Evil in the Name of Good
When we witness wars, violence, cruelty, and the suffering of innocent people, a question arises: why does a person who is capable of distinguishing good from evil still consciously choose to do evil? Yet there is an important contradiction here: most people who commit evil do not consider themselves its supporters. On the contrary, they are often convinced that they are the ones defending what is good.
A person rarely begins with the thought that they want to commit an injustice. More often, they convince themselves that they are protecting their family, their people, their faith, their security, or their own dignity. Those who oppose them gradually cease to be perceived as human beings with their own fears, convictions, and interests. Instead, they become the embodiment of a threat. And then a dangerous logic emerges: if an opponent represents evil, fighting that opponent can justify almost any means. In this way, a person may cross a moral boundary while sincerely continuing to regard themselves as righteous.
In Jewish tradition, there is a concept known as yetzer hara — the evil inclination. Its influence does not necessarily manifest itself as an open desire to cause harm. Sometimes it appears in a person’s ability to justify their own actions, replacing a moral question with one of personal benefit, necessity, or the nobility of their purpose. This is why the Torah requires us not only to pursue justice but also to examine the means by which we seek to achieve it. Even a genuine threat does not make every action permissible. At the same time, it is important to distinguish necessary self-defense, the tragic consequences of war, and the deliberate harming of innocent people: moral responsibility does not disappear simply because someone declares their cause to be just.
Dehumanization is particularly dangerous. When an entire group comes to be viewed exclusively as enemies, traitors, or embodiments of evil, the need to distinguish individual responsibility from collective identity begins to disappear. The suffering of others becomes less significant, while one’s own cruelty appears increasingly justified. This mechanism operates not only on the scale of nations. It also appears in ordinary human relationships, when resentment develops into the conviction that another person deserves any humiliation inflicted in return.
Perhaps one of the most difficult moral challenges is not distinguishing obvious good from obvious evil, but recognizing the evil we have already learned to justify through our own good intentions. The Torah calls upon a person to take responsibility not only for the goal they pursue but also for the kind of person they become on the way toward it. After all, being convinced of one’s own righteousness is not enough. We must preserve the ability to recognize the humanity even of an opponent, to distinguish defense from revenge, and justice from cruelty.
True moral maturity begins when a person is able to ask not only, “What am I fighting for?” but also, “What am I allowing myself to do in the name of that fight?”
