonder if I wasn't right at the first, as hard as it was to bear that burden. If by allowing such a person to be free in the world, alone, if I have not sown the seeds for evils yet to come.

And through it all, on and on and on again, there is a refrain: good and evil are hard to know. It is both an absolute of the universe and situational. It can be in both aims and means. Different editions of the same godsdamned book can give conflicting and contrasting answers. Instead of being a subject where the learned can come to consensus, there is dissention and discord among the most learned -- Manshoon, Mordenkainen, Safahr and Silverhand would all give you different answers, despite all having reached the pinnacle of arcane understanding, with the keen intellects to match.

So who can tell us, what is evil and what is not?

As it turns out? A fucking _garment_.

Sages and mages, scholars and liars, none of them can be definitive about it. A robe of the archmagi, though? White robes will only allow you to attune to them if you are good, gray if you are neutral, black if you are evil. Outerwear prevails where intellect fails us.

And I'm staring at just such a garment right now.

Three more questions.

I can assume that anyone who is reading this (which may never be anyone) agrees that Lolth is evil. But picture being someone who is born into a society where Lolth worship is common. Say whatever you will about Lolth's morals, her divinity is absolutely not in doubt. When confronted with the divine, where the only divine being you know is Lolth, is it evil to accept her teachings? Does it speak to an evil heart? Or does it simply mean that you recognize the power she wields, that awesome might, and you lack the information you would need to reject it? For Lolth, you can substitute Auril in the places she holds sway, perhaps, although the people of Ten Towns know of other deities. They just also know that few of them answer their prayers when the winter is cold and unyielding, and you pray to any god who might listen for a spark of warmth.

It is generally recognized that vampires are evil. But what is the nature of the evil in vampires? Is it the hunger that fills them, the need for the blood of the living? Does that transform them, essentially, into an evil thing? The way that casting Create Or Destroy Water transforms the Weave itself into water? Or is it a choice? And vampires are not transmuted in a moment, but are worn away by a steady dripping of raindrops against a stone edifice? And that one, just one, might resist that, and stand firm against the rain? And if that's possible... how could they endure that?

And finally... is a thing written? Is a thing inevitable? Or do we have choice? If we could prove, conclusively, whether or not we were evil... would that be that? Or would it change us? Would finding out that we are not evil be a thing that could stop us from continuing to perservere, to fight against those temptations? And in so doing, lure us into the evil we thought we had avoided. Correspondingly, would finding out that we are, in fact, evil allow us to stop fighting not to be? To freeze a moment's weakness into a lifetime's wickedness?

Is it better or worse to know?

I'm staring at such a garment right now. It could tell me. Gods, it could tell me.

And I'm so afraid of knowing. But I do not know how long I have it in me to endure a question unanswered, when the answer sits before me.

[^1] Hi Elly.